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Hill Country Living

Boys Make The ‘Best’ Of Rainy Days With Mom

Hey, guess what. It’s raining. Wow. Another day of rain. Just when I thought,”Hey, it has rained for five days and I’ve been stuck in this house with my nine and six year old boys the entire time and I surely could use just one more day of rain because, man, this is just too much fun!” God delivers. He truly works in mysterious ways. And by mysterious I mean torturous.

I remember in high school we had to read Dante’s Inferno. In it there were nine levels of hell. The levels ranged from just hanging out with sinners (not so bad…that’s just me on any given Wednesday afternoon) to being trapped in ice with Satan (bad.) I vaguely remember there was one level about midway down that involved you getting stung eternally by a bunch of fire ants or bees or something. I would say that the torture of being stuck in a house with two elementary school age brothers for days and days and days on end is right above the bee level. 

If they said “Mama” once over this past rainy week, they have said “Mama” eight billion times. I try to explain to them that all they have to do is start talking and I will assume they are addressing me, considering I am only three feet away, we are making direct eye contact, and I am the only other person in the room. It’s called using logic, considering context, and paying attention to social cues. But when all you want is to cry and rant to me that your brother “stole” the last popsicle (while you are currently holding a popsicle) then all that flies out the window, I guess.

But as hard as it is, all mothers know there are more good moments than bad. Or at least even….right?! I mean, for every time you take a remote control to the eye while breaking up your boys’ fight-to-the-death over who’s turn it is to pick the TV show, there is a moment that is equal and opposite. I think this is a rule of physics that also applies to parenting. It keeps the love alive. 

Like how after my boys got in a massive public brawl in the front yard that ended in crying, a car slowing down to rubberneck, a dog yelping in pain, and my window screen now covered in stuck mud balls, they sat down and made cut-out snow flakes together at the kitchen table. That was a sweet moment. 

And then a second later when the youngest cut his finger with the scissors because he was using my very nice off-limits quilting scissors instead of his designated plastic Fred’s scissors, the oldest one found him a band-aid and doctored his little brother up. So sweet. Granted he purposefully gave him an Elsa bandaid instead of one of the coveted Bigfoot bandaids and that caused a whole other deal but anyway, I digress.  

The point is, while I stood at the stove watching my children cut out construction paper snowflakes to put on our little Christmas tree, I poured another glass of wine for my supper and thought how lucky I am. Because ever since the new liquor store opened up the quality of wine has really improved in Water Valley.

And I’m also lucky to have my boys who I love beyond measure and who are my sunshines. And I’m lucky to have a cold, rainy week trapped with those two because I’m always warm inside with them around. And I’m lucky to still have my TV. Because I almost threw it out the backdoor and burned it.

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