Summer boys' club

Last night Naveen held his toothbrush across his upper lip and said, “Look at my ‘stache Mommy!” Earlier when he was eating a saltine cracker with butter; he rubbed a little above his top lip and announced then too that he had a ‘stache.

And on Thursday when they picked me up from work, Deaglan said from the backseat, “Mommy, we went to the grocery store today and we saw Shannon and guess what! I had no shorts on, just my underwear.”

Shaune’s been home with the kids for the summer break.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so little in control.

If you know me at all, you know I have just the slightest hint of a need to be in complete control. When I went to the hospital to give birth to Naveen, I wrote my mother-in-law a 16 page manifesto on how to take care of Deaglan. I printed each instruction and each routine by hand. I may have sketched a few things out for good measure too. Before heading to the hospital, I walked her through what I’d written.

My mother-in-law. The retired nurse who raised four kids.

Only Naveen was home with Shaune the first week of summer. We pulled him out of daycare when we were sure Shaune would get no more supply teaching calls. By the end of the second day when I could restrain myself no longer, I asked in my most casual, nonchalant voice, “So what are you feeding him for lunch and snacks?”

My husband. The man who on a regular basis does all of our cooking.  

I got reassurances from Deaglan later Thursday evening that he hadn’t really gone to the grocery store without shorts. He told me he had been playing a trick on me. I could tell from the way he told me that it was the truth. I don’t mind telling you that it unnerved me a little that my five year old already knew my triggers.

And I can’t be a hundred per cent certain but I think I saw Shaune breathe a huge sigh of relief when he heard our son admit he was joking. I don’t think he could swear under oath that he knew for certain whether or not Deaglan was wearing pants at the grocery store that day.

I’m not sure after all these years that those kinds of details are important to him.

Here’s what I do know. The kids are loving being home with him. Every day I come home to stories of what they did together. Making pizza. Going to the carwash. Walking in the woods.  Planning out Halloween costumes.

Most of this in mismatched clothes. All of it while laughing and wrestling.

A boys' club where toots and burps are always cause for celebration.

 When I asked Deaglan to hold this sign up on the last day of school, he was irritated and uncooperative.

 I explained why I wanted to document this last special day and he basically told me the five year old version of "I don't give a Rat's A** what you want it for."

 By the time I got these pictures, I was saying things like, "I swear, if you don't give me a smile, there will be no X this weekend." I can't remember what leverage I was using but it didn't get me much.

Some day he's going to thank me for these pictures. Right?