I Believe I Can Fly

Summer just started and from the looks of things I'm gonna need to get a Costco-sized box of Band-aids...

Seriously kid, that does NOT look very aerodynamic.  But I'm glad you've strapped a safety flag on--you can never be too safe when you're got a sliver-ridden hunk of plywood strapped to your back!

Summer just started...I'm now thinking that not enrolling the kid in a slew of summer camps was a grievous error.

A Little Merit Badge Q & A

After a few death defying days of Spring Break Shenanigans,
I decided to rein Connor and his buddy Sev back in from their dare-devil stuntfest by forcing them to work on some long neglected, half-finished Merit Badges.  Having to put pencil to paper was definitely not what these boys had in mind for any part of their school holiday, but I insisted because I was getting desperate for a break from their crazed antics and spare their lives with a much needed injury-free day. 

I should have enticed them inside with video games, but I did not. 
I should have persuaded them inside with food, but I did not. 
My plan for a low key afternoon was much more productive.  And this was a very bad idea.

Let's just say boys do not like to do anything that resembles school work if they're on holiday.  And they will definitely let you know...

Check out Connor's brief but direct answer on his Family Life Merit Badge Worksheet...

Ah, Family Life!  You try to save a kid's life and this is what you get!

Spring Break-Less

A miracle occurred around our house over Spring Break, the miracle being that no one ended up in the ER.  

Just a few hours into day #1, we soon realized that our decision to stay home and take it easy over Spring Break may not have been a wise move.  We quickly discovered this is a dangerous prospect because kids who stay home tend to get bored, and more particularly, the kids around our house like to stave off boredom by entagling themselves in bizarre and dangerous high adventure antics.  Within the first six hours of their vacation they tried their hand at two
never-before-seen sports...

Tarp Jumping off the tool shed:
I think Connor and Severin have been watching base jumping or something on some crazy x-games channel and wanted to give it a try.  Thank goodness they didn't try it off the barn roof and opted for the tool shed instead.  I thought for sure someone was gonna break their arm.  Luckily I don't think the boys ever summoned the courage to actually jump.  Whew!

And Pallet Racing:
Apparently skateboarding around the driveway isn't compelling enough.  The boys found an old pallet and attached a couple of skateboards underneath and then surfed it down the driveway.

 

The boys quickly learned that their erroneous assumption that a croquet stick would be a great makeshift rudder/brake was, quite frankly, beyond inadequate.  As was my decision to stand downhill in a small buffer zone off to the side for a little photo-op of their perilous pallet adventure.  

This was taken just as I realized there was no buffer zone and I had to leap into the gravel to spare my life:

Despite the fact that the croquet stick was useless both for steering and for braking, the cozy barbed-wire fence proved an excellent and fail-proof stop gap.

(uh, look how huge my shadow is! Holy Cow!

it appears as though I could use a little P90x.)

They made several runs until Connor's friend Severin suffered a classic pallet surfing injury.  The poor kid got his hand stuck in the slats which makes it quite difficult to exit the moving vehicle should it suddenly lurch to a stop upon impact with gravel.  After rocking back and forth for several minutes in the fetal position while squeezing his mashed up hand, Sev got up and announced he was officially retiring from their new-found sport.

 
...And to think this was just day ONE!  I was going to have to come up with a plan if these boys were going to survive the rest of the week unscathed.

Atomic Dare

I got an e-mail from my sister-in-law the other day relating the following story about Connor and his older cousin Tanner who is always trying to make a game out of every situation:

"Last night I dropped Tanner and Connor off at the youth fireside at the church. Tanner just happened to have two ATOMIC fireball candies in his pocket.

Just before the meeting started, Tanner says to Connor, "Let's put these in our mouths during the fireside and see who can keep it there the whole time."  

It was decided that the LOSER would have to stand up and stretch right in the middle of the meeting.  Connor was game.

Little did Tanner realize that Connor has a bionic tolerance for spice and heat! According to Nick who was sitting with them, Connor sat calmly with the fireball in his mouth, as if he was sucking on Cheerios. But Tanner looked visibly uncomfortable.  Tanner fidgeted, his face turned red, and he even broke into a SWEAT!!!!  All the while, Connor sucked on his fireball as if nothing was unusual.

In Tanner's words, "CONNOR PONED ME!"

(Tanner suffered through the entire fireball so he wouldn't have to stand up and stretch. He said it was one of the most horrible experiences of his life!)"

Perhaps the subject that sermon-filled evening should have been  
"Thou Shalt Not Propose a Dare at Church".  It's too bad Tanner didn't realize that since the age of two, Connor's favorite snacks have been Hot Cheetos & Hot Tamales.  Poor Tanner, a little "Know Thy Cousin" may have prevented the "hellfire and damnation" he experienced there on that church pew! 

Connor Skillman's Day Off

NOTE: Despite the seemingly reckless nature in which it may appear that I’ve treated this sensitive subject, I did indeed get permission from living persons involved with this story--HOWEVER--deceased persons were not available for comment.

Ferris Bueller has nothing on Connor.  Connor got the day off school earlier this week and I think he got way way more than he bargained for.

His adventurous day started off with a mid-morning visit to the doctors office to get current on all his vaccinations.  A few days prior we received a letter in the mail from his school alerting us to the fact that the kid was perniciously behind on his shots and was about to be barred from going back to school. 

 

At the doctor’s office, we found out which shot Connor was not current on:  Tetanus.  TETANUS!  Now there’s a contagion that spreads like wildfire.

So after doing our civic duty and inoculating the kid so he could once again qualify for an education, I decided to take him to Dairy Queen--where all the woes of a kid who just got a big ol' shot in the arm can be soothed away in frosted splendor.  Connor sat and consoled himself over a chicken strip basket and frozen Oreo Blizzard while silently concocting a scheme that entailed and elaborate ruse which he hoped would result in not going back to school.  In a swirl of ice cream-induced bravado, he then commenced a short soliloquy on this endeavor.  As he was mid-proposal, I got a phone call which put his little truancy speech on hold.

The phone call came from an acquaintance whose sweet mother had passed away.  A very sad thing indeed.  She had called to see if there was any way I thought a coffin might fit in the back of my excursion, the car we call “The Beast”, the mother of all SUV's that I’ve always claimed was big enough to haul anything.  It now appeared as though I was about to get the chance to do a little fact-checking.

This friend actually makes coffins and she needed to transport it from her house to the funeral home and did not want to incur the hefty $750 charge the funeral home would bill her if she used their hearse.

Well, why not?

But there was one teensy weensy little hitch.  The coffin they wanted me to transport was not an empty one.  Yes, it would have a passenger inside.  Gulp.

Well who am I to turn down the need of a friend, albeit a most unique need.  Why the heck not?  The title “Hearse” could definitely be added to our excursion’s long esteemed list of dutiful descriptions.  I told her I’d be right there and then hung up the phone.

Then I looked across the table at Connor and smiled wide.  “Connor…how bad do you want to get out of school?”

  

“Pretty bad Mom.  I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yup.  Clean the house, whatever.”

I smile even wider.  “How ‘bout move a dead body?”

He looked at me quizzically.

  

“Yes, move a body.  You wouldn’t mind would you?”   

I gave him a little explanation and without hesitating he said it sounded much better than going back to school and agreed to come.  But I’m not sure he knew what he had just bargained for. 

When we reached my acquaintance’s house they had me back into the driveway near the garage door.  Connor and I stepped out in the rain and waited patiently by the garage.  And although we’ve never had much experience as hearse drivers we knew this sort of job required patience.  So we waited.  Ever so reverently I might add.  And if we had to talk at all we used our library voices.

After a while there was stirring in the garage and soon the garage door began to lift open.  Our first assumption as newly appointed hearse drivers was that of course we would find a coffin inside the garage, which I can assure you we did.  What we had not expected was that the coffin was still open.  Connor was in for a bit of a shock there.   

Once the door was opened, I stepped farther in the garage as Connor took several GIANT steps back from of the garage.  My friend motioned to him that is was alright for him to come in and take a peek but he politely declined with an “Uh, I’m actually okay right here, but thank you.”

At least the kid was polite.

I ventured in and my friend and I both peered inside.  Her mom looked fantastic.  I commented on her hair and her make-up and even the fact that her nails were polished to perfection. 

Soon the lid was placed on the coffin and a few men loaded her coffin gently into the back of my car.  It was official—the Con-Man and I were now hearse drivers.  Connor and I ever so carefully and respectfully climbed into the excursion and headed to the mortuary. 

Connor was quiet for a few minutes and then he finally spoke.  In a slight whisper so that perhaps our passenger might not overhear or conversation, he said, “Mom, I can’t believe women are still worried about their hair and make-up after they die.”

I smiled knowing he had heard me comment to my friend on how nice her mother looked.  “Yep, I’m afraid so son.  It’s a girl thing, and it seems we don’t stop after we’re dead.  You’ll make sure my hair and make-up look nice when I go won’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah I guess so,” he weakly offered.  Then he cheerfully added, “I’ll even make sure you’ve got your Uugs on if you want.”

“Good idea.” I said.  Although if I happen to go while it's summer time someone please tell the kid to just put me in my favorite flip-flops.

Our jaunt into the world of hearse driving took us about a half hour and during that time we were presented with some heretofore unknown transportation quandaries:

It was a chilly day out and Connor and I were both cold from standing outside in the rain so I turned the heat on.  As I did so, Connor quickly turned it back off and then quizzed me on whether or not that was such a good idea.  He thought we’d better be careful not to overheat the inside of the car.   But it was pretty chilly and I was afraid that driving all that way in the January chill would result in not just one--but all three passengers suffering from rigor-mortis by the time we arrived.   Then Connor, who was taking our job very seriously, remembered that our excursion came equipped with duel heat zones!  Connor suggested it was best to set ours on warm--not hot--and set the back on cool.   A good compromise we could all live with...so to speak.

With our thermostat quandaries solved, Connor then remarked how unusually bumpy the road was.  He felt the corners seemed especially sharp, the train tracks especially jarring, and the huge potholes excessively rutted.  For him it proved to be a nerve racking drive as he was sweetly concerned about our fellow passenger and wanted her to arrive in the best possible condition.  He worried that contents might shift as we threaded our way through town and kept a vigilant eye on the road ahead alerting me to any disruptive hazards.   I've seen him less careful holding a jello mold on his way to a church potluck.  

At last we arrived at the funeral home and successfully finished our most serious task.   On the way home I asked him if he would have rather gone back to school instead of driving shotgun on our little hearse adventure.  He thought about it for a moment and said,  

"I'm sorry that lady died but I'm glad she got me out of math class."

By the time we were done with our errand school was out and Connor indeed got his wish.  

But for me, the next day was the fun part.  That's because I've become a little infamous down at the school for my unique writing skills.  It seems I have a real flair for penning an excuse note.  These notes to school, in my opinion, are an untapped source of joy that parents have sorely overlooked.  My kids hate taking excuse notes to school that I've written for them.  My theory is that no one ever really reads them so I always try and include bizarre reasons, sometimes so strange that my kids would rather take their chances and not bring any excuse to school at all. 

So the next morning I was extra excited about writing his note.  It was sure to be the mother-of-all-excuse notes in the history of my authorship.  I simply wrote: 

‘Please excuse Connor from school yesterday.  He had to help me move a dead body.” 

I’m fairly sure Connor probably left it in the bottom of his backpack with all the other excuses I've written that he was too embarrassed to turn in.  Instead I bet he chose to be unexcused and note-less and miss out on his lunch recess for having an unexcused absence.

But if he did he'd probably tell you it was a fair trade.  At this point the kid has certainly proved he'll do anything to get out of math class.

Thir-TEEN

Today Connor officially became a teenager and literally celebrated it with a bang.  First it was celebrated with the ultimate gift Connor could ever receive...

For Connor, there's no better way to turn thirteen than to celebrate it with your very own private stash of thirteen boxes of your very own cereal. 


Then, with the help of our friends the Sharps, he was inducted into his teens in a swirl of gunfire and gas.

First on the birthday agenda was some serious go-kart racing.

Earlier that day, Mont set up a challenging race course at their family's tarp shop and turned their massive warehouse floor into
a giant slick kart track.

The boys division was a serious event...

 

Between the Sharps and Skillmans go-karts, there was always one that was pulling into the pits for repairs.  It seems they weren't really designed for the aggressive rough-housing we put them through over the years.

 

Among the aggressive racers, Connor and Rob are all-stars.  Here they are after they crashed while trying to squeeze each other out in a tight turn.  They knocked the conveyer belt down and one of them ran over Rob's sleeve...

 Which somehow managed to rip off his shirt sleeve but leave his arm unscathed!

 Rob then decided his sleeve made a nice racing headband.

And the girls races were even more competitive...

Let's just say that you do not want to underestimate the moms.  

Deanne and I were willing to run over more sleeves 

if necessary to cross the finish line FIRST.

After a serious battle of go-carts it was time for Nerf Wars!

Here's Team Skillman:

...and Team Sharp:

oh, and thanks guys...

nice touch shooting me right after I took this photo.

But I suppose that's what happens when you're embedded

in a war zone, there's a large possibility you'll get shot 

by UNfriendly fire.

Chloe and Mark were locked and loaded...

Kayleigh uses the shop supplies as a barricade:

Brock Sharp hides in the industrial shelving:

While Nick prefers an all out assult:

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Chloe:

 

Mitchell prefers a high point from which to snipe:

(he was pretty good at picking off people 

with his homemade blow dart contraption.)

Connor chose a unique way to 

both conseal himself from the enemy

and shield himself from darts:

No surprise here,

The Skillmans win the battle!

 Round two, three, four, and five got more serious:

 More sniping was involved:

This time by Brandon on the scissor lift.

And really really long range missile launching

by Mont was involved too:

 

This method was FAST and FURIOUS.

But once again, the Skillmans prevailed.

Our little Nerf-Capture-the-Flag ended in Skillman victory!

  

Not a bad way to turn 13.

Happy Birthday Con-Man!

The victory feast was pizza and an awesome ice cream and oreo cake made by Deanne.  Once again, the Sharps know how to throw an awesome party!

Do Not?

Connor and Nick were super excited when they spotted this in the store recently:

It's a Double Barrel Shotgun that loads up like the real thing. 

Apparently they've been watching re-runs of Elmer Fudd or something because they got really excited about snapping the thing in half to load it up as if it were "Wabbit Season".  As soon as they spotted it on the store shelf, Connor and Nick were unloading their pockets and pooling their money together to buy it. 

Before we even got to the parking lot the boys had the thing torn out of the box and had it loaded and ready to go just in time for a shooting spree inside my car-- which I might note, made for a lovely drive home.  If lawmakers think cell phones are the number one distraction for drivers they need to think again.  They've obviously never tried to navigate a car while it's "Air Warrior" passengers were engaged in "double barrel dart blasting" practice.

When I got back to the house, I picked up the box the boys had carelessly discarded inside my car and I noticed this little warning printed on a small area on the back of the box:

Within the first ten minutes of shotgun ownership, these boys had defiled Do Not number 1, 3, 4, and Warning numbers 5 and 6.

Apparently the makers of our fine new shotgun DO NOT have any experience raising boys.  If they had, they would know these warnings highlight the exact reasons why kids like Connor and Nick love to buy stuff like this.

...Meanwhile, the people and animals mentioned in DO NOT #1 have all run for cover until target practice is over or, blessed be, when all the darts have been safely lost--whichever comes first.
 

Shopping with Boys

Just a few days before school started I decided I'd better get serious about back-to-school shopping.  I'd put it off long enough,  which is a classic move on my part.  I always seem to wait to the very last minute to shop for school because I detest it so much. The reason?  This loathsome ritual is the horrific sign that the end of summer is near.  And while most parents loooove sending their kids back to school, I rather like having mine around and being free from school schedules that seem to get in the way of fun family adventures.

But school was just around the corner and some shopping needed to be done.

This year's Back-to-school shopping quest was quite different because I had no daughters with me--this time it was just the boys. Four of them in all.

• Mark (playing the part of 'mature parent')
• Nick (cast in a supporting role as 'helpful friend')
• Connor (playing 'the little brother' in this scenero)
• Mitchell (cast as the lead as the 'college bound student who is in desperate need of some new jeans').

• Oh yeah, and me (playing the part of 'woman perilously trapped shopping with F-O-U-R boys')

Our first stop was for, of course, for jeans.

No sooner had I zero-ed in on the size we were looking for and had forced Mitchell into a dressing room with a pile of pants to try on, I begin to hear a ruckus coming from somewhere in the store.  Naturally I ALREADY KNOW who's probably behind all the noise and I go to investigate. This is what I find:

Nick ('supportive friend') is outfitting Connor and making him pose with the store mannequins.  Mark ('mature parent') decides he's not letting Nick outfit him in real clothes but eventually agrees to try on the entire mannequin by posing behind the headless ones. By the time Mitchell found the right jeans Nick had Connor in several outfit combinations and paraded him around the store to pose by the remaining mannequins and scare the customers.

Then we were off to the shoe store.  How much trouble can you get in there??

The answer is:  A LOT.  We weren't even in the store for more than two minutes when this debacle happened:

The pairs that fit Mitchell's enormous feet were
a wee bit too high up for Mark to reach:

And instead of him smartly asking Nick

who stands at 6'4" and CAN reach the box...

 (apparently Nick was too busy trying to get Connor 
to try on the goofiest looking shoes in the store.)

...Mark just tugs at the lower ones...

Mark spilled the entire stack of shoes!  Unfortunately my stealthy i-phone camera skills didn't reach the crime scene in time to capture all the shoes that fell to the floor. Mark had managed to stuff a few back before I got there because he knew I'd be coming with my camera. [These folks have been blogged too many times to let their guard down anymore-dang it!]

I may not have gotten the optimal photo shot but I did get the last laugh...

When we went to buy the shoes, the lady at the checkout, with a scoffing look, loudly told all the boys that 'this is the very reason why, when customers buy a pair of shoes, we always check that both shoes are the same size.' 

[secret message received.] 

After that crazy outing I made the boys take me out for some chocolate.  It was while sitting there eating chocolatey goodness amidst a pile of shopping bags I realized that while our summer adventures may be over, I've learned that if I'm really in the mood for an escapade,  and school's still in, all I need to do is take a bunch of boys shopping...and bring my camera.  Almost as entertaining as a summer road trip.