Saint Uncle.....I salute you

Hello, lovelies!!  It has been FOREVER since I have blogged and I have to say I have missed you.

The reason for my long absence is two fold.

#1. I have four children.
 In the time it has taken me to write these few lines, I have been interrupted no less than 139,874,795,875 times.  Questions like, "But how do I clean my room mommy? I don't know hooooow" and "Hey look what I can do mom! Isn't this the coolest!" and "Thumbelina is not helping clean our room momma!!  And most of this is her mess!!" (which I know is not a question but a proclamation, but never the less my mini me requires a response to even the most rhetorical of statements).

#2. I lost my funny for awhile. 
We had quite a few bombs dropped on my family in the recent.  I had blogged about my brother's cancer.  We are also currently finding a new normal in my extended family as we care for aging parents as a group and are figuring out how to do that.  In the process of doing that it has required a lot of emotions and emoting on my part. None of that was good for public consumption.  Finding out who you are while going through major life events has a tendency to suck the funny right out of you.  But fortunately, I have learned that I am a pretty resilient person, and new normals and funny things can be found in even the darkest of times.

So now I seem to be back to my old self with new and wonderful travels in the odyssey of parenting to share with you, dear reader!  Thanks for sticking around!


I thought I would start my return from the nether with a bang.  Have I got a fun story for y'all!!!!

First, let me give you an update on where we are with littles and your royal highness.

This year, YRH has started high school.  All I have to say about that is my baby boy is now not only taller than me, but gaining ground on his dad, and is SHAVING!!

Fix. It. Jesus.

How am I parent to a high schooler???? I remember high school like...really really well.  I know what sort of things I did in high school. I am not prepared for this.

Next, Thumbelina and mini me are now in Second grade.  They are into hair, and clothes, and big girl stuff.  What the actual what??  They are semi-logical, and you can somewhat reason with them once in a while.  It is surreal.

And finally, last but not least, and the star of our story for today, Little Man.  He just started kindergarten, which I know, I know....how in the ever did that happen?  Well, apparently if you continually feed and water children, they will continue to live and do stuff.  Who knew???

So before I start our tale, I have to give you a little back story.

Last year,  we have had to have several discussions about not kissing boys on the playground.  Becuase, well, we have had some issues with one of our daughters kissing boys on the playground.  (The admiral is currently dying a thousand deaths just reading this sentence.)  And in the process of the discussion at the table the night of one of the incidents, I watched the blood drain from his face, and I thought I was going to have to run for smelling salts. Though....I am not entirely sure where one would get smelling salts, I just know when one is dying a thousand deaths, one needs smelling salts.

But I digress.

We had a big talk about how we do not kiss boys on the playground, we do not kiss friends, we only kiss mommy and daddy and, sure, why not, your brother and sister.  BUT THAT IS IT!!  Are hugs ok?  Of course, hugs are ok.  You can hug all of your friends.  That is fine.

In addition to needing this lesson, Little man is learning about family.  I have a very very large extended family, and this is all very confusing for Little man.  He has trouble keeping all of the uncles, aunts, cousins, and cousins' boyfriends and girlfriends straight.  So we very often have to go over who all is and is NOT in our family.  His mind was literally blown apart when I explained that his cousin was getting married, and though, no, her fiance was not a part of our family yet, as soon as they are married, he will, in fact, yes, be a part of our family from there on out.

Head. Canon.

Allow me to fast forward to our story.

My sister's wonderful husband had promised Little man that he would let him come over for a camp out in the backyard during the summer. (We all know, momma doesn't camp.)  As with most summers, they go by fast and all of a sudden there is no summer left.  So the first Friday after Little man's first week of school, he called me.
"Would he like to camp out tonight?  I am free. I just need a tent."
"Oh yes, he is going to freak out!  He would love that. I have a tent you can use."

Plans were made, time was set.  Little man was psyched.

That evening, Little man heads over to the campout.  Just he and his Uncle.  The tent was set up, fire in the fire pit.  Marshmallows and sticks ready.

I received a ton of texts from my brother in law with pictures of Little man roasting mallows, running in and out of the tent, feet up by the fire. Flashlight shone creepily on his face.  He was having a ball.  At about 10 pm, his uncle said, "Hey let's go up and play at the park!  It is night time and we will have the place to ourselves!"  Little man grabs his flashlight and is already running.

They get there, and apparently, because of the nice weather, they were not the only ones who thought a night time play session was a good idea.  Most of the neighbors and their kids and/or grandkids were there, talking and playing, and socializing.  After a little while, Little man is climbing on the play structure clear across the entire playground.

He yells to his uncle at the top of his lungs (which btw is he is already really really loud, so this is even louder) "You are my uncle right?"

Now, looking at this through the neighbor's eyes, this question....it looks super suspicious, right? "why is he asking this?  Did he snatch this kid off the street by saying he is his uncle?"  It just sounds wrong, doesn't it?

Little man is not done.

His uncle (Who I am calling now and forever more, saint uncle.) replies, "Yes.  Yes I am Little man."

Little man pauses for only a moment before pointing his finger at his uncle and saying, "You can hug me, but you can't kiss me." and returns to climbing on the structure.

Get. The. Smelling. Salts.

Saint uncle was not dying a thousand deaths. He was dying 4,982,349,874 deaths at this point.  Surely the cops were being called.

Upon relaying this story to me, saint uncle said, "Honestly at this point I was tempted to just yell back, 'Ok little man, now get back in the tent in my back yard', because I could not have been any creepier to these people."

Saint uncle.....I salute you....