Boys Are Weird

Boys Are Weird
August 14, 2003

I remember that day well, when we discovered our proverbial bundle of joy was on the way. Summer was rushing headlong into fall as the leaves turned their fiery colors of orange, yellow and red, holding on till the last possible moment, before floating gracefully to the ground. A little boy would arrive before the upcoming summer, what luck for my first to be a boy, because I've heard that boys are easier to raise than little girls.

Fall slid into winter as quickly as my inability to slide into my clothes, but that was all right because after the little boy arrived I would reclaim my former shape. Besides how often did you have an excuse to devour everything you laid eyes upon and claim you did this because you were eating for two now.

Winter was thawing, making way for spring and from there we would coast into summer and in no time our boy would be here. Through all the morning, afternoon and evening sickness, the swollen ankles and feet, the back aches and more, I keep reminding myself that in the end it's going to be worth it, boys are easier to raise.

The day has come for his entrance into this world and into our lives, and he is more than I could have hoped for or imagined. Perfect little fingers and toes, pretty blue eyes, so soft and warm. We took home our little bundle of joy and put him in his crib for his first nap in his new home. Dad excuses himself for he must run to the store and buy a special gift for his new boy, but I stay behind to watch him sleep. I think to myself, so far its easy raising this boy, for all he does is eat and sleep.

Dad returns from the store with little cars and a few action figures and a little stuffed bear, to which I inform him he is a bit too young for those, except for that bear. He volunteers unselfishly to hang on to those others till his boy is older and can take great care of these special toys that Dad has chosen for his number one son.

Days become weeks and weeks become months, then soon those months turn into years. Now two years have passed and that little boy has been such a joy. There have been no terrible two's, and if he was ever teething I really can't recall, for he has been so easy to raise. Suddenly we discover that another bundle of joy is on the way, and on a spring day we are told we should prepare. We must have another boy for they are so easy to raise, but this is not to be for a little girl is what will arrive. This will be okay for even though they live for the drama we are prepared, for we have perfected this thing called child rearing with this boy who has been so easy to raise.

She comes into this world full of fire and spunk as she rolls on her stomach and lifts herself up yelling to the world, she has arrived. Perfect little fingers and toes, with pretty blue eyes she is so soft and warm, and except for a bow of pink she looks just like that boy who is so easy to raise.

Returning from the store with shoes, dresses and dolls I find her still sleeping, so far so good I think to myself, no drama just eat and sleep. I find father and son looking at the little cars and actions hero toys that have multiplied in our room over the years, those he unselfishly holds for when his boy gets older.

One morning I awake to a scream so loud the worst that could happen cross's my mind. Racing to her room I come to discover, it seems big brother has touched her toy that hangs on her crib, the drama has arrived. Calm is restored and he is put back in his room to play with his toys only to find her now naked dolls and a few action heroes’ nearby, he may be easy to raise but he is a little weird. Gathering up the dolls I return them to the one who lives for drama, filled with fire and spunk.

Years quickly pass by filled with her drama and his weird in which I wonder if they really are easier to raise, for boys can be so weird. She is now 11 and he just 13 and they spin the drama and the weird till my head feels an explosion is near. She talks of clothes, friends and boys, two of those three she claims to understand. He tells me every diarrhea limerick he knows, and laughs at the end of each one. He asks why girls have to be so dramatic about everything they do or say. She tells of who said what to whom, and who did what to whom, will the drama ever end, and she wants to know why boys have to be so weird. I raise my hands and plead for a moment that contains no drama or weird, for my head is spinning out of control.

The front door opens and in walks their Dad who is carrying a package that I know belongs to me. Hugging the kids he passes by and kisses my cheek, how was your day he asks, continuing on his way. You would not believe the drama and the weird, but things are looking better if that package you carry is for me. Smiling he pulls out the contents to share with his boy, and much to my chagrin it is another toy?! What are you thinking, just toys, toys, toys I spout out with much drama as I am leaving the room.

I look down at my daughter standing by my side, the one who is so easy to raise and wonder, should I tell her what we all soon find out. Boys do grow up, but they will always be weird.

The Morning After

The Morning After
Jun 27, 2001

With the last of the ice packs applied, the tears no longer flowing and the accusing stares no only glances, I now have a quiet moment. Oh yes, the legal fees and fines are all paid, too.

Yesterday was the release of Mountain Soul, as we all know and I, as everyone else, went out to purchase my copy of this fine album.

I decided a change of tactics was needed this time, after the last fiasco. So, being the good mom I am, I bribed my eldest. What was his price for helping mom secure two copies of this album? The answer was easy…baseball cards.

We reached our first and what we thought was our only destination for the album. There were several people standing outside with us as we waited and finalized the plans. One particular woman was very interested in our discussion, which I observed right away. Giving my co-hort the secret signal, as the doors opened, he gave the woman two quick elbow shots, and took off running. To further slow down the woman, I accidentally stepped on her which elicited more than a moan. My gosh, what language!!!

I was walking at a quick pace to the record department when I noticed my partner caressing packs of baseball cards. HEY, NO CARDS TILL YOU GET MY COPIES!!! MOVE YOUR A**!!! He started to snivel, but with a menacing glare he stopped and ran to the record department.

When I arrived, my little buddy was standing there looking panicked and staring at an empty bin, there was no Mountain Soul CD. With a guttural wail, I dropped to my knees and screamed, BUT I HAVE A CHARGE CARD FOR YOUR STORE!!!! Soon a strange looking person arrived, much to my surprise it was an actual employee, and they were trapped, they had to help. The frightened employee told me that the shipment had not arrived, that it would be there tomorrow, even though the ad said today. With my finely honed un-catlike reflexes, I staggered to my feet panting heavily clutching my chest. WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DID NOT ARRIVE?! The employee, unlocked his knees long enough to run like a woman, screaming, ‘she’s back! Take cover!’ Soon men in red shirts with radio are descending on my boy and me, pouncing on us and wrestling us to the ground. The picked us up and carried us to the front door screaming into the radio’s that the situation was under control. In a moment that brought a tear to my eye, my son, showing a strong family trait, bit the hand of one of his captors and snatched several packs of cards from the shelf.

Once again I was tossed unceremoniously out the front door on my [b]ass, and told not to come back till the next release. My son feeling shame and humiliation glared at me in an accusing way, which soon faded when he found a Ken Griffey, Jr. card in the pack. We picked ourselves up, and walked to the urban assault vehicle to go to our back up store.

We arrived at our next destination with a slight revision to our plan, I had to promise to control myself. Walking into the front door, we calmly strolled to the record department, and controlling my convulsive shakes, I saw the empty slot where Mountain Soul was supposed to be. No wailing or crying came forth, for I had no charge card for this store. Kicking and old woman on a walker out of the way, I sauntered over to an employee that was bending over pulling stock out of a box. Once the loud crashing sound and cursing was over, I asked for what was rightfully mine, two copies of Mountain Soul. Eyeing the old woman on the floor, she went to help her, and I grabbed her arm telling her that the old woman can manage, get my CD’S. Fear flashed across her face and she ran to the back screaming something about she’s here, she’s here. I walked back to my son, and told him I would be just down the aisle, searching for that elusive CD, Tom Jones Greatest Hits, and to let me know when she gets back.

Lost in my search I heard muffled voices from the other aisle, I heard the words Mountain Soul, and thank you, in a slightly high pitched voice. Fear exploded like lightening, thru every fiber of my being. Someone was taking my CD’S!! I climbed over the shelving unit to the other side, and with no thought to my health and safety, delivered a massive elbow smash to the person below stealing my CD’s. Picking myself up with CD’s in hand, victory was mine, at last. Looking down at my son, the unintended victim of my elbow smash, as he lay on the floor, I calmly asked how many packs of cards this was going to cost. Once he quit crying, and Lord did he cry, I told him it was an accident, but nooooooooooo he would not believe that. Anyway, I bought the big baby 5 packs of cards, which cost more than a FRIGGEN CD!!!

So, he has begun speaking to me somewhat, things like get me a glass of water, pick up my clothes and if you don’t I will tell dad what you did. In between all of that, I have greatly enjoyed this album, and it was well worth the effort once again.

Well, I gotta go; my son says there is some old woman with a walker wanting to talk to me outside…I wonder??...Nah, it couldn’t be her.

The Story Can Now Be Told

The Story Can Now Be Told
November 22, 2003

The court enforced gag order has been lifted, my 2,500 hours of community service and $5,000 fine has been served and paid. My urban assault vehicle is out of the impound lot and the decoy car has been fully repaired. The prodigal son is home now after serving 67 days of a 90 day sentence, and although the electronic monitoring devices chafes his ankle I know he is glad to be home, even if he has yet to express that sentiment to me.

I know what you’re thinking another Patty trip gone on an out of control bobsled to hell. Nope no riding those slippery rails this time; it was just a little excursion to the local department store for the latest CD, On Your Way Home. For some reason the local law enforcement community, court system, and the local retail community just do not understand the gravity of the situation when a new Patty CD is unleashed upon the world, or at least here in the U S. Obviously if they were TRUE PATTY FANS they would be a bit less judgmental on how I raise my kids!

Months of preparation went into my fool proof plan, or as stick in the mud Mr. Sulu said, “Only a fool would plan.” Since my urban assault vehicle has become a permanent fixture on the police BOLO list (Be On The Lookout) I decided to visit the local Ford dealership and shall we say take a test drive in one of their vehicles. After a much heated discussion with my 13 year old son we settled on the red convertible Mustang GT SVT with the ground effects package, because as he claims it’s a chick magnet. What I want to know is where my precious little baby picked up the term chick magnet. Handing over a duplicate of Jess’s license for them to hold in case we stole the sucker I suppose, we were off on our quest of the new Patty CD.

Sitting in the parking lot my sweet precious son and I went over the last minute details making sure there was nothing overlooked. “So, what is your price for helping me out on this?” I ask while packing the pepper spray and stun gun in the side pockets of his pants. “Wow, look at those hooters!” came a voice that sounded a bit huskier than I have heard. Looking around the outer perimeter of the car for who spoke I saw no one and turned my gaze on my precious who was sitting in the passenger seat. “What was that?” I ask. “How about the Dead or Alive Extreme Volleyball,” he replied, looking back at me with those big blue eyes and a beaming smile across that adorable face. “It’s a deal, you just get the CD and we will pick up your game when we switch back to our regular vehicle.”

Tucking the final strands of hair under my red wig, I put the finishing touches on with a pair of large framed sunglasses. I then popped in a piece of chewing gum, used half a bottle of perfume and checked my final appearance in the rearview before exiting the car. Entering the store we strolled past two security guards who were closely eyeing everyone who entered. Passing thru security unnoticed phase one of the plan was complete, now it was time for phase two, get the CD. Looking over at my son I gave the nod and we went running down the main aisle past women’s under apparel towards children’s clothing. Preparing to make a left past the kids department I noticed my precious son was no longer by my side. I knew he did not pass me so the only explanation was he fell behind, and fell behind he did for he was standing at the women’s underwear staring. “Will you come here!!” I shrieked, causing him to jolt out of his trance. Running towards me once more he was reaching in his pants pulling out pepper spray and the stun gun when a look of horror crossed his face. “Watch out Mom, behind you!” he warned tossing me the pepper spray. Turning around for a glance there was the commie pinko security guard heading my way. Screaming at the top of my lungs as I ran straight at him, he planted himself directly in front of me. At the last moment I dropped down to the floor sliding under him discharging a few quick shots of pepper spray, unfortunately it was discharged in the wrong direction. The burning in my eyes caused my screams to reach new volumes and people to clear a path as I flailed from side to side holding my hands up to my face. A hand grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me along as I continued screaming. “Quit being such a baby,” came the soft husky voice, “suck it up and move your ass woman, I have a video game with girls in bikini’s and big hooters waiting for me.” Thru blurry vision from tears and the spray I could make out the face of my sweet innocent son his eyes wild as he pulled me along to the record aisle. His hand darting out here and there followed by screams as we moved closer to our destination, he was zapping those who got in his way with the stun gun. “Find the CD and I will hold them off,” he yelled. Fumbling blindly thru bins I realized that I could not see clearly enough yet to find the CD. “I can’t see well enough yet, I can’t find it,” I wailed in between screams and zapping sounds. No sooner had I said that my darling son yelled that he had it, jammed it between his teeth and grabbed my arm once more dragging me thru the store.

To make a long story short we made it back to the dealership with minimal damage to the Mustang, and they held my urban assault vehicle until the damage was paid in full. In hindsight I guess giving them Jess’s license as a decoy identification was useless, apparently the police saw right thru that one as we returned home they were in our driveway waiting. I suppose making sure my son was the one caught with the stun gun in his possession was a bit sneaky, but I could not do the 90 days, I had a new Patty CD to listen to. Well that soft husky voice is calling, seems he wants me to see his newest tattoo, hopefully this one says MOM and not HOORAY FOR HOOTERS.

Just A Little More Rest
July 17, 2003

I hear them moving it won't be long now, my family is up, and they will come to see me, talk to me and stroke my body. There was a time not long ago it seems that I was the one who would greet them first, but now I am a bit too tired, but with a bit more rest I think I can do it again. Here she comes, my beloved master smiling and talking to me, but she seems so sad. I lift my head a little to say good morning and flick my tail, but I am a bit too tired to hold my head up too long so I will rest my head on my paws once more, I know she understands. She sits beside me scratching my ears and running her hand from my head to my tail, talking to me with love and care. My hair is a bit scratchier now, not smooth and shiny as it once was, but she does not seem to care. Soon she stops to offer me food and something to drink, but I really don't feel like it now, maybe after a little more rest. I lift my head to bring back her hand so she will scratch and stroke me more, I sure don't need a little more rest for that.

She talks of the times when it was just us, when I was little and was what she calls puppy nuts. I chewed up her favorite things into unrecognizable pieces, but she still loved me anyway. Then one day she brought him home and I was not pleased, who was the intruder that was always around. Every night she would go away, and I would sit by the door and wait for her return, I know she would never leave me. They would sit on the couch and I would join them, this was my place to be next to her not him, but soon it was just him and I was on the floor. He came to live here awhile later and to make him feel welcome I chewed his things too, but he didn't really get too mad, so I guess he is okay. He too is now my master, but not as beloved as she.

As time passed, she had what I can only describe as her own small litter and I grew to love them, too. Though they tested my patience with their constant pulling of my tail and ears they were fun to play with anytime and any day. Soon they too would spend their days away and I would sit by the door and await their return, I know they would never leave me. Now I am just a little too tired, but with just a bit more rest, we can go play again.

Now they are all here with me stroking me and talking to me, but still they all look so sad. I try to tell them that with just a little more rest I will be like new, up and playing once again. She strokes me once more then gathers me up in my blanket as we head for the door and out to the car we go, boy do I love to ride in the car. Open the window and let me hang out my head, feel the wind in my face and smell the air, but I am just a bit too tired to do that today. So, I will just lay my head in her arm and gaze outside, and with a little more rest I know I can do that again.

They are talking to a woman now and one I remember; she pokes and prods me in places that I find quite rude. As I lay on the cool table she looks in my eyes, she looks in my mouth; she feels my body from what I think is inside and out. She does scratch my ears and tells me I am good, so I guess she's not all that bad. I look at my family and they begin to cry when the woman says it is time. Time for what I wonder, but I feel too tired to ask.

My beloved holds me, cries, and tells me she loves me, and soon they all do, but when I am not as tired I will tell them, too. When we go home, I will get some sleep and then we will be like we were before I got tired. The woman grabs me up in my blanket and carries me to another room, with other people who too look sad. She lays me down and tells me it's okay, soon I will be okay, then I feel a small poke but she always does that. My beloved strokes me and talks to me, telling me it is time to sleep now, I think I will since I feel so very tired.

Stretching and yawning I jump to my feet ready to greet my family first thing. Running through the house I go from room to room, but no one is here, they will be back, for they would never leave me. Back through the house, I soon discover bones of all shapes and sizes, plus more food than I can possibly eat and a couch big enough to hold it all. I pass by a mirror and look at my coat that is so shinny and smooth, I am beautiful once more. Well, I suppose I could sit by the door and wait for them to come home, and show them that all I needed was a little more rest, but with all these bones, I think I will go puppy nuts.