The Way We Were

My visit with Honey is going well. It's so nice having her "home". She and her children are offering plenty of new material, which will be coming soon to a blog near you. A lot of our time together has been spent just talking about the good old days. Thankfully, we have very few misty water colored memories. We've had lots of good times, even when times were tough.

The problem with rolling down memory lane with eight kids in the house, most of whom are teenagers, is that, they won't go away so we can visit properly.

The good news is, together, Honey and I have so many embarrassing stories about each and every one of the little darlings, we can simply say something like, "Remember the time, Mr. Lane took Lane 1 fishing?" As quickly as those words zoom out of my mouth, my son, Lane 1 is running out the door.

At the tender age of 13, Lane 1 doesn't want to hear stories about his younger days no matter how funny those stories might be to everyone else. All of the other kids stood listening to the tale of that special father son moment.

One day, soon after we were finally able to bring Lane 2 home from the hospital, Mr. Lane decided to take the boy fishing so the girl and I could get some much needed rest.

He was almost 2 1/2-years-old. He was completely potty trained but had never been to a place that didn't have a bathroom, until fishing day. He told his father he needed to go. His father told him to flinch his butt cheeks because there was no place for him to go. Lane 1 explained that he couldn't make it "just go away".

Mr. Lane, being a resourceful man, walked our son into the woods. Lane 1 was mortified at the thought, but his rear end was ready regardless of the "bathroom" conditions. Reluctantly, he did his business.

When they returned from their fishing trip, Lane 1 couldn't wait to tell on his father.

Working up tears he said, "Mommy, (sniffle, deep sigh, sniffle) Daddy made me go poo-poo outside! (gasp, sniffle, big ol' tears rolling down his dirty cheeks) And he wiped my butt wiff (with) weaves (leaves)!"

All of the kids laughed, and ran outside to give Lane 1 a hard time. It was nice and quiet for at least an hour.

When they came back and began to invade mine and Honey's coffee talk time, I reminded her boys about the first time they noticed that Lane 2 was not a bottle fed baby.

All of the older boys let out a groan as I told the others how they hid under the kitchen table until my boob was out of Lane 2's mouth.

"Silly me! I thought all teenaged boys loved hearing stories about boobs." I shouted as they all ran outside to escape my breastfeeding tales.

Honey and I may be out numbered when it comes to kids versus grownups, but our arsenal is locked and loaded.

Tomorrow is Mr. Lane's birthday. If you would like to tell him what a lucky fucker he is to have such a darling wife, you can do so by e-mailing him at loislanesballandchain@hotmail.com or if you just want to send him birthday well wishes, that would be fine too.