Last weekend Jon was in California for the week (again, don't ask, he moves me to Utah and out of the month we have been here he has spent 2 of them in California ... on boondoggles ... going to places like San Francisco, eating at the pier, riding trolley's eating sushi with Japanese clients, and touring the Ghiradelli chocolate factory. Somewhere in there he claims there are alot of "meetings". To this I offer a hearty, "my ass."), Kati had a baby shower on Saturday, Uncle Juan volunteered to watch 3 of my kids (Bennett was, of course, strapped to my hip as usual) and there was a family birthday celebration on Saturday as well. Since Jon was gone, the kids and I opted to take the weekend to go to North Ogden.
For those of you unfamiliar with the geographics of Utah it goes like this ... my house, Saratoga Springs where people are very righteous, ride around on clouds, and say things like, "holy frigging crap" when they are really bothered. A few miles south are the polygamist colonies with their polyglits (children) in tow. Further north, about an hour, is North Ogden, the land of my youth. In North Ogden people are not quite as righteous (belive me, impossible to be as righteous as Saratoga Springs aka land close to Eagle Mountain, questionably under the radar polygamists, I'm sure of it), they don't ride clouds, rather SUV's and 15 passenger vans, and when they fly into fits of rage I have heard a, "you friggin butthole" uttered. I think there may be a few polygamists in North Ogden, but they must be in hiding because I've never seen one. In a nutshell, it's a little over an hour from my house to Mom's.
Since there are 2 weeks of school left, I let the kids take Friday off and we headed north Thursday after school. The kids are always ecstatic to go to Nana's. Nana on the other hand, never received my text message telling her we were headed up there that night so she was "surprised" to see myself and my heard show up at her door about 8 p.m. Thursday night. She took it in stride. Poor Nana. The kids love my Mom's for lot's of reasons. In order a) trampoline b) snack cabinet with unlimited snacks c)she makes them hot breakfasts every morning c) she lets them do what they want, including trashing her poor basement with toys, etc. etc. when ALL the cousins come to visit ... all 6 of them ... making the total 9 ... all boys.
Saturday we go to Kati's baby shower and leave poor Uncle Juan with 6 boys ages 13 - 2. When I came home hours later Juan and the boys were nowhere to be found. My first thought was someone was in the ER. Second thought, they locked Juan in the basement and headed out to the neighborhood to seek new adventures. I made a call. "Uh, Kati, Juan and the kids aren't here. There's a sink full of dishes, so I know they ate lunch somewhere in the day, but, uh, not here." She suggested they were at the park. Huh, didn't even think about that. Moments later, I hear a crashing of thundering elephants, a slamming door, giggling, and a very exhausted looking Uncle Juan bringing up the rear end of the 6 boys. Poor Juan. They had been at the park. He was trying to run them ragged ... as if that would work!
Kati and my mom had stopped in Layton to pick up Maranda's three boys (other sister) so Maranda and Jake could ride their bikes to my mom's (why, why, why, but they are rugged little people so off they go). Ten minutes after the thundering, giggling hyena's arrive in the door they are greeted by three more cousins. Do the math ... we now have 9 boys ages 2-13 and of course, Bennett the 3 month old. Bennett is out of the story because he doesn't count ... he's to young to participate. Mom has a finished basement ... with a couch ... a large sectional ... a television, toys, a WII, and netflix. In other words, a dream basement for boys.
The day of the baby shower was also the day we were celebrating Kati's birthday (the next day). By the time Jake and Maranda showed up on their bikes (about an hour later), Nana, yes Nana, had put one of the cousins in "time out" for yelling the phrase, "what the hell!?!" which she happened to catch. Another nephew nouthed off to poor Nana when she informed him he could not, should not, would not be jumping off the top of the shed onto the trampoline. Said nephew has taught all of the other nephews how to shimmy onto the roof of the shed and jump unto the trampoline. There's a broken leg, arm, or other something or another in the near future, I'm sure of it. Nana suggested the boys move a wood pile, Maranda and Jake got on the project, and for a blessed moment or two the slave labor kept them from getting into trouble. But it was only one moment ...
Nana was "frazzled" to say the least. Again, poor Nana. We managed to eat dinner. Dinner's when we all gather go something like this ... one sister says, "well, should we fix the kids plates first?" The next sister says, "yeah, that will be easier than trying to feed everyone at the same time." The next sister (there are three of us) says, "okay, it's burgers, ask them what they want on them and we can just make them and send the kids outside." Next sister, sister not thinking straight, says, "well, let's just let them fix their own buns." Two other sisters in tandom, "are you nuts?!?!" Plates are finally fixed, some of them doing their own buns, some of them not, all of them complaining there was no cheese (we're talking MAJOR crisis with the no cheese situation). And like all gatherings, when they are done eating, the adults eat, and we send them away.
Crash, yell, thump, cry. These are the sounds that come from Nana's basement. Occasionally, a few of them will come screaming like banshees through the house, passing all of us sitting in the front room/dining room on their way, as they slam the door from the front to the back to the basement of the house. Nana, poor Nana, I'm pretty sure she wonders where God went wrong sending all grandsons and silently thanks the maker there is a girl on the way.
We usually say nothing ... unless there's blood ... which inevitably there usually is. Dessert. One sister says, "should we just eat it first and then tell the kids?" Second sister, "hell yes!" (that would be me) Third sister, "but we have to sing happy birthday." Crap. I was voted to go to the basement and tell the kids it was birthday time ... and to my surprise (yeah right) not one, not two, not even three or four of the cushions were off of Nana's giant sectional ... every damned one of them was piled in the center of the room. Not in a fort, not in something that was actually resembling some sort of smarts on their part, just a pile. Toys ... everywhere. Their faces when they saw me ... deer in the headlights. I maintained my cool and said, "cushions, on the couch, now ... Eldridge boys, this is NOT okay at home why in the hell would you think it was okay here?!" Reaction? All of the boys stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. WTF?! I had to repeat myself 5 times before they started to make a move. Boys, as I have said many, many times before, are idiots.
Poor, poor, poor Nana. She looked exhausted, frazzled, and a little bit on the might need pharmeceutical interventions to maintain sanity by the time all of us left. Everyone is coming to my house this weekend, Sunday, for a little holiday BBQ. I think I might have the boys pull weeds in the giant flower bed. We've had alot of rain as of late, the weeds are getting a tad out of control despite my best efforts ... and I think I can slave labor all of them for at least and hour or two. No worries, I will throw capri suns at their heads every 30 minutes or so to prevent dehydration... because I'm just that sort of awesome Aunt.
