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IT'S GOOD TO BE THE QUEEN is an international party of moms – who only have boys - who celebrate being the only source of estrogen in their castle and support each other as we face the challenges of raising responsible, respectful men.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Fellow Queens!
Yes my Majesties, it is baseball season. Time to spend your Saturdays cheering for your kids and praying you don’t keel over from heat exhaustion.
When my middle kid was in 1st grade he asked his coach why a cup was not part of the provided uniform. “Uh, you’re going to have to talk about that one with your parents,” coach replied as he fought back laughter. Now I can tackle most things my kids throw at me head on, but that one got tossed to Dad.
The fun begins when they actually do get their cup. It is like a spectator sport, its own little game within the game. I have heard tell of boys wearing their cup on the outside of the uniform, wearing their cups to church so they can ‘get used to it’ and leaving the cup on the living room table after the game.
My youngest kid doesn’t even wear one yet and he is still out there checking to see if he is anatomically complete. I have thought of a great drinking game for all us spectators. Every time my kid touches his crotch, we take a shot. We would be absolutely hammered by the second inning. No driving for you, yerrrr out!
Last week, due to our recent lice infestation, all the moms yelled into the dugout, “Don’t put Christopher’s batting helmet on for ANY reason!” How could I blame them.
Here’s a baseball story from Queen Tracy of Sioux Fallas, South Dakota -
Tonight, my son Alex decided that before he could bat he had to deliver a lecture on the solar system. I let him get through planets before I yelled at him to get busy and bat.
Batter up!
Queen Linda
How It All Began
It was July 2001. I was lying there on the exam table in the oh-so fashionable paper dress -- expanding belly exposed with cold goop on it. The sono tech glided over me as hubby looked on. They read the screen. I read them.
Suddenly they both jumped. "Did you see that?" she asked. "I saw something but I don't know what it was," Hubby said. "We call that proof it's a boy." she said. Life without girls in my home was a certainty.
So what was it exactly that made me realize that I needed support from my boys-only sisters? Perhaps it was when I told my oldest for the millionth time that his athletic cup did not belong on coffee table. Or possibly when the 5 year old started a roly poly collection in his underwear drawer? Or could it have been when the baby mastered the art of projectile spewing with a mouthful of peas? Oh, who knows! It happened!
The Road to Royalty
I can spot moms of boys a mile away. I can smell it on them. It's a certain twinkle, a smile that has something behind it. A particular glimmer that let's you know that she has the Dean's office, an orthopedic surgeon and a plumber on speed dial. I love my fellow Queens almost as much as my boys. You will too. So, regal moms of boys, let's get started on your Road to Royalty!
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