Something about an overnighter

It always takes us several days it seems to get back to reality after a trip away from home. There’s just something about an overnighter that inhibits the hearing, alters the attitude, and transforms the conduct of little boys under five. Our recent Easter weekend was no different.

We had a great time visiting and playing with friends and family that we hadn’t seen in a while, but it never fails that by the time we get back home, something inside them has snapped, and it apparently takes an act of Nature to turn things around.

It began on Monday with the nagging and whining and profound loss of hearing. It seems the oldest had learned to torture his brother and the younger had been stripped of all auditory capacity…overnight phenomena. From Cooper’s punching and growling to the point of tears to Brisco’s blatant ignoring of my every request, if I thought they could have survived out doors all night, I’d have tossed them a pillow and locked the door behind me. I opted for a more positive alternative, telling myself that surely tomorrow would be a better day.

As better days go, I’d say Tuesday probably didn’t qualify. From the moment they rolled out of bed, they were aggravating, annoying and antagonizing one another beyond reason. They had forgotten how to share, refused to work as a team, and had taken sides against one another, living out their new childhood motto, “Every Smith for Himself”. I must have died and gone to live with the Willy Wonka rejects-the absolute brattiest kids on earth.

But as the wind warmed and the sun emerged, one thought gave me a glimmer of hope: Send those boys outside. So I did. But just as I began to feel the peaceful calm for which I had so desperately been longing…that is when the real storm rolled in.

As I sat in the living room folding yet another load of dingy socks, I heard the back door open. I met the oldest as he walked in, shoes in hand. He sat down on the floor and asked me to put his shoes back on his feet, but as he did, a strange aroma wafted into my air space. Something must have given him a little nudge, because the look on his face and the words he then spoke were not ones that were easily said nor received. He looked at me with those big round eyes and said, “Uh, Mommy, I, uh, I…I had an accident.”

The next words I spoke were more ignorant than informative when, from somewhere outside my body I heard myself say, “An accident? In your pants!?!” Like there is any other kind.

For the next half hour, I was in a world of disbelief as I put one boy in the shower, only to see the other one trotting in the house soon after with the same, sly little grin. “What, you too?!!!” was all I could manage to say. And after cleaning and dressing them both yet again, the little one just couldn’t resist. “Hey, Mom! Wanna see where I pooped outside?”

I only remember random moments of time after that. Brisco was proud of the fact that he’d managed to squeeze between two buildings outside. He was also more than happy to show me where Cooper had unloaded, and demonstrate how he’d wiped his bottom on the side of the dog house. Cooper, on the other hand, had sense enough to hide.

As I sat dumbfounded at the ridiculousness of the scenario I was facing, I had not a single coherent thought in my mind but one: Call Randy. I decided a short email would suffice, and this is precisely how it read.
Attn: Mr. Smith: “Your sons just pooped outside and all over themselves. Do you mind if I kill them?” His response, so simple, yet so perfectly astute: “Cold water hose.” Now why didn’t I think of that?

The remainder of the week was filled with a variety of incidents from pulling Cooper out of the water meter in the front yard to picking acoustic out of their bed at night. We had science lessons on why one should not pick every green leaf and flower off the probably now-dead bush outside and lectures on relieving one’s self in public. We even had a real-life example of why Mommy says only one vitamin C per child per day.

We took belts to ball games and belts to church. We prayed for wisdom and self control, morning, noon and night. We perfected the disciplinary arts of time out, privilege restriction and going to bed early. And just about the time I thought we had things straightened out, I entered the bathroom Sunday night and discovered that Brisco had dumped the entire contents of every bottle he could reach straight into their bath water. I could barely see my children through the giant mound of bubbles.

It was truly one of those moments where I just had to get away. And as I stood outside the bathroom door trying to gather myself to re-enter, I listened to Cooper scolding his brother and preparing him for what lay ahead. “I can’t believe you dumped every bottle,” he said. “Mommy is really going to spank you this time.” And the little bubble-head simply replied, “Oh, Man!”

I couldn’t help but give up a little smile. It was the first time in seven whole days that my kids sounded normal.

I’m hoping against all odds that the week to come is less eventful than the last. I still haven’t quite figured out why these kids lose their minds after being away from home. But at our house, at least, it’s a fact: There’s just something about an overnighter that seems to do the trick.

And that’s All in a day’s work!