It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood....

After quite awhile of 95+ degree heat, we've now gotten a respite with low 80s for a few days, reminding us that fall is not far off. My husband and I have been enjoying sitting on the deck in the evenings watching the children play. Our home area is very peaceful and we always comment on how much we enjoy that.

My oldest son, Sullen, is living up to his nickname (Don't worry-I don't call him that in real life. Just on the blog). After arriving home from our vacation, my husband borrowed the neighbor's riding mower to get our jungle yard under control. However, the push mow areas still needed to be done. My husband told Sullen to push mow our yard in the typical areas that require push mowing (around trees, around the club house, close to the steps, around the pool, etc.) and Sullen pitched a fit, claiming that there was no such mowing that needed to be done. So, the day after he only push mowed what he deemed necessary, rather than what his dad deemed necessary, it was pointed out to him what he missed and he was told to finish the job yesterday. Yeah, well, the hubby was at work yesterday, leaving me to enforce this assignment. Sullen still didn't think anything needed to be done, even as I was standing next to him pointing to overgrown grass areas and saying, "This here needs to be mowed, and this here needs to be mowed, and over there....." and still he fussed and fumed and acted as if his father and I were in cahoots to make his life as miserable as possible. He even tried this whiny ploy:

You know what? Do you guys just hate me or something? Because, I swear you just make this stuff up! There is NO GRASS that needs mowing. This is stupid. There is NOTHING to mow! I swear--I could push mow the Whole Entire Yard in 105 degree heat, and you two would come out here and look around for the One Blade of Grass that I missed and then say 'You missed a spot!'

Oooooooooooooohkaaaaaaaaaaaaay then.......

This from a child who generally gets to enjoy himself, has a few chores each day, almost never has to mow the grass since his MOTHER is the one who does it (and enjoys it!) even on the very hot days. This kid was asked to very nicely do trim mowing on a balmy 80 degree evening. And he wanted to be a fuss bag about it.

So, a quick call to the hubby at work, to find out if he would prefer that
A. I just let Sullen do whatever work he thinks he should do, and let The Firecrapper deal with him in the morning
or
B. Go around the yard with him, pointing out the obvious places to push mow. (you know--the ones where there is no grass to mow!)

But, alas, the Firecrapper had an alternative suggestion:
C. Tell him that now that he threw his fit and gave you a hard time, he can start push mowing the whole entire yard, and keep going until it is too dark to mow any more tonite.

Ha!

You can imagine how thrilling Sullen thought THIS was.

A-hem.

So, after much tearing up at the eyes and acting as if he was being sentenced to the gallows, he got mowing. He managed to take an absurdly long break to go to the bathroom, did the most amazing slow motion fueling of a lawn mower that I have even encountered, suddenly had urges to help siblings get off of swings and learn how to ride their Big Wheels down the hill in new, cool ways, and so forth. Then he tried to stop mowing when he thought the sun had gone down, although there was plenty of light for his sibs to be out playing, and me sitting on the deck reading my book. sigh

This morning my dear Firecrapper got home from his shift at the FD and asked me for a report. How was his attitude? Did he give you any trouble? So, I told him. And Sullen got outsted from his nice, warm bed, to return to the mowing job which of course was far from finished. (it didn't help that instead of mowing in a regular pattern of back and forth, back and forth, he would just do a patch here and a patch there)

I had to chuckle as I stood in the kitchen getting ready to make pancakes and saw Sullen, out the window, at the mower, muttering to himself about how bad his life is, and then when he was me he turned and gave me his best shot of an "I am a persecuted kid" look. It's good to start the day with a laugh, I always say.

Two hours later, the beat goes on. My yard will be all mowed by day's end, maybe Sullen will be too tired to fuss much (But I'm not counting on that), and then the hubby and I can get back to our favorite thing, which is of course plotting how to torture our son some more. Scrubbing the floors and ceilings with a toothbrush? Picking up a thousand Legos one-at-a-time with tweezers? Wax on, wax off? I don't know, but I'm sure we'll come up with something.

Other than that, I will confess to you dear readers that I broke down and got the second book in the Outlander series. It has something like 700 pages, and I am almost done with it. It isn't as good as the first, but good enough that I have still been gobbling it up every chance I get. Good thing it's a little easier to put down than the first, so that I can still keep up on housework a bit.

And, finally--what do you think about this? My youngest kiddo is almost 2.5. He still nurses, and he loves it. However, after breastfeeding for just about 13 years now, The Girls are kind of *weary* of such activities. Squiggy Magoo shows no signs of wanting to let up on his demands, and in fact has gotten a little mean in demanding his way. I have cut him back a lot, but he still asks a lot too. With me being with him most of the time, it seems tricky to successfully cut him down any more gradually. I was thinking of playing a little bit of a trick on him, and doing a little boobs-dipped-in-vinegar thing to make him decide that the old milky really isn't a good thing any more. Seems like that will make the weaning pretty abrupt, though, which I guess I feel kind of bad about. However, he has done fine when I've had to leave him for weekends when I went away for a class or trip.

So what do you think I should do?
	Give the kid a break--nurse him til he's ready to quit, you heartless, selfish woman!
	Are you *kidding* me? 13 YEARS you've been breastfeeding? Grab your breasts and RUN, woman!
	2.5 years is plenty--I would have quit long ago.
	Hmmm... vinegar-flavored breast milk....be careful--he might like it!
	Vinegar? Oh, that's terrible! Can't you think of anything *nicer*?
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