janradder

The sun is shining, the windows are open, and the last bits of snow are nearly gone from the back yard. A Red Sox spring training game plays on the computer as I fold laundry and boys play quietly yet enthusiastically nearby. In a few minutes, we'll be heading out to the library, and then we'll return home to ride bikes and enjoy the afternoon outdoors. It's not spring yet, but damn if it doesn't feel like it's already here.

It's warm today (in the 30's) so when Arie got home from school I sent him and his brother out to play in the backyard. Unfortunately, to them "playing" meant yelling and screaming viciously at one another until I told them if I saw one more fight going on they'd have to come in.

"But Daddy!" Arie shouted. "We're having fun!"

The "fun" lasted a couple more minutes until Arie screamed at his brother that he was going to punch him hard. Then I brought Arie in and sent him up to his room (loudly complaining about the unfairness of life, the universe and fathers) and left Éiden outside where he now sits in front of the window crying because the brother who was beating on him is now inside and unable to "play."

God, I love days like this.

After weeks and weeks of trying, Éiden has finally learned how to snap his fingers! He is quite pleased with himself.

My kids can start a fight over which cartoon to watch . . . even when they both want to watch the same damn cartoon.

"Let's get in the cah," Éiden said when I picked him up from school.

"The car?" I aksed.

"No," he answered. "The cah."

When I told him that people from Boston talk like that and gave him some examples he was utterly delighted and has been since pronouncing everything he can like he's a Bostonian.

Going out for your first bike ride of the year in 92+ degree heat while towing about a hundred pounds of kids behind you.

It didn't help that my brain decided it should play Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" for the entire duration of the ride.

Or that every time I slowed or stopped pedaling, two tiny voices would shout, in chorus, "Faster!" or "Start pedaling!"

Today marks the second official day of summer vacation (excluding weekends) for Arie and Éiden. So far, for me at least, it's been hellish.

Arie has been off in his own world, vaguely wandering about doing his own thing and telling me, "Okay, just a second!" every time I ask him to do something, which, in Arie-speak, means, "I'll do it in twenty minutes when I'm done with whatever I'm futzing around with, that is if I actually remember."

Éiden, on the other hand, has been doing his best to annoy the fuck out of everyone in the house. When he hasn't been wandering around making every conceivable noise he can with his mouth (popping, smacking, squirting, buzzing -- seriously, he's worse than the dog), he's been literally poking his brother with his finger. Or licking his arm. Or trying to shove dog hair in his mouth. Or spitting on his head. Or knocking over whatever Arie has been playing with.

Every twenty seconds I've heard the cry, "Daaaaaddddyyyy! Édien is . . . (fill in the blank)," or I've been repeating myself until I'm ready to explode.

So this afternoon, on the way to swimming lessons, I told the boys that if we kept this up -- the boys doing their best to aggravate each other and me, and me doing my best to spend as much time yelling at them as possible, this was going to be one miserable summer. Instead, I said to them, let's try to be nicer to each other. And after swimming, I put that to practice, joking around as we raced from the Y to the car through the rain that it was raining babies and dogs, trying to get bean burritos out of the ATM, and acting general dumb and silly, and at least for this evening, it worked. We'll see about tomorrow, but I am right about things needing to change, because already, this has been about as close to hellish as I can take.

Arie and Éiden are engaged in an epic light saber battle in the living room.

Arie: I killed you!

Éiden: No! Say, "Ha-ha-ha!" like a bad guy first.

Arie: Ha-ha-ha! I killed you! Ha-ha-ha!

Éiden: Okay -- now it's my turn to kill you . . . Ahh -- I killed you!

Arie: Urgghhhhhh . . .

Éiden: Now let me help you die!

This year, Arie had one of the most amazing teachers I've ever met. As most people who read my blog probably know, Arie can be a very difficult and challenging child. But he's also bright, funny, very good-hearted and kind, and incredibly inquisitive. His teacher this year, seemed to see only the good stuff in him. "If I had a classroom of kids just like Arie, I'd be thrilled," she said on more than one occasion. There are so many things she did to not only challenge Arie academically, but also to make him feel special, and like he was just as much a part of the class as everyone else.

Years from now, I hope Arie looks back on his first grade teacher and realizes that she was one of the best, because haddayr and I certainly realize it now. I'm so glad that our son was in her class, and I don't think I've ever felt so sad about the end of a school year before.

What is it about my kids that getting them to wipe their own butts is so freakin' difficult?