In my mother's house growing up there weren't too many rules, but one that was drilled into us was that YOU DO NOT PUT A GLASS CONTAINING LIQUID ONTO A WOOD TABLE. (In my apartment growing up that meant the "dining room" table, which was lovingly pledged to a mirror like shine. I quote "dining room" because there was no real "room" to the dining room, only the first area a person walked into when entering the apartment, two steps away from the glass (liquid safe) desk and brown striped corduroy 3 sided sectional couch that was our "living room." Also, for a while the walls were painted high gloss rust color. Rock on 1970's. ) Personally, I shudder at the thought of glass rings on a precious wooden table. It is a constant frustration to me that I seem to be the only person, adult and child alike, who seems to have grown up with this fear of sweat rings on wood hammered into her head. It is not unusual to spot me running arms outstretched towards a wooden horizontal surface faint with the idea that a glass may have sweated a ring onto some of our precious wooden table tops. The rest of you are heathens.
One glitch in the wonderful workd of owning a vacation is home is that at some point teenaged children would rather hang out at home in your boring every day home because they want to see their friends more than they want to experience your adult version of the utopia. As soon as Evan got back to utopia from camp I nagged him into inviting a couple of friends up to utopia and just as I had planned, the friends are all under the magical spell of utopia and now as soon as they leave, they find another parent to drive them back! Right now I have Evan and 4 teenaged guests sleeping in the husband's basement man cave (their preferred place to sleep during stay over, not sure why) and I couldn't be happier because the worst thing for me is when someone expresses a desire to leave the place I'd rather be than anywhere else. I am so thankful that evan's new new town friends have such great taste that they all want to be here.
Last night the kids decided to have a night swim and for a while they were all floating beneath the water trampoline singing Bohemian Rhapsody in the dark. I'm not sure there are words for how much I love these kids. I am so thankful that Evan made such nice friends in new town. Also, I am so thankful that they seem to think "classic rock" (otherwise known as, the songs of my youth) is the only acceptable musical way to go. I know all the words! I do take a perverse kind of pleasure in declaring "Awesome song!I love this song!" when Evan is listening to the radio because I want him to know that he did not discover "classic rock" and that I was there long before him.
There is the weird thing where all of the kids are trying to top each other on some kind of vulgarity/inappropriate comment scale, but I'm hoping that passes. I think they amped it up last night because a new guy joined the group and it was their way of clashing their teenaged horms and proving their manliness for while. I'm hoping. Because when you scream out four letter words on the lake in the dark when all else is quiet on the lake sound travels as if you have concert grade loud speakers on your dock, so now any neighbors within a mile of us on the lake are sure to have experienced the boy's verbal equivalent to silver back gorilla chest thumping and I am hoping all of their young visiting grandchildren were either in bed fast asleep or propped up in front of a very high volumed disney movie. Also, that they had their own personal hearing aids off for the night. I have a lot of mature neighbors.
My bliss for this summer is hearing the kids laughing while I drive the boat like a maniac trying to toss them off of the tube into the water. The sentry commented one day on how joyous of a sound it is to hear the boys so incredibly happy like that. Obviously, the sentry is a quality human being! In Evan's case, the whole tubing experience is also a wonderful sight. Typically Evan isn't the smiliest guy on the planet, but when he is holding on for dear life he wears a cheshire cat grin that can't be topped.
Josh got much braver over the winter and now he is willing to go the same shoulder dislocating (sorry to my nephew!) tubing speed as the older kids. I have a feeling this is going to be a big year of physical changes for Josh. I've been freakishly staring at memorizing his baby face in preparation for it's departure. I'll miss his teeny tiny baby nose. I hope Josh's awkward stage isn't too bad. Mostly I hope he never needs to experience the same Tiny Tim hair style that Matt sported during his early teens because I saw an old holiday card of my boys at a neighbor's house and now I know why so many men refuse to acknowledge photos of themselves as younger people. I rue the day I announced for all to hear "My kids can have any look they want as long as they don't do anything permanent like tattoos. Hair grows and clothes get replaced." I forgot that photos last a life time.