• Menu
  • Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to secondary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Before Header

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella at the NAC is A Modern Classic for Every Age

Yard Sale Finds Transformed

Operation Darwin, A Pandemic Battle Plan for Sanity

Beating Back the Clutter

More Posts from this Category

Life In Pleasantville

Food, Travel, Life

  • Home
  • Travel
    • Canada
      • Ontario
      • Quebec
    • Caribbean
      • Jamaica
    • Europe
      • France
      • Holland
      • Italy
    • Mexico
    • RVing
    • Tahiti
    • United States
      • California
      • The Florida Keys
      • New York City
  • Food & Drink
  • Life
    • Divorce
    • Humour
    • Parenting
  • TV & Radio
  • Disclosure
  • Privacy
  • Contact
  • Home
  • Travel
    • Canada
      • Ontario
      • Quebec
    • Caribbean
      • Jamaica
    • Europe
      • France
      • Holland
      • Italy
    • Mexico
    • RVing
    • Tahiti
    • United States
      • California
      • The Florida Keys
      • New York City
  • Food & Drink
  • Life
    • Divorce
    • Humour
    • Parenting
  • TV & Radio

Sock it to Me; Life with Boys

life with boys

By //  by Life In Pleasantville

0 shares
  • Share
  • Tweet

boy

I have two children. They’re…well, they’re many things but the point of my post today is my son. He’s nine and has a name with letters in it and the word means something in Greek or Italian or Latin I’m not sure which but boy did we pick the right one for him. Other suitable name choices would have been “JustGiveMeFiveMinutesPLEASE,” “OhferChrist’sSake” or “IAmBeggingYouAtThisPointToGoToBed!” Anything in that family. He is a conventionally beautiful child. This is meant to trick you.  He will have you with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his full lips and he will hug you with his lean, dry arms and he will squeeze every goddamn ounce of your energy and then he will make you thank him for the honour.

Today he needed socks. He needs socks every day because for some reason he puts holes into every piece of clothing his body touches. New winter coat? BAM! Sleeves ripped in a week. Fresh shirt? KAZAM! Caught it on a chain-link fence. Clean socks, right from the dryer? PRESTO! His feet shoot laser beam points of concentrated light, firing holes into the deep pocket of the formerly snuggly toe compartment.

Why can’t he find socks today? All the laundry is done. Every single piece of his clothing not currently on his back is washed, pressed (haha; just kidding you; I “press” nothing but my luck) and are  tidily folded squares in his drawers and look like the small colourful flags on the front page of an atlas. His sock drawer right this very minute contains no less than 12 pairs of sweet-smelling boy socks. They are tiny and dwarfed next to even my lady socks. But all of these socks in his drawer are new, because as I said, he goes through socks like Charlie Sheen does girlfriends on a weekend bender.

“I don’t have any socks,” he reports methodically. I know this tone.

“You have many socks. They are all in your drawer.”

“But these are all new. I can’t wear these.”

“Then wear the ones you already have on,” I reply, pointing to his already swathed foot.

There’s a hole in the toe (OF COURSE THERE IS) but Jeni? Jeni no give a shit anymore. I keep his hair tidy, his teeth clean, his belly full of food, I provide social experiences and homework help and pleasurable outings and gifts and extra-curricular opportunities and a soft place to fall and a bosom to cry into and a lap on which to cuddle and hands to hold and I am tired. Hole-y socks no longer register on my parenting-rage meter. They don’t even move the needle past “Meh.” I. Simply. Do. Not. Give. A. Shit. If you ever see my ragged-footed son and think “What of his parents?” know this: I am a good mother but I have my limits.

But uh, oh. So does he, and these horrible, too-new socks are it.

“I can’t wear these ones because my toe pokes out too far. You threw away all the perfect holed socks and the rest in here are brand new!” So, too holey socks aren’t any good, nor are good new socks. He explains all of this in a voice normally reserved for those in the drunk tank or the alarmingly obtuse (Of which I am currently neither.) He says that “new” socks feel weird because they are too new and don’t sit right. The heel isn’t broken in and the toes are too tight and the cuff is stringy and there’s a weird thing in the bottom and…

I listen. I understand and I am sympathetic. I’m sensitive about some things and we all have our quirks, but after having one child who would wear, do, eat, say, or participate in anything I merely gestured at, it is with great surprise that I find myself – at 40 years 10 months and 20 days old – standing over a washing machine in an attempt  to “break in” a load of tiny striped sweat socks for a pint-sized oligarch.

 

 

 

Image Source: Pixabay

Share this:

  • Email
  • Tweet

Related

Filed Under: Humour, June Cleaver, Living Tagged With: humour, laundry day, parenting, parenting boys

Previous Post: « Crush and Covet: Pretty specs, pottery & bangles
Next Post: Cord Blood Donation is Easier Than You Think »

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. peady

    April 26, 2015 at 4:17 pm

    So, ummm, is his name Sockrates? The people need to know. 🙂

    Seriously though, I have my own not-so-little-anymore sock philosopher and we too have had a lot of discussions through the years about just right socks and oh-my-deity-why-are-you-trying-to-kill-me-with-discomfort not at all okay socks. It almost beat me. Death by sock. Imagine the embarrassment.

    Happily, we have found that the arch support, foot hugging, flat seamed, shaped heel, socks work well. Don’t bother looking for them, though. There are none left.

  2. kyooty

    April 26, 2015 at 6:42 pm

    You can also purchase socks for those with sensitivity. I can’t remember where though, it was a website that was on a blog.

  3. Anne

    April 27, 2015 at 11:05 am

    Ohmagaw. It’s like you have a clone of my boy at your place.

Primary Sidebar

Connect With Us Online

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

Categories

Connect with Me on Facebook

Connect with Me on Facebook

La Dolce Vita

Raspberry Scones

No-Bake Lemon Mousse Cheesecake

Chocolate Chip Cookies with Coconut Sugar

Chocolate Chip Cookies with Coconut Sugar, A New Twist on a Classic Recipe

More Posts from this Category

Footer

Now You Know

how to boost a car battery

How To Boost A Car Battery – Sisters are Doing it for Themselves

Last Tuesday there was quite a sight to behold in the parking lot of my kids’ school. There was a lot of hooting and hollering, a lady doing the moonwalk, and two others with their fists in the air and looks of …

teens in a digital age

Five Tips for Raising Teens in A Digital Age

The other night I called my mom to blow off steam. My teen girls had been pushing all my buttons, as teens do, and I needed a sounding board — someone who had been there, done that. My mother reminded me that there was …

Lyme disease prevention, ticks, summer, camping, hiking, camp, prevention, tips, insects, bug repellent, photograph

Lyme Disease Prevention During Camping Season

As Canadians and Americans send their children to camp or head out for annual camping trips, local public notices flood the airwaves — or inboxes — with warnings about all manner of insects and the diseases they …

How to Combat Summer’s Deadly Sins

  I remember that day like it was yesterday: the summer heat was over, and I traded my seasonal stretchy skirts for jeans. It soon became apparent that summery, stretchy skirts hide a multitude of pounds, because …

3 simple organization apps

The Three Top Organization Apps You Need!

I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as a super organized person, but the fact of the matter is I have four active kids, a husband, and at least half a dozen of my own projects or activities going on at all times and …

Family History Breast Cancer

One New Thing: Lower Your Risk of Breast Cancer

Ugh, breast cancer, amirite? It's sort of like a terrible sitcom in that no one can find a redeeming quality about it anywhere. But unlike Hollywood bigwigs who continue to give life to horrible television programs, you …

More Posts from this Category

  • Disclosure
  • Privacy
  • Contact
0 shares
 

Loading Comments...