Are We There Yet?
She's no storybook mom on the block
Lori Clinch

I was actually in a good mood the other day. My aura seemed right, my mental planets all lined up, and when I listened to the voice in my head, she seemed anything but out-of-sorts.

So when all four of my boys asked if they could invite over a lot of other boys, rather than respond with "Are you insane?" I was fine with it.

Call me whacko, but for reasons that we may never understand, a house full of happy and energetic boys didn't scare me a bit. In fact, I thought it would be a hoot to be like the mom on the block who served the Kool-Aid.

Before long, I had 13 kids in the kitchen, 12 boys in the family room and a football team on the front yard complete with referees, linebackers and walk-ons.

Meanwhile, I was at peace with the chaos.

Even as I left the laundry room with a basket full of unmated socks, I couldn't be daunted. I was happy, I was centered, and gosh darn it, these kids liked me.

I was on the third stanza of "Don't Worry, Be Happy," when a young man, whom I had never seen before, appeared in the hallway like an apparition.

"Ma'm," he said, like an anchorman who couldn't wait to share some devastating news, "a couple of your boys are fighting in your family room."

"Really?" I responded, as I wondered if I should rush to the scene.

"Is anyone crying?"

"No."

"Bleeding?"

"No."

"Does it seem to you as though it may only be a matter of time before one of them pulls a Cain and Abel?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Tell me, son, have they gone to blows?"

"Well, no."

Suddenly I couldn't help but wonder what all the fuss was about. After all, around here fighting kids are the very backbones of our existence.

"Do kids fight at your house?" I asked him curiously.

"No," he responded, as if he were insulted at the prospect.

"My brothers and I never fight."

Ain't that just something?

"Well, then," I said, as I walked away, "you'd better run and watch it, 'cuz sibling rivalry can be quite a spectator sport."

I left the area wondering many things, including: Who was this kid, how did he get here, and what sort of mother lucks out and never, not once ever, has to break up a fight?

Although it all seemed like normal activity to me, this young lad seemed appalled at the goings on in my home and was willing to track me to the ends of the earth to tell me about it.

When next he found me, I was in the office and he couldn't wait to inform me that the boys were involved in a "hold-your-breath" contest. I was standing in the mudroom behind a pile of muck when he located me to report that the boys had finally exhaled. I was in the back seat of the Suburban with the doors locked when he knocked on the windows and hollered out that one of the kids had told another one of the kids to shut up. And in my closet behind my clothes when he parted the hangers and declared, "I thought you'd like to know that one of your boys is eating ravioli and using his fingers."

When I didn't respond he added, "That isn't sanitary, you know."

I pride myself on having patience with the kids, but this little dear was pushing me over the edge. So when he found me under my bed and reported that, and I quote, "Your boys are outside and they're being really loud," I comforted myself with the knowledge that when this day was over, I would be adding something other than crme to my coffee.

Most of the time when I have a child over who tries my patience, I worry about what I'll say to the mom the next time she asks me if I can take her little cherub home for a play date. I don't think that'll be a problem with this darling little tattler though, because I can almost hear the yarn he spun for his mother when he got home.

"Mrs. Clinch cries and hums to herself."

"Mrs. Clinch has a dirty house and seems obsessed with hide-and-seek," and "Mom, did you know that Mrs. Clinch likes to beat her head against the wall?"

See if I ever try to be Kool-Aid's version of the Mom on the Block again.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.