Tales...of Males (Ha!)

Today I present a collection of short stories, featuring anecdotes from the past several weeks. My only warning is the usual: there will be an abundance of...goofiness. (Because, you know, that's such a surprise, given the cast of characters...)

Penn State "College Tour"
Derek's godfather, who happens to be Husband's Penn State roommate from byegone days, lives close enough to that university to  attend several football games each year with his family. So, he had purchased tickets to the big Michigan rivalry game quite a while ago, but he couldn't have known that it would end up conflicting with Homecoming at his son's High School...or that the child in question would prefer the local extracurricular festivities, rather than the more far-flung gridiron event. With his wife and son remaining at home, Godfather therefore found himself in possession of 2 unexpected extra passes...and knowing that PSU was on Derek's list of potential colleges, he offered them to our family instead.

Now, when I say that Derek is considering Penn State, I should clarify that it's kind of an outlier--mainly because it's the furthest away, and thus logistically the most difficult. It's also ginormous, and situated more or less in the middle of nowhere...with the exception of the small town built around it. So I wondered what his first impression of it would be like--and whether he'd return home less enthused about the prospect of going there...or having been sucked into the rabid fandom that permeates the campus on football weekends...and therefore completely ready to pick up and move to rural Pennsylvania.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch--um, "Casa WestEnders"--his brother had a small taste of what Life Without Derek will be like...and it's an understatement to say that he did NOT enjoy it. At all. By the end of the weekend he was super-bored from not being able to pop into his sibling's room and chat, or get him to go play in the yard, or what have you. This in turn made him increasingly grumpy and miserable...until Sunday afternoon, when he finally came to me and asked, in the saddest voice, "Mom, is there anything YOU can do with me outside?" Um...I thought hard to come up with an idea....but I can't shoot a basketball very well...I don't have a baseball glove that fits me anymore...and all of our footballs are waaaayy too big for my hands. So the answer, tragically, was "No, buddy--I'm so sorry!" (However, the next time we were anywhere near a Dick's, we bought a Pee Wee football that I can actually grasp and throw...ish...so we're now prepared for just such a future...recreational emergency!)

Then when Derek got back--after a couple of days of driving a LOT and sleeping...not so much--he reported that he had, in fact, L-O-V-E-D the place. With his dad and godfather to give him a personalized tour (along with the inevitable side trip down Memory Lane)...the presence of over 100,000 maniac football supporters...and the peripheral glimpse into...ahem...frat life...and tailgating...that he got while there, he found the atmosphere to be somewhat intoxicating (pun intended...but without any alcohol involved, I assure you...). This doesn't alter the fact that getting to Penn State from where we live still takes 8 hours, and the adult chaperones were also quick to point out that these types of..."celebratory situations" happen only 7 or 8 times a year, when the football team has a home game, while the rest of the semester(s) you'll be, oh, I don't know, IN CLASS, and regular old stuff like that. Keeping all that in mind, we basically just have to wait and see if he gets accepted first...then we'll discuss it further, if necessary.

A Shortage...of Shorts
My sons have never been what you'd call...fashion forward. Their daily uniform consists of athletic shorts and t-shirts--with a sweatshirt or jacket, and very occasionally, soccer-type windpants, thrown on when necessary to combat chilly weather. In fact, Derek owned exactly one pair of nice...er...shorts to wear for "special occasions" (whatever that might mean to a 17-year old guy). That is, until he had to start using those for his sandwich-making shifts at Subway--at which point he declared "the smell of that place is never going to come out", and asked for a backup pair. (Okay, that was the relevant background--stick with me for the actual saga...)

Anyway, Riley came to me one morning before school (Yes, that would be "at the last possible minute") saying that he'd gotten a message from his soccer team captain, telling the players to "dress up", due to their match later that day. With nothing in his own closet that qualified, Riley had only one option: ask to borrow his brother's shorts. Of course Derek didn't want him taking his brand new pair, so Riley obediently donned the Subway pants...until I noticed the--apparently permanent--grease stains etched into several spots on the front of them. This meant that unfortunately Riley had to switch to the new ones after all, and promise upon pain of death--or whatever--that he'd return them in the same pristine condition in which they'd left the house for their debut...on the wrong kid.

This ultimately led us to a Kohl's excursion...in November...with our fingers collectively crossed, in hopes they still had some shorts in stock. Thank goodness we live in the South-ish, because, although they were relegated to the clearance rack, there were still some Summer pants on sale...and deeply discounted, at that. (WIN!) Granted, we had to go through a fair amount of trauma (for Mom, at least) to find anything the boys deemed acceptable. Picture if you will the wrinkled noses and disdainful tones: "I don't like that color!" "Those are too long; they look like capris." "They're too heavy and/or stiff." Ay yi yi. We finally found TWO that were A) attractive enough (yeah, that was strictly from my point of view--they boys couldn't care less); B) fit Riley well (with the addition of a belt, naturally...skinny dudes, what can I say?); and C) and passed the comfort test.

As a bonus, Derek came and found me wandering in the Women's apparel section waiting for Riley to finish the try-on process, and shocked me by asking, "Can I buy these, too?" He was holding out yet another pair of shorts that he'd evidently come across while browsing, and he explained, "I know I never ask for clothes, but I like these, and (he paused for effect) they're NINE BUCKS!" Um...absolutely, honey! I'm not even sure why you're asking, since you offered to pay for them yourself...unless you were seeking my approval...in which case, DONE! Good job, you...bargain hunter, you! (And with that, we're probably finished talking about clothing for the boys...with the obvious exception of shoes, which are a whole 'nother topic...for a looooong time. Yaaayyyy!)

More Senior Silliness
And finally, in the Adventures of the 12th Grader category, we recently received information about ordering Derek's cap and gown ensemble for graduation...which was packaged along with a whole catalogue full of additional, superfluous...ridiculous items. (Seriously, beyond the usual every-possible-piece-of-clothing-you-can-imagine, they also include tempting tidbits such as key rings, coffee mugs, photo albums, and something called a "cell phone pop socket with clip"...whatever the hell that's supposed to be. I don't even want to know, frankly...) I was paging through this--honestly both fascinated and horrified by the display--when Derek tossed out a comment about a class ring. I wasn't paying much attention, since he's never owned any...bling...much less would ever be caught dead actually wearing it, but I managed a distracted, "Oh, you're not getting one."

His mouth dropped open in comical exaggeration, and he indignantly burst out with, "WHAT? Why NOT?" I lifted my eyes away from the brochure-o'nonsense and gave him a sarcastic look, "Because that would be an utter waste of money, perhaps?" He assumed an injured expression and retorted vehemently, "But...I need to design...my championship ring!" "Wait a minute...you mean the enormous, gaudy, bejeweled rings they give to pro athletes after their team wins a title, which they never actually put on their fingers, but rather keep on their mantels to make sure guests are aware of their achievements?" He nodded vigorously, seemingly pleased that I'd caught on so quickly to his intent, "YES! One of those!"

Oh. Good. Grief. Suffice it to say that--unless he chooses to spend his own hard-earned cash on this bit of foolishness (the suggestion of which dampened his enthusiasm instantly, by the way)--he will NOT be getting a class/championship ring with his required commencement gear. In fact, I had to peruse several inserts, and diligently read down to the very...fine...print at the bottom of the pages before I located what I was seeking: the cap/gown/tassel ONLY package. (They reeeeaaaaallly don't want to make that easy for you to pick. It's almost as bad as the whole Wedding planning scam--how much money can we get sentimental parents and their impulsive offspring to shell out for memorabilia? Whoo hoo! Well, I'm onto you--so take my hundred bucks, and I'll be on my way, thankyouverymuch!)

And there you have it...the everyday escapades of living with teenage boys continue. At least they've caught up on sleep....are well-dressed (when they want to be)...and to my knowledge, haven't purchased any unauthorized, unneeded swag--jewelry or otherwise--for this week, anyway! (Memo to Self: maybe I should keep a watchful eye on their bank accounts for now, just in case...)