What’s the point of decorating for boys?
I guess it’s a Kindergarten teacher gene still in me that makes me love decorating for holidays. Not just Christmas or Easter, but I really do have boxes of St. Patrick’s Day decorations as well as a box labeled, “Groundhog’s Day” that is full of fluffy little rodents in top hats.
Every year, I’ve pulled out the correct storage bin, or “bins” for the larger celebrations, like Mardi Gras, and lovingly adorned our house, thinking in the back of my head, “My boys will always remember our happy house and how we loved celebrating the fun times.” Well, I should have known better.
My son was in tenth grade and asked me where something was. I told him, “it’s on the sideboard, next to the Easter tree.”
To create my spectacular tree, I had carefully selected long twigs from the yard, based upon their shape and fluffy moss content, and had arranged them in a large vase and hung happy little Easter eggs, jelly beans and bunnies from the tips. Remembering the Southern rule, “a fluffy bow is the way to go” I tied pastel bows to some of the twigs and beneath the entire masterpiece, arranged framed photos of the boy’s past Easters.
“What Easter tree?” was his reply.
“The tree on the sideboard in the dining room.”
“Oh, when did you put that up?”
“About two weeks ago. We’ve had dinner in there every night since then. You didn’t notice it?”
“No.”
I was crushed. How would he ever grow up to tell his wife what an awesome mother I’d been if he didn’t ever notice how awesome I was in the first place?
All my hard work was for naught. My festivities and spectacular holiday displays were useless. Meaningless. Senseless.
A few days later, he came swinging into the house and announced, “Hey mom! I have some friends with me.” I heard a commotion and definitely some high-pitched giggles mixed in with the regular boys. Girls! Girls were in my house, and I hadn’t even checked the bathroom for cleanliness that day! I knew this day would come, and I wasn’t ready. If he had warned me ahead of time, not only would I have cleaned, but I would have also made tiny triangle sandwiches. Girls love those. I would have made . . . click HERE to finish the story at AL.com
So true, the differences between the girls and boys. My daughter notices it all; my son notices none of it unless it is in the way of something he wanted to get.
Well, actually, my youngest son used to notice it all, then he got older and is fading away into oblivion with the rest of them. At least I had attention for a while!
Yes, sounds about right! I think sometimes dons notice but wouldn’t dare ash anything. You’ll get those DIL’s an it’s wonderful!
I should never leave comments with my phone. Sorry about the typos!
Oh . . . I thought you were just day drinking again! Hahaha!
Many of us reply and our type looks our age
Fat fingering
It’s the autocorrect! I’m sure it’s ruined many a good relationship, but here, it’s just fun!
So funny! I hope you get those wonderful DILs you want once of these days. I think the only problem may be that they will feel they can’t live up to perfection because you do everything so well!
Ha. It will keep them on their toes! — But really now, I’ve decided I’ll adore anyone who is clever enough to love my sons!
Oh such fun times with boys! They really do notice more than they will tell you! The DIL’s will love your creativity!
From your lips to God’s ears!
Oh Leslie Anne, once again you have me in stitches ? My children are pretty aware, but my husband can’t find milk in the refrigerator much less notice an Easter tree! I once had a full size witch and broom hanging on the inside of the front door which he NEVER noticed! I think he might be immune since I tend to do a lot of crazy random decorating…every now and then, he will say, hey, that’s really cute or nice or cool and I feel a burst of accomplishment like you did with the girls!! Your Easter tree-candy dish-photo display sounds absolutely fabulous and I must remember to add jelly bean lights next time!
You are my kindred soul.
I am lucky to have daughters who do notice all the pretty things. Maybe some advice on what to do with the boys who visit? I usually try to feed them well and hope that makes them feel at home.
Here’s the best advice for boys . . . don’t take it personally!