ohbloodyhell8

In the heat of the moment this evening, oldest son decided he no longer wanted to share a room with youngest son.  He wanted some space.  I agreed.  They’ve been fighting a lot, little fights, but enough of them to have become highly annoying and distracting to whatever is the true focus.  Youngest son thought this idea was great.  His own space, some independence, and he could decide things for himself without negotiations that rival the UN.  He set right to work (at 8:30pm) in clearing off the bed in the shark room so he could set up housekeeping this very evening.

We all helped in this effort.  The dioramas from several months ago were abandoned as they were taking up a lot of space on the bed.  The shark room had become the place that the boys stuck things when they had to deal with them (because I made them) but didn’t really want to deal with them.  We threw a lot of stuff out.  It felt mighty good for the mommy to purge stuff and the motivation was there so I struck while the iron was hot.  There was no new episode of House…I had forgotten it was a two hour season finale of Alcatraz (I thought I would have gotten into that show with my love of prisons, but didn’t happen).  With no boob-tube to suck my energies, I had simply put on a channel that was in the middle of a Madonna take-over.  A good beat in the background, we got a lot done.  Fresh sheets on the shark room bed and it was time to tuck them in to separate beds.

When I walked into the dinosaur room, oldest son was sitting on his bed crying.  He was already regretting his decision made in the heat of the moment of this evening’s fight.  He did not want youngest son to see the tears and hid them at all cost.  I shooed youngest son back to “his room” and told I would be right in to tuck him in to bed.  Oldest son and I then talked about how this was a good thing.  A little space is not a bad thing.  I reminded him they could have “sleepovers” and he started to look at the positives of the quick decision.  I told him had been thinking about it for a few weeks, on and off, that maybe it was time for a break again.  He felt better.  Especially when I told him I would get another nightlight like the one he has now so he wouldn’t have to give up the fish nightlight.  Though I did point out to him that the triceratops nightlight went better with the dinosaur room and the fish one went better with the shark room.

Madonna was playing in the background the whole time and damn, how does she stay is such phenomenal shape?  I know she has trainers, possibly chefs to make her yummy, nutritious food, and the time to spend hours each day working out, but damn, she’s in her 50s and looks better now than she did in her 20s.  I really liked her look in “Ray of Light” and I really liked the song.  Many of her songs make me want to get up and dance…not all of them, but many.  “Ray of Light” is one of them.  I don’t get the British accent she uses intermittently (sometimes in a single sentence) and, maybe I’m crazy, but it seems as if the gap between her teeth changes sizes depending on her mood.  The lady can certainly dance when she wants to.

Youngest son got tucked into bed and he was happy as a clam.  He likes being king of all he surveys…all 12 x 12 feet of it.  He fell asleep with a little smile on his face.  No regret for him.  I think if Madge had been hanging with me we would have discussed the looks from her past, possibly chosen in the heat of the moment, that she regrets.  There are several I would point out.  One wasn’t an outfit so much as that time period where her arms were obscenely thin…they were toned…but so thin as to look unhealthy.  I didn’t like that look.  Everyone should have a little bit of arm flab.  So yes, as Madge works her way through her 50s, I’m glad the arm flab is back.  It’s barely noticeable, but it’s enough.

So a little bit of Madonna, a little bit of regret.  A little bit of memory lane thinking of when the boys first decided to share a bedroom.  It was four and a half years ago.  I said it was time for bed and the two of the padded down the hallway.  When I went into oldest son’s room, there they were, cuddling in bed, a wee four year old and his wee two year old brother who had just graduated to a toddler bed.  That was it.  Shared a room for the next few years, with a brief reprieve when youngest son was about four.  That was short lived, as this separation may prove to be.  Or they could be growing up just a little bit more and independence is a part of that.  But there are always sleepovers, or a shark tent in the living room.