Fashion Models:
My Boy Child

"How long is our pool?" Little Billy asks loudly while sitting at the end of the pool with his feet dangling in the water.

Me - I'm sitting under the umbrella at the pool-side table, "I don't know - maybe 25 feet long" I say, eyeing my son.

"I'm gonna swim it," he jumps up excited. "I have to do a swim test for Boy Scouts - I've gotta get some practice," he begins to flex and swing his arms about his head - preparing to jump in. "We have to swim 75 feet," he hesitates. "Or ... 75 yards," he stops again. "Or ... 75 meters," he looks in my direction, "I think it's meters," he concludes, still looking at me - like I have the foggiest idea what he is talking about.

I smile.

He says, "So ... How many meters is it?" fully expecting me to know this answer. "How many meters is our pool?"

I look to my left ...

Nobody there.

I look to my right ...

Nobody there.

Nobody around - but me and ...

Little Billy.

Nobody around to help me with this answer.

NOPE - Not a soul.

I am on my own!

"Son ..." I begin. "Son ..." I reach up - put my hand in front of my face to block the sun from my eyes - I say, in a high pitched squeal, "I don't know about meters and such! I don't know!"

"I'll just swim back and forth 3 times - maybe it's feet," he dives in the pool.

"You do that," I chuckle.

On the upside ... "Where's a doggone Boy Scout with a ruler when you need one?" I mumble, as I watch my little son do a bit a flailing across the pool - water splashing everywhere.

I look to my left ...
I look to my right ...

Not a Boy Scout in site anywhere! Well ... except for the dark-headed one swimming laps in my pool - that is. The one that needs to STOP ASKING ME THESE MATH QUESTIONS I WILL NEVER KNOW THE ANSWERS TO!

Constantly --- Little Billy is asking me questions about his homework.

Constantly --- Little Billy turns to me for advise.

Constantly --- Little Billy depends on me to know the answers to his questions.

Recently, Little Billy was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

He SCREAMS, "What is here-diddy?"

"What?" I yell back.

He SCREAMS again, "What is here-diddy?"

"What?" I yell back.

He SCREAMS loudly, "What is it? What is ... here-diddy?"

"Spell it," I SCREAM back.

"H-E-R-E-D-I-T-Y," he yells out all of the letters.

"Oh."

On the upside ... Sometimes, it's a good thing that I am around - you know? A good thing that kid has me to clear some things up!

I will take my shower.

I will put on my pajamas.

I will crawl into my nice cozy bed and turn on the TV.

About the time I am completely relaxed and even on the edge of dozing off to sleep ...

HE RACES INTO MY ROOM ...

HE THROWS HIMSELF ON TO MY BED...

HE BEGINS TO BEG ...

"Please - Please - Please ... Will you rub my back?"

I often give in.

It's not that big a deal.

He really loves it.

But ...

After he takes off his shirt and I tickle and rub every inch of his scrawny back ...

He will then ...

Fling an arm across my lap ...

For it to be rubbed.

And then ...

Fling the other arm across my lap ...

For it to be rubbed.

And then ...

When the arms are done and the back is done ...

He will ...

Roll up the pant legs on his pajamas and ...

Lie sideways across my bed ...

With both skinny legs draped across my legs ...

To be rubbed.

Then ...

When the fronts of both legs are done ...

He will flip himself ...

Like a pancake ...

To have the backsides of those legs rubbed.

When his back and arms and legs have all been thoroughly tickled and massaged and rubbed ...

He will lay his head on my lap ...

And ...

I will run my fingers through his dark brown hair and over his forehead ...

Down his neck ...

Across his shoulders ...

And ...

Somehow ...

He has managed to get me right back ...

To rubbing his BACK ...

Once again.

On the upside ... When I am all rubbed out and my arms are limp and sore from massaging and tickling my boy's back and arms and legs and neck and face ... he will slither off the side of my bed like melted butter. He will generally look back over his shoulder, on his way out of my room - he will say, "Thanks, Mom," with a glazed look in his eyes and limp and relaxed limbs hanging from his scrawny body. He will have a very satisfied look on his face. He is like a buttery pancake and I am like his maple syrup. We are like an IHOP combo that the boy can not get enough of. He'll be back ... most likely tomorrow ... for the daily special.

There once was a mother.

She had herself a set of twin girls.

Five years later... she had herself a son.

Four years later ... she had a little daughter.

She had herself ... 4 more children ... than she ever saw herself having and yet ... she became a mother.

She spent many, many, many years - raising all these kids.

Sixteen years - to be exact.

Raising all these kids.

One day ... the boy child, sat upon the mother's bed.

"Why do you do all that typing? Writing stories and such? Why do you do that?" the boy child asked of his very devoted mother.

The mother looked at the boy. "I like to write. I like to come up with stories," she said, and then smiled most sweetly into her little boy's face.

The boy child jumped down off of the mother's bed, turned to walk out of her room and then looked back and said, most casually, "It would be really good if you were a real writer," he took another step. "That way you would have something to do."

And ... then he was gone.

On the upside ... If ... having been a mother for 16 years is representative of "having nothing to do" - then ... this particular mother would absolutely not be capable of taking on a profession - such as that of a honest to goodness real writer. Nope - she could never handle it!

We are starting to have that talk with Little Billy.

You know.

The talk.

The ... sex talk.

He asks questions.

We try to answer.

He hasn't asked all that many - but, a few.

It's a lot of fun.

When he was still in school, earlier in the spring, all the boys and girls saw the film.

You know.

The film.

The ... sex film.

When Little Billy got home from school, I asked, "So ... how'd it go?" referring to the film.

He knew what I was talking about and got a little giggly. He shuffled his feet. He looked at the ground. He said, "All I know," he shuffles some more, "Is ... I saw some things I wish I didn't see," he laughs.

"What do you mean?" I was very curious.

He blushes.

He sputters.

He finally says, "Just some talk about Va-J-J's," and then he runs out of the room.

On the upside ... I yell after him, "Do you want to talk about it?" He yells back, "Nope." I let it alone. Honestly - I didn't want to talk about it either. Sometimes, when he asks about that stuff - I tell him to go watch Animal Planet and call me if he has any questions (tee hee). I learned that "redneck" tactic from the boy's daddy.

Little Billy was sitting across from me at the dinner table.

He was not eating his food.

He was fiddling around - messing with his ears.

I watched.

Like watching a little monkey.

He stopped.

He picked up his fork - took a bite of chicken.

It was then that I saw ...

He had been ...

STUFFING QUARTERS IN EACH OF HIS EARS - you know - flat like, stuffed in there sideways, filling the quarter-sized cartilage area (*mom squints her eyes trying to make out the COIN DENOMINATION*) .

He sat there and ate with those quarters in his ears.

I let him.

Then ...

Into the evening, I went to his room to say good-night.

I saw he was chewing on something and so I said, "Give me the gum - and go brush your teeth," I cupped my hand under his chin for him to spit the gum into my palm.

He spit it out ...

A RED RUBBER BAND!

(*Mom shakes off the squirrely chill that slithers across her neck - eeek!*)

A few days later ...

I was in his room straightening up.

I made his bed.

I picked up the dirty clothes off the floor.

I put books back on the book shelf.

Then ...

I peeled the ...

GUM FROM THE KNOB ON HIS NIGHTSTAND AND ...

THREW IT IN THE TRASH!

On the upside ... That kid!! He's like a bored little bubble-gum-chewin'-stickin'-quarters-in-his-ears zoo monkey that has too much time on his hands! And me ... I'm like the zoo keeper just watching the spectacle from the other side of the glass and ... only entering his cage every now and then ... to spray the poop off the walls!

We are in the car driving home from Applebees on a Friday evening.

There is not much discussion going on in the car - we are all quiet and just listening to the music playing on the radio.

My husband suddenly interrupts the silence, turns to me and says, "How's the blogging going? How's the blog?"

I shake my head, indicating all is okay and then I say, "It's going alright - pretty good."

"What have you been doing lately - anything new?"

"No - not much," I snicker. "I did do that interview on TV, you know?" I look over at my husband and smile.

He smiles.

My son - sitting in the seat behind his dad - listening to our conversation, joins in on the discussion and says, "You know what I am going to do, Mom?"

I turn in my seat so I can see his sweet little face. I say, "What, Hon? What are you going to do?"

He is smiling big.

He says ...

"When I get my band," he holds his hands in front of his body like he is holding a guitar (air guitar), "When I get my band ... I'm gonna talk about you at the beginning of my shows and I'm gonna talk about you at the end of my shows," he strums on imaginary guitar strings. "I'll be famous and I'll make you famous - a famous blogger," he is so pleased with this idea - this plan.

I laughed out loud and then ...

As I gazed into his sparkly eyes ...

I could swear that I could almost see him standing on that stage ...

crowds cheering ...

lights beaming ...

music blaring ...

On the upside ... I smiled and put my fingers to my lips and ... blew my little rock star a kiss. He lowered his guitar, smiled a big rock star grin and ... blew an air kiss right back.

If dreams were wishes and wishes were dreams come true - he'd have wishes to relish and many to share with me too!

When Little Billy goes to school, he and Alexis always ride the bus.

There is entirely too much that goes on around the On The Upside household for Little Billy's mother to take the time to perform parent pick-up or parent-drop off, everyday!

NOPE! All the kids take the bus.

Little Billy's mom loves the public school bus system!!

She started sending Little Billy to school on the school bus, when he was 5 years old - Kindergarten.

She made sure he attended school everyday for 6 years - all the way through 5th grade. This is a total of approximately 190 or so days a year; 1140 days over the course of 6 years - that she has been putting him on the bus and sending him off to elementary school.

That is, with the exception of one day.

His LAST DAY of school.

The LAST DAY of elementary school.

The LAST DAY of 5th grade.

On this day, he asked to be driven to school by his dad - in the Corvette - and be dropped at the front door of the school (parent drop-off) - to mark the occasion.

His dad happily obliged.

Little Billy's mother was up early, getting herself ready to go to the ceremony at the school that morning. She was locked away in her bathroom - when her son was chauffeured away to school by his father.

Little Billy's mom managed to make it to the school just in time for the start of the ceremony.

She found a seat.

She prepared her camera.

And ... settled in with all the other anxious parents ... for the commencement to begin.

As the children began to file in - to take their seats at the front of the auditorium - IT WAS THEN THAT ... Little Billy's mother REALIZED that ... she had....... FORGOTTEN SOMETHING!

She'd had 6 years ...

1140 days ...

Many, many mornings and many, many bus rides ...

Leading up to this day.

This LAST DAY of school.

This LAST DAY of elementary.

This LAST DAY of 5th grade.

This DAY OF GRADUATION!

Why then?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why had she not prepared more properly?

Planned more thoroughly?

Why would she have ALLOWED her 11 years old son - the GRADUATE - the namesake of the On The Upside family - to step up on that stage ...

To accept his certificate and recognitions for "A Honor Roll", The Presidents Award For Educational Excellence (90 GPA or above all year long) and the Citizenship Award ...

WEARING ...

CAMO?

Not a suit and tie - like most of the other 5th grade boys.

Not nice attire like all the 5th grade girls.

Nooooooo ...

Little Billy ...

The family's namesake ...

The pride and joy boy-child of the On The Upside family ....

was ...

WEARING ...

CAMO!

CRAP!

CRAP!

CRAP!

This was all Little Billy's mom could think as she focused on her son through the viewfinder of her camera - CRAP!!

On The Upside ... Hey - Billy's Mom!! What are you going to let the boy wear when he walks across the stage for his high school GRADUATION - Surfer shorts, a muscle shirt and FLIP FLOPS? (*Little Billy's mother hangs her head in shame*)

I love talking to Little Billy.

I never know what will come out of his mouth.

Sometimes, he is very serious and sometimes he is so goofy that he makes me laugh until tears well up in my eyes and my mascara begins running down my face.

Not too long ago, I was lying in bed and he came to lay beside me.

I was watching "I Am Sam" (with Sean Penn - great movie) and Little Billy got into the movie with me.

When the movie was over - me in tears and Little Billy admitting that he got teary eyed a few times himself - we got to talking about mentally challenged children.

Little Billy said, "I think they probably make the best friends," really serious.

I agreed and explained that they are often children that are very lovable and sweet and aren't often mean because they don't have those tendencies in them. We got to talking about the boy in his class that has Downs Syndrome.

I said, "Do you take care of J, when you are at school?"

He said, "Yes ... sometimes the teacher asks me to walk him to his other class."

He then went on to say that he and J were friends, but that he was probably not J's best friend.

I asked who was J's best friend.

Laying on his back on my bed, with the pillows all propped around his head, Little Billy began his story. "Well ... there's this other kid in our class that thinks he is J's best friend," he says this a bit harshly. "He's not always that nice, though. And ... he has been missing a lot of school lately, He was out for 3 weeks straight, " he rambles off subject.

I know the boy he is talking about and ask, "Three weeks - that's a long time to be out. Why has he been out - what's the matter with him?"

Without missing a beat, Little Billy takes a deep breath and says ... "I think he has gingivitis."

*ACK!*

I tried.

I tried really, really hard.

But, I couldn't help it.

I knew this was a serious conversation.

I knew we were having a good moment - a good discussion.

I. COULD. NOT. HELP. MYSELF!!

I started laughing so hard that I began snorting and tears were flowing ... I nearly swallowed my tongue, trying to get a breath of air in between all the gagging laughter!

Little Billy giggled a bit - let me have my little laugh and then smiled sweetly and said, "Oh ... that's something that has to do with your teeth," and he pulled the pillow over his head.

On the upside ... He meant to say tonsillitis. That boy cracks me up! It sure was funny and a lot funnier story with him saying gingivitis! Oh good Lord - here I go again - *HAHAHAHAHA! Can't breathe - snort - snort*

When I was a girl ...

I loved my share of boys...

Now ...

All of my love goes to just one boy.

I will never love another as much.

Sometimes, a fight is in the air just waiting to be unleashed - let out in an avalanche of rage - in the On The Upside household.

It was one of those mornings.

Somehow, Little Billy made the huge mistake of sitting in front of Courtney and Chloe's computer.

He came running up to the kitchen with tears in his eyes, "It's not fair," he squealed, "The girls won't let me go on the computer - they think I'm the one who got the virus on their computer and so now they say I can never use it again." He was in such distress.

I immediately became - distressed.

These fights - this bickering - is enough to make me resort to all sorts of tactics to resolve matters that seem to find only fuel to escalate the problem when rational suggestions are offered.

"Ask for your own computer for your birthday," I say loudly, knowing the words from my mouth will float past the boy in front of me and downstairs to the ears of his "mean" sisters. "Ask for a laptop," I suggest and then smile.

Little Billy smiles back.

Suddenly, from the family room emerge two angry sisters, bellowing loudly their disbelief that a mother would suggest such a ridiculous idea. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" one would scream, "IF HE GETS HIS OWN LAPTOP - I'M MOVING OUT OF HERE," another one threatens. "HE'S ONLY ELEVEN YEARS OLD!" the words are spoken distinctly and spewing spit is attached at the tail-end of the sentences. They were enraged and besides themselves with anger.

They tried and tried to determine if their mother was serious or merely suggesting such an outrageous idea to make a point. They were unable to determine which.

I smiled.

Little Billy snickered and smiled.

The mother knew that the pacifying of the boy child by her suggestion was obviously provoking the two daughters to almost uncontrollable anger - but, she did not back down. The angrier they became - the more she wished a laptop for the boy. It was a test, of sorts - this little game - that THEY FAILED!

The mother shewed the girls out of the room - tiring of their loud voices and angry faces. Once gone, she turned to the boy child, pulled him toward her and whispered in his ear "You're my favorite," and he smiled real big - with a look on his face that suggested that he never doubted this fact.

Little Billy stayed near his mother in the kitchen - probably in an effort to stay clear of angry sisters. After a little while, and several conversations later, Little Billy got up to leave the room. I called him over, "By the way," I said, "You're not really my favorite," I had to set the record straight.

He giggled and then his eyes got big, "W-hat? W-hy?" he was shocked. "Well ... then who is?" he asked seriously

"Well - you know I can't have favorites," I explained, "I love all you kids the same. I was just kidding."

"You can have a favorite - sure you can," he suggested confidently.

"You're my favorite boy," I ran my hand through his hair.

"I'm your only boy," he snarled and then ... walked out of the room.

I screamed after him, "YOU'RE MY FAVORITE BOY IN THE WHOLE WORLD."

No response.

On the upside ... After Little Billy left the room, Alexis cozied up next to me,"I'm your favorite - right?" and smiled real big.

"Are you fighting with anyone?" I asked.

She answered, "No."

"Do you want to move out of this house?" I asked.

She answered, "No."

"Do you want a laptop for your birthday?" I asked.

She answered - "Can I have one?"

I answered, "NO!" and shewed her on her way.

-