the S-word
Thursday, September 24 
There are rules in this house I have nothing to do with. One is that socks must NEVER show above the ankle, unless just home from soccer practice, like Youngest Son here with his brothers. With three boys fairly close in age, I often wash their clothes, throw them in a heap, then tell them all to find something to wear. It’s a method that mostly works, and if the clothes actually get folded with the intention of putting them in drawers, I’m always asking anyone in the room, “Umm, who does this belong to?”
And while the boys can’t share pants, boxers, socks and T-shirts are all fair game. So on any given day you might see Oldest Son walking around with boxers so tight on his skinny frame that he looks like Gandhi, or Youngest Son with boxers so droopy he looks like a small, white Snoop Dogg.
Add to this the fact that the boys get dressed at two different houses on a normal week, and you’re set for trouble. Like there’s five minutes until the bus is due and the boys figure out that somehow there are 50 pairs of socks at their dad’s, and none at our house.
Socks!
Don’t even make me say that word ever again. Perhaps one of the worst beatings in the history of our household happened over the S-word. When Shawn and I heard the sound of yelling at 7:30 a.m., then fists against flesh, then silence (how boys cry after a certain age), then more fists and yelling, we couldn’t imagine what would inspire such violence. Had Youngest Son once again pointed out that the tiny nubbins his brothers peed with were much smaller than his own rollout model? Had one of them held the other down and given him a particularly stout Beef Stew to the face?
Nope.
This over-the-top beating was over s----. We really do have plenty of those-things-that-rhyme-with-rocks. But the deal is that certain styles are highly prized over others. (For the record, current s---- fashion dictates that they do NOT show over the ankle.) So much so that they are willing to fish dirty ones out of the hamper and wear them so many days in a row that they eventually have to be peeled off their stinky feet.
It requires yelling, pounding and silence of a certain quality to actually get Shawn and I to set down a cup of coffee and break up a fight. But on this particular morning we could tell they were fighting for blood. What we found was Middle Son clasping a pair of filthy anklets over his head while Youngest Son went Hulk Hogan all over him. Wisps of Middle Son’s blonde hair hung from Youngest Son’s small fists. Both of them were red-faced and teary, rabid with anger.
“I wore those yesterday! They’re mine!” one yelled.
“I KNOW I wore them!” the other screamed back. “I remember stepping into the mud with that one.”
“You guys are fighting over WHO GETS TO WEAR A PAIR OF DIRTY S----?!” we asked, incredulous.
All of this is to say, with the start of school, laundry stress is back full swing at our house. I can feel the potential madness of scarcity building. I’m taking them all clothing shopping this week, and among other items, we are buying many, many pairs of clean socks. (Oh gosh. I said it.) The right kind of clean socks. Because apparently, a sweet pair of anklets is worth bloodshed around here.
Middle Son, Youngest Son and Oldest Son on the back steps. Brotherly love does indeed have its limits.
Reader Comments (5)
I can so relate to this post. I hate those S- word things myself. Hate them!
First let's state the obvious - your boys are all quite darling. Missing hair, dirty socks and all. I think that does warrant some attention.
Socks are the bane of our existence here too, but for much different reasons. We have the "of the moment" wash your pantyhose perfectly front loading washer that eats socks for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I swear a load that ends with at least 2 pairs of matching socks is a precious miracle. The door is currently being held shut by duct tape because we've gone digging for too many socks lately. More good reasons we should wear flip flops always!!!!
You know Kim, I have actually thought about just having them wear flip flops all the time. The boys like to argue with me about wearing shorts to school during the frigid, snowy Montana winter, so why not just go with it and give them a pair of flip flops too? Problem solved.
Good luck with the washing machine :)
a perfect cup of coffee ruined by the lack of socks. lol I once went for a whole Michigan winter without ever wearing socks. My question is if you can't see them why wear them. nice pics by the way. MTA and I were talking and reading your blog at the same time. Great sister bonding time.
My two boys will NEVER act like that........yes I know I am full of it. Cripes, they already do!
Just a helpful hint, if the stench is too great from repeated usage, your boys could always throw them in the dryer with a fabric softner. this helps keep the odors down and can even prolong the "soft" feeling a bit longer. :)