The Highschool FratHouse

After about a year in Orlando, our daughter-in-law helped my husband get a job with the school where she taught. A private school with an international boarding program. At the time, the school rented about 9 or 10 very large houses in the vicinity of the school and had live-in house parents run the day-to-day living. My husband was going to be house parent to about 13 boys from around the world, and our son and I got to tag along. The house was a three-story – we lived in the finished, walk-out basement, the main floor was master suite and living/kitchen, and the top floor was bedrooms for the boys. Plenty of room, if not insulation to buffer the noise. That was some of the funnest times we had while in Orlando. Those boys grabbed my heart and fulfilled a part of me that was empty. They were incredibly entertaining and there was always some sort of shenanigating going on.

The house, being on a beautiful lake, was an amazing perk. Afternoons sunning on the deck, morning sunrises across the lake, and evenings enjoying the breeze and ducks floating by. I soaked up every minute of living there. I felt spoiled, and knew it was a perk that wouldn’t last forever, so I sat and let it etch into my mind.
(side note: Shaquille O’Neal had a gigantic house across the lake, and would put on a huge fireworks show every July 4. I never got to see it {was always in Tallahassee} but heard it was fantastic.) (There was also a famous baseball player whose house was at the end of our neighborhood, too. His back gate was my turn-around point on my runs.)

The year that we lived in the HighSchoolFratHouse the boys kept me on my toes, and not just because they never cleaned the dryer lint filter or replaced the toilet paper roll. There were daily conversations that just about did me in. It was fun, and funny, and filled my heart. I’ll give you a sample of what I recorded at the time. Hope you enjoy it at least a fraction of what I did. The #highschoolfrathouse became a favorite life memory.

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You know the old expression, “while the cat’s away, the mice will play?” Well, seems that on occasion, when I’m in Tallahassee, there may be some extra ice cream consumption taking place in the #highschoolfrathouse. And I’m not talking about the kids.

So, week before last, I called Bobby, and M. answered the phone. ??? He and Bob were having a “discussion” about whether or not he could stay up past “lights out” and watch his favorite TV show. Bob said no, of course, because it was against house rules, and if he lets one, he has to let them all. Well, M. was having no part of that answer, so he said, “momma Sharon would let me.” Thus the answering of the phone. Sure, go ahead and throw me under the bus, why dontcha. Long story short, M. stayed up and watched his show. They came to an “agreement.” And now I’m the favorite house mom.

Forward to this week, and M. again wants to watch his show. So they come to yet another agreement. This time it went like this: “M., I’ll let you stay up and watch your show, if you promise to not tell momma Sharon that I’m eating ice cream.” Done.

When I got to Orlando, Bobby told me about their agreement, and we decided that I’d test his loyalties and try to get him to Crack. That’s when the ice cream conversation started. We eased into it, then I straight out asked him if Bob had ice cream while I was gone. M. looked me right in the eye and said, “no.” More than once.

I’m not sure if I’m proud that he upheld his end of the agreement, even unto telling a lie, or if I’m just outright stunned that he lied to my face! So the attempts to get him to crack will continue. And his reward of watching his TV show will continue, as well, I am sure. As will the ice cream eating, I am so sure.

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So, the #highschoolfrathouse ice cream saga continues. The kids got home from school, were raiding the kitchen, duh, and I walked in. I no more got one foot into the kitchen when M saw me, put down the banana he was eating, and eyeballed me like an interrogator in warfare. “Mama Sharon, how did you know that I covered for Bob?” “Well, Hello M., how was school today?” “Mama Sharon, HOW DID YOU KNOW???” It was all I could do to not crack under the pressure. And, by “crack” I mean BUST OUT LAUGHING. Kid didn’t even say Hola. I asked him what made him think I knew anything? “Because Bob showed me your text message that said he should reward me for covering for him and keeping my word.” Oooooh, that. “Well M, Bob is allergic to Blue Bell icecream and he got sick this week, so I asked him if he’d had any. He had to tell me that he did, and that’s how I knew you had covered for him.” He gave me a firm side-eye, but I think I was successful in the sale of my story. (which, for the record, is all truth. Look, just because I didn’t tell M the entire story……) so, being the good mom that I am, I quickly distracted him with the Nutella. “M, have you ever tried Nutella on banana? It’s super good!” And that is how it’s done. Score one for the adults. This time.

Had a riveting conversation with M., who is from Colombia, regarding ice cream.

Me: M. What flavor are you eating?

M.: chocolate, chocolate chip.

Me: oooo, I like that flavor. Bob likes pralines and cream, or butter pecan.

M.: My favorite is banilla.

Me: M., it’s vanilla.

M.: that’s what I said, banilla.

Me: M., it’s Vanilla, with a “V.”

M.: banilla

Me: M., how do you say “Victor?”

M.: Victor.

Me: then say “vanilla”

M.: banilla

I give up.

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I so wish I could post a picture with this little story, because without one, it just won’t be the same. But use your imagination for a moment, if you will.

We’ve got one baby that likes to dress, or shall I say undress, comfortably around the house. T-shirt and skivvies are usually what you’ll find him in, whether sitting at the table or answering the door when the Chinese food delivery guy shows up. Awkward.

Last night was no exception. He was studying at the kitchen table while a few of us were hanging out. (And as as side note, he’s not our most “petite” baby. You’ll need that tidbit of information for the mental picture part.)

I sort of noticed that he got up from the table and went upstairs, though I wasn’t really paying that much attention. But I definitely noticed when he came back down stairs.

Yall.

He was wearing a hood-to-toe dinosaur onesie.

I was somewhere between NEEDING to bust out raughing, and being so stunned by the site that I couldn’t utter a single solitary sound.

I was eventually able to muster up the inevitable question, “L. Where did you get that?” “Amazon,” he said without even looking up. I told him it was the most epic thing I had ever seen, because, well, it was. His response? “It is comfortable.”

Bob just looked at me like, “what? Haven’t you ever seen at teenager in a dinosaur onesie before?!?!” Like this is most assuredly THE most normal thing ever.

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Yall. I made a mistake. A big one.

I let M. know about the hashtag. THE hashtag.

#highschoolfrathouse

He then proceded to read EVERY entry, and grill me like an FBI interrogator. Even to the point of saying, “Do I need to quote you, MommaSharon?” “Let me quote you, MommaSharon.” “And I quote, MommaSharon.”

Now, mind you, I held my ground and didn’t crack.

Ok, so I cracked. And by cracked, I mean BUSTED OUT LAUGHING.

If only you could have heard the conversation about the “ice cream incident.” Yall, it was a classic. You could see the lightbulb beautifully illuminated over his sweet little head. The realization was hilariously bright. He had been played.

He was gracious enough, however, to tell me that my stories were hilarious, and he was awed that I could remember details and quotes, and “how do you do that?” he asked.

I told him I have a mind like a steel trap.

He gave me the side-eye.

His parting comment? “I no longer trust you, MommaSharon.” He said with a laugh……

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And speaking of T. cooking, I was standing with him at the stove intently looking at his pot of boiling food. He took the lid off and proudly described the fish tofu. Huh. There was also something else in there. I.mistakenly called it green beans, but upon further inspection came to realize it was in fact NOT green beans. It also had dark leafy tops that looked like spinach, but was in fact NOT spinach. Huh. So, naturally, I made the mistake of asking him what it was. His answer? “I don’t know.”

#howdoyounotknowwhatyourecooking?!?!

#highschoolfrathouse

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Oh, yall. These kids. T., you know, the one who eats “jerry and meu,” when he speaky the Engrish, he likes to use “airquotes.” He cooks “the soup,” at school today he didn’t make “the f.,” and this morning he told me he was going to the gym to “workout.” I know I should “help” him with this, but I just can’t make myself do it. It’s too dang funny. Every once in a while he gets it right, but most of the time the air quotes would be, shall we say, “suspicious.” #highschoolfrathouse

Sitting on the floor, putting a puzzle together with M. When out of the blue…..

M.: Tomorrow I will bribe my teachers with candy from Colombia.

Me: Why? Are you in trouble, or something?

M: No, it is an investment in my future.

Me: T., what are you getting out of that room?

T.: Menudo.

(Um, there’s no boy band back there)

Me: what?!?!?!?! (As you can imagine)

T.: I going to go get menudo.

Me: *completely perplexed*

T. then gestures as though he’s eating a bowl of soup.

Me: ooohhhh, you said, “my noodles.”

I speak Spanglish and Engrish. And when we can’t figure each other out, I use ASL. #justmakestuffup #highschoolfrathouse #neveradullmoment #smilenodyourheadandkeepgoing

You know the a/c is working upstairs when “Shirtless Joe” is wearing a jacket. #highschoolfrathouse #neveradullmoment

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It will forever be known as “the ice cream incident.”

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So, before we move on to the next adventure, there’s one more story from the #highschoolfrathouse that needs to be told. Put on your seatbelt, this one’s a doozy.

I’m a little hesitant to share it, but My Ron, and thereby all of our clients, have heard it and insist I post. Here goes nothing.

The names in this story may or may not have been changed to protect the innocent. Since you don’t know these people, you don’t know if the names are changed, or not. Have fun guessing.

So, at the #highschoolfrathouse there are adults who are responsible for the babies. We’ll call them #babydaddyBob and #mommaSharon. And there is a team of folks who keep the house running smoothly, we’ll call them #hellen, #claudia, and #Billthemaintenanceman

So, the #babydaddyBob and #mommaSharon live in the basement of the #highschoolfrathouse. It isn’t as creepy as it sounds. The basement is a “walk-out” and the entire back wall is sliding glass doors. It is a lovely view out to the lake.

One day, after the babies had gone to school, and everyone had gone to run errands, #mommaSharon was quite certain she was home alone. It was a lovely day, so she opened the drapes in the bedroom of the basement. She decided to hop in the shower and get her day going, knowing that by the time the #babydaddyBob returned, it’d be time to go grab some lunch.

Well, she showered then returned to her bedroom, again, quite certain she was HOME ALONE. Sun beaming in the undraped glass doors, she was standing with her back to them, perusing her closet for the day’s attire. At this point in the story, she probably would have you use your imagination as to her post-shower pre-attired attire, because she wouldn’t want to come right out and tell you she was in the buff. But she was in the buff.

Having chosen the day’s outfit, she turned around to lay it on the bed and OH MY HOLY EVERTHING HOLY THERE WAS A MAN IN THE BACK YARD!

He was kicking the dirt, whistling, staring into the sky and he most assuredly WAS NOT THERE WHEN SHE CAME INTO THE ROOM!

So, quick thinker she is, #mommaSharon hit the floor, crawled to the glass doors like an army ranger under barbed wire, and snatched the drapes shut. Holy mother of pearl, what just happened?!?!?!

Well, the #babydaddyBob came home, they left for lunch, and #mommaSharon got the nerve to ask a question or two. “Did we have someone coming by the house this morning?” “Yeah,” said the #babydaddyBob, “#Billthemaintenanceman was coming by.” What ever for?!?! “He had to get some stuff off the back porch and take it to the school.”

Yep. That was him.

So, #mommaSharon let it go, having been certain she was home alone, yet now certain that #Billthemaintenanceman has seen all the buff there was to see. Dios Mio.

Fast forward to late Spring, after a long winter of diverting eyes and acting like nothing happened. #mommaSharon was on baby duty because one of the babies was on house arrest. Not really, but you know, sounds more dramatic that way. One of the babies was home and couldn’t be left alone, so #mommaSharon babysat for just a bit. She was in the basement, but no worries, the doors all have a chime that can be heard round the world if a door opens.

And, that’s exactly what happened. Beep Beep Beep, someone has opened the door. Dang it.

#mommaSharon rushed up the stairs to see if the Baby was making his escape. No baby to be seen. So she rushed out the front door, no baby to be seen. So she ran through the garage to the front driveway, and HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL, there was #Billthemaintenanceman standing behind his truck door changing his shorts. #thankyouJesusforthetruckdoor

“Hey Bill, Hey, um, hey. Um, it’s all good, just thought one of the kids had escaped. It’s all good. See ya, Bill.” About Face.

Well dang.

So, there ya go. There’s no good explanation for any of it, it’s all funny as all get out ’cause you gotta laugh or cry and I’d rather laugh, and the #babydaddyBob just found out about it the same time you did, which makes it even funnier. At least to me.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our adventures at the #highschoolfrathouse. Stay tuned for more to come…….