Life is now a cartoon

It's 11:28 p.m., and all four of us are sitting in the living room with our respective gadgets. Steve caved under pressure and took K1 and N to town to pick out a pair of iPod shuffles, and they've been entertaining themselves ever since. I hope we remember to screen them before we send the boys back to their mothers; I'm not quite sure they'll find the South Park soundbites quite as funny as "world's coolest dad" does.

I'll tell you what ... anyone considering having children should spend a few weeks with a couple of pre-teens. We've been doing a lot of family things lately ... buying clothes, playing in the yard and (gasp!) eating dinner around the table. It's been kind of nice. But there are parts of pseudo-parenthood that aren't so nice. Like how your living room and its contents are clean and in the proper places when you go upstairs to bed, but you come downstairs the next morning only to discover that Coca-Cola cans, vanilla wafers and bits of popcorn decided to escape the pantry and throw a rave. Or when you have to remind someone for the umpteenth time to turn off a light. Or when you unexpectedly reach a snapping point and you go ballistic on a 12-year-old for saying the word f***.

That happened to me today, and I still feel really bad about it. I'm not quite sure of my role in all of this ... am I a pseudo-parent or just the girl who lives with dad? It's all very confusing.

For the most part, it's been fun. We took them to Charleston yesterday and poked through the state capitol building and all the statues on the capitol complex. (I hope they learn to love West Virginia they way Steve and I do.) And it's cool watching them get to know each other and giggle at silly things. They're both good kids but in very, very different ways. K1 is such a gentleman. He has manners, a good sense of humor, incredible intelligence ... and he's darn cute to boot. You'll never meet a more respectful kid. N is kind of his polar opposite. He's kind of awkward and unsure ... most of which can be attributed to his age. Twelve-going-on-13 is rough. He just seems so out-of-touch with the realities of life ... but he tries so hard. So hard. You can tell he really wants to grow up and become a person someone can be proud of. But damn if he isn't goofy. At lunch yesterday in Charleston, Steve and I came up with an analogy for their personalities, which can be best described by this picture: