Oh yeah, the X-Games are here and Aspen is hopping with stretch limos and masses of dudes and dudettes walking around town with to go cups in their hands.

When people ask me if we are going to go to the X-Games I wonder what family with boys doesn’t go to watch these incredible athletes perform death-defying tricks.

We drove to the Snowmass intercept lot and were amazed to see how organized everything was as they herded the 30,000 + people into the lot to take the bus up to the venue.

The boys were dressed as if we were heading to the North Pole. The only thing I forgot were the ear plugs to mute the language of the teens who were never told to curtail their vulgarity when innocent children stood nearby.

We held on for dear life as we propelled forward to Buttermilk, a mountain which under normal circumstances is as gentle as it sounds.

It is true that as we locals raise our children in a place where extreme is the norm, we both revere and loathe hosting the X-games in Aspen as it only helps to fuel the minds of our children with delusional aspirations of achieving the insane.

As we walked through the crowd to watch the big air competition I noticed a young man dressed in a bright green lycra suit who couldn’t process, in his hallucinogenic state of mind, that the steps he had just climbed had ended.  I steered the boys away as he kept climbing to a place that I hope my children never attempt to reach.

The boys had a blast racing around grabbing swag and getting a super cool poster of their names written in graffiti from some of the masters who had become famous from their shaky past lives of obscurity.

The Big Air Competition was too surreal for me as I watched Bobbie Brown fly through the air performing his miraculous  Switch Double Pits To Misty 1260 thinking that these athletes are better to watch than superman as they perform their double corks, whiskey flips and rodeo tricks.

I am certain that every contender flies in their sleep, reaching greater heights as they perfect their tricks while creating names like Big Air Jon Olsson’s Switch Hexelfoot 900 and  I feel reassured that Wade and I made the right decision to stave off one more year of freestyle skiing for our boys.

Brevitt put on his favorite song of the week, Let it Rock by Kevin Rudolph, and we bustled about the kitchen cleaning it up  before bedtime. Suddenly he breathlessly pointed out the window at a young buck standing outside looking in at us.

“He’s so close. His face is almost smashed against the window”, Brevitt said. I told Brevitt of a couple who said that when they play Van Halen all the deer come round the house to peer into the windows. The buck looked like he was about the same maturity level as Brevitt, in buck years with two points on his antlers.

“I think he wants to hang out with you and listen to your music”, I said and continued to say, “If he goes anywhere near my tulip garden in the spring we will be having Venison stew for dinner.”

After all of the excitement the boys and I gargled our salt water over the sink and went upstairs to begin the bed routine. After finally getting everybody to sleep I went downstairs to pump my body up with whole garlic cloves and a good dose of Kick-Ass Immunity Activator by WishGarden to fight off this cold I have. Suddenly by my side was Brevitt taking his vitamins and following me around the kitchen.

“Brevitt. My love. What are you doing out of bed?” I inquired.

Brevit looked up at me with that smile that melts my heart every time and said, “Mommy, the oldest kid should be able to stay up an hour later than the other kids. It’s my right.”

“Well, I just read an article stating that many older male siblings convince their parents that they should go to sleep later than the others and the fact is that they are the ones who need their sleep the most. So off to bed with you.”

“But mommy, I can’t sleep because of the full moon.”

“Don’t use my line”, I told him. “There is a time when all the boy energy needs to go to rest so that I can have time to regroup.”

And so, I ended up taking him to bed and verbally walking him through our calming process.

“You are on a horse slowly walking through a beautiful safe forest, with your cousins.”

“Mommy I don’t like horses and I’d rather be somewhere more fun with my cousins.”

“You are in a safe dark tunnel…”

“Mommy, that’s boring. Make it a cave.”

“Ok, you are in a *(&# cave and your head is getting very heavy. Let it relax into the pillow.”

“Wait, can you start over, I have to itch my butt.”

“Are you done yet Brevitt?”

“No, not yet. Okay, I don’t know why my butt was itching me but I think I’m better. Can you start from the beginning?”

“Stop milking it Brevitt and go to sleep.”

By the time I was finished we were both fast asleep.

I need help here. What do you do to calm your Tween down for sleep?

BREVITT AT TEN AND AT THREE

AXEL AT EIGHT AND AT THREE

TUCKER AT FIVE AND AT ONE

I got a call from my neighbor the other day asking me what my mode of operation was with my boys to dispel their frenetic energy when they were home. We commiserated about how the energy of our boys has escalated with the cold weather and how also with the cold weather has come their reluctance to go outside, leaving us with pent up craziness on all fronts.

Even when eating at the kitchen counter they are unable to stop moving. Usually Tucker begins the humming as he happily eats and the other two unconsciously join in. I marvel at how unaware they are of it, the noise, the hum, the fidgeting.

As Brevitt stood next to me writing out a menu for a special dinner we were having I soaked up his gracefully tall, slim body which has not yet hit that awkward stage. Memories of him as an expressive, funny, curly headed, naked toddler flashed before me.

His face is becoming more like an adults but his eyes still have the inquisitive, innocent expression from his baby days and every smile and every gesture of love that emanates from his body still warms my soul.

He towers over his brothers often flying off of a piece of furniture to “torture” them wrestling them to the ground with his sixty eight pounds of sinewy muscle.

I am waiting for Axel’s big growth spurt but for now he is still little and quietly thoughtful. The other day he commented at the breakfast table, “there’s something wrong with this life”. I wasn’t surprised by this philosophical statement and looked over to hear the rest of his pontification. There he was standing next to a box of Life cereal and was merely commenting on the taste.

I think that I have ruined him lately with my inability to cope with all of their noise and mess. “Yes, mommy”, he replies when I ask him to do something. I don’t want him to tread lightly around me with the fear that their boyish ways will stir the disturbing fire that burns within me and spark at every annoying thump or war cry. I must quench that fire.

Tucker skips around the house singing and giggling and turning all of my chores into a game. He talks incessantly which makes it difficult to slip off into my own dream world. When he demands an answer from me I tell him that sometimes I like to be quiet and go off to different worlds. He tilts his head sideways to think and replies a few seconds later with, “Mommy, are you going to ever come back to this world?”

Just when I think that I have become numb to all the noise Wade walks in the door from work yelling out, “Who let the natives out of their cages?”

I remind him that he was once a crazy, loud boy, like his sons, dancing on tables in the classroom and hiding under his sister’s bed to scare her at night. He shakes his head and laughs in complete denial.

As a mother of three boys I have no choice but to love and accept their innocence, their playfulness, their youth, their boyhood and fight back the desire to have a peaceful, harmonious home where the buzz is a little softer and the furniture remains in tact but the reality is that they are most lovable when they are peacefully asleep in their own beds.