Somehow, I've given birth to 10 adolescent boys

I've had a strange epiphany as of late. I'm a mom. I don't know how it happened, or how it could have been prevented, but all of the sudden, I'm a parent. Not to an infant either. I have magically spawned 10 adolescent and pre-adolescent boys. How many parents do you think would have survived if, instead of giving birth to an infant, they gave birth to a 12 year-old? Instead of going through diapers and bottles, they were immediately thrust into a life of teenaged angst?

So, less metiphorically, I've realized that right now, I'm the closest thing to a mom that my boys at work have. I'm the female that has the most influence over their lives. I spend the most time with them out of everyone pretty much. And that's weird. But it's kind of cool at the same time too. Most of these boys have such a hard time trusting adults at all. One boy in particular was so angry and hurt when he got to us, that he could barely have a conversation with us, much less show affection. I make it a point to go into everyone's room at night and give them a hug and say "I love you, good night," and when he first got to us, he would refuse hugs, and would barely say goodnight. But, yesterday, he had achieved a big step in his therapy, and I gave him a hug to say congratulations, and he hugged back like he meant it, and smiled at me and said "I love you." I don't know if I've ever been prouder of someone. This boy has been in and out of treatment facilities since he was 4. The fact that he's been able to break down and trust someone enough to tell them that he loves them is HUGE.

Anyways, enough of that. So, I promised a review a long time ago of the Decemberists disc that I picked up, and here, finally, it is.
Picaresque:
I'm not entirely sure how to describe this disc. It's a little bit folk, a little bit sea shanty, a little bit troubador, a little bit english punk. The lyricist for the Decemberists is freaking brilliant. That's pretty much all I can say about that. Each song sweeps you into the story he's telling, whether it's the experience of a boy who's trying to meet up to his father's desire to live his old sporting dreams vicariously through him, or the story of the sailor who seeks revenge on the man who ruined his mother. And what's totally wonderful about all of this, is that the music matches the lyrics. The sailor's story sounds exactly like a sea shanty. The Decemberists seem to have this magical quality to morph into whatever kind of band is required for the lyrics. Definately five stars on this disc. I can't find anything wrong with it. And that's saying something.

So, anyways, that's enough for today. More later.