Truths From A Boy Mom

Boy Mom

I’m a boy mom.  The only estrogen in this house comes from the dog and I.  I’m OK with this because she and I don’t always see eye to eye.  I couldn’t imagine living with another woman.  So yes I’m perfectly fine being the only queen in this castle.  It definitely comes with some perks, but I must say it’s interesting being outnumbered. And by interesting I mean some days I want to pull my hair out, run away to the spa, and never look back.  But since I have daycare to pay for and three men depending on me I’ve had to accept my fate and learn to make the best of it.

Here is what I’ve learned to live with.

Farts are funny.  I mean I knew this, but I didn’t understand that it was hilarious down to their core. Literally, the only thing that makes my oh so serious baby laugh, is big brothers fake fart noises.  NOTHING else has gotten such a big belly laugh out of the little guy, and I’m pretty hilarious.

The toilet seat is always covered in pee.  I don’t even bat an eye when I sit down and realize my ass is wet anymore.  At least I know most of it hit the toilet.  I don’t even want to talk about my floors and walls surrounding the toilet, or that one time he decided to just pee straight into the trash can.

Soo Much Pokemon.  I remember when Pokemon was cool back when I was young and thought it was neat when he came home with a few collectors cards.  Now, this stuff has taken over my house.  There are cards everywhere, he has tons and yet the grandparents continue to gift him more.  Pokemon has taken over my tv and our nice conversations are now filled with random facts about Dedenne’s XP and Squirtles energy. I’m not going to lie my kid was still borderline sick when I sent him to school because I couldn’t take listening to one more Pokemon XY episode.  Remind me to cancel our Netflix subscription.

I swear they are vainer than girls.  He must look cool! Cool clothes, shoes have to have the F on them.  Hair must be gelled, and oh mom you can’t kiss me in the drop off line, someone may see through our tinted windows! When did seven-year-olds start worrying about their looks?

The phrases I say on a regular basis.  Boys, settle down!  Why don’t you have underwear on?  Where did your pants go?  Keep your hands out of your pants.  Please don’t fart on your brother.  Did you pee on this?  Why is there poop on the wall? Don’t eat your boogers.  Don’t wipe your hands on the couch. Please don’t lick the dog.  I could continue..

And everything is always dirty and sticky.  I mean I clean.  Constantly.  And yet there is an apple core on the desk, and sand on the bathroom floor (no idea how, it’s the dead of winter here) and despite my best scrubbing, the bathrooms always give off a faint scent of urine.  As long as the laundry and dishes are kept caught up I just turn on the wax warmer put in a tropical scent, close my eyes, and pretend I’m back at a Costa Rican resort.

And that brings us to…

They can sense when you relax.  Maybe this is just a mom thing but I swear the moment I get all my chores done, the house calm, and a nice cup of tea made, a crisis always appears.  Someone’s got a bloody nose, someone can’t find something, super glued their hand to something, someone is going to starve to death or has a stomach ache.  The list goes on.

And yet…

They can be the sweetest creatures ever.

The way they turn into cuddle bugs the moment they’re not feeling well and only I can make them feel better.

The way they giggle and entertain themselves for hours with farts, darts, and Captain Underpants.

Walking into a room and seeing the oldest reading books to his baby brother, and then telling me about all the things he is going to teach him.

And best of all..

The way the three of them can sense they’ve driven me mad and finally let me have that cup of tea and a nice bath uninterrupted.

I wouldn’t trade being a boy mom for the world.

 

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