Last weekend I found myself at Children's hospital in the ER and unfortunately, this was not my first rodeo. As a mom of 2 wild boys, I've come to accept I will probably end up in the ER more frequently than I would like. I've also come to realize that no matter how I try to tame the beasts, boys truly will be boys. Boy Moms - I know you feel me. If you aren't a mother of a boy then let me give you the 101 on living with little boys.
Little boys think burps and farts are funny.
Not just funny; hilarious. My 17 month old cracks up anytime he hears a fart or burp. He can hear them from a mile away. How does he even know what a fart is? That little stinker won't say "mama" but he knows what a fart is!? He will try to push out a fart until his face turns red just to make his brother laugh. My 3 year old? Same thing. He walks around rubbing his butt on you, then says "toot" and will die laughing about it. It does not matter how many times I say "that's not funny" or "I don't like that word, it's not polite" those two turds still walk around burping and farting like it's their business. Kam once tried to toot so hard he actually sharted. I kid you not. His face was priceless. "Mom, what's that in my pants?!" "I don't know Kam, what is it?" He pulls down his pants and sure as sh#t, there was a turd. For real!? Not exactly how I envisioned motherhood. I was more picturing tea parties and spa days with princesses, not turd dropping fart machines!
Ain't no mountain high enough - boys are fearless.
Seriously, no one told me that boys literally climb the walls. It's like they see everything as a challenge. If I could read their minds I'm sure they'd be saying something like "I bet I could climb that mountain over there" My oldest climbed out of his crib at 20 months... 20 freaking months! Oh, and he broke his arm doing it. Hence my first trip to the ER. Have you ever seen a 20 month old with a cast? Well, here you go.
It makes you feel like a real a$shole parent when you take them out in public. The looks, stares and questions are enough to make your skin crawl until you see another boy mom, then you just connect eyes and give that 'I feel ya' look. We had to transition Kam to a big boy bed right away because even with a cast on his little arm, he was still trying to climb out of the crib. It didn't slow him down one bit. He was hanging off the monkey bars cast and all. A few months later, Kam busted his front tooth in a freak accident by falling into Max's baby swing. No big deal though, because he will get another one.... IN FIVE YEARS!!! Sigh.
My second kid is even worse. He watches everything his brother does and thinks he can do it better. Max was jumping off the couch as soon as he could walk. He can scale a bar stool to climb on top of our hip-high kitchen table in 2.2 seconds. Max started going head first down the tallest slide at the park at 12 months. He can even ride his brother's scooter. Have you ever seen a 17 month old ride a scooter? It's wild... like circus show crazy. I also have to admit, it's pretty damn cute.
The point is, boys are born without fear, at least mine were. My friends who have little girls are so careful and cautious. They delicately step off the curb carefully holding their mommy's hands while my boys are launching off the sidewalk into on coming traffic. Lord help me.
Little boys have no manners, I mean NO manners.
When Kam walks into the house he kicks his shoes off, flinging them against the wall as hard as he can. Then he leaves them where they land and plops his butt down on the couch. His little friend Mila carefully unbuckles her shoes and neatly places them in their proper spot by our front door. When my boys eat, their food ends up on the ceiling. Miss Mila, is prim and proper. She uses her fork and spoon like a normal person. If by some chance she spills on her clothes, she freaks out. If my boys don't spill on themselves at a meal, it's a freaking miracle! I used to totally judge those parents at the stores who's kids were a hot mess with crusty shirts and chocolate on their faces. Now I am one of those moms who unapologetically takes her crusty faced kid in public because you know what, no matter how many times I wipe their faces off as soon as I turn around, there is sh#t on it again. So guess what, I give up. Judge away. The other day I caught Kam picking his nose on the couch. I told him to stop and I would get a Kleenex. By the time I got back to the couch with a tissue Kam told me he didn't need a tissue any more. I asked here where the booger was. He simply said "I don't know but I didn't fling it, Mom" Disgusting.
Boys will pee anywhere. I mean anywhere. I've watched Kam whip it out on the tree at a park, drop his pants and pee into a wave at the beach, and even pee on my bushes outside our front door. I mean the house is RIGHT THERE. You literally have to walk 10 more feet and you can pee in a toilet like a normal person.
My boys have also taught me a thing or two along the way. I now know that mouths and ears bleed the most. Bruce Banner, Tony Stark and Peter Parker are no longer strangers but regular topics of our dinner conversation. I've had to create a mnemonic device to remember the teenage mutant ninja turtles by color. Oroku Saki is Shredder's real name. I've never seen a Star Wars movie but I can have a light saber fight with the best of them. I now know the difference between a loader, a dozer and a backhoe and that Monster Jam is really THE JAM. We took the boys to their first Monster truck rally last month and it was literally one of the best nights we've ever had as a family. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be whooping it up over some big, loud trucks jumping over large piles of dirt, but let me tell you something... it was RAD and so are little boys.
The bottom line is, I'm trying people, I really am. I believe all little boys should grow up to be gentlemen. I still have hope that someday they will. They certainly have their moments. Like when I walk down the stairs before work and Kam looks up at me and says "Mommy you look pretty, is that a new dress?" or the moments when Max looks up at me with mac n cheese on his face and wants to give me a big sloppy kiss. It's those moments that melt my heart, and give me hope. Hope that they won't always be fart obsessed little boys.
