Throwback Thursday

One of my favorite beauty bloggers, Milabu, gave birth to a baby boy in June.

She’s been chronicling her pregnancy in addition to the beauty products she tests out and I was anxious to hear how everything went.

Thankfully, besides an unplanned c-section, all is great.

I haven’t really been captured by pregnancy stories until Milabu came along.

Mostly because that chapter of my life is done and over with.

I will not be having any more children, contrary to some family predictions.

It’s just me, my 21-year old son and my 19-year old daughter.

But watching Milabu recount her birth story took me back.

Oh, did it take me back to when I was a young mother.

There’s such a steep learning curve.

Changing diapers.

Figuring out what cry means what.

Doctors visits.

Nursing (enough said).

So much goes into becoming a new mom and every thing you learn you’re learning while being severely sleep deprived.

You can imagine some internet trolls have come out of the woodwork, to criticize Milabu’s mothering.

I say to hell with all the haters.

Raising another human being is the toughest job out there and every mom out there deserves credit for taking on the huge task of bringing another life into the world.

Way to go, Milabu!

What I know as the mother of all boys

IMG_8236I have two boys. My friend has two girls. Yet another friend has two girls and two boys.  I envy mothers of girls from time to time.

For my birthday I got a card from my “sensitive” son that was addressed to “Birth Giver.”

Yeah, I scowled at that one too.

Boys are so different from girls. In many ways I appreciate their simple cause-and-effect mentality, in other ways I can’t help but pull out my hair because they’re always going Going GOING.

Here are some things I’ve learned about having boys over the years:

Grocery bills are sky high. They eat and eat and eat. My 14 year old is 6’3” tall and weighs 140 pounds. I don’t know where it all goes but we go through a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread a day. It’s OUTRAGEOUS!

Rough play is par for the course. You think it’s fighting. And it usually degenerates into fighting. Boys are just very physical. I spent a lot of my boys’ childhoods breaking up fights. It’s like watching wrestling with the ones you love the most in this world.

No shirt? No pants? No problem. Boys just inherently are more apt to go naked. Nudity doesn’t bother them.

Bathroom humor is a regular thing. Oh sure, at first you try to correct it but then you give up and *hope* your boys don’t do it around grandma and grandpa. Or you’re a failure as a parent. Whatever you do, DON’T pull any fingers!!!

The bathroom always smells. It’s just a fact. And usually there is pee on the seat. I’ve tried my hardest to get my boys to lift the seat, wipe the seat, and flush but they stubbornly refuse. I’m reminded of every single toilet I ever encountered at frat parties in Isla Vista at UCSB my freshman year in college.

EVERYTHING can be a weapon. A butter knife. A towel. Even a Lego toy when aimed properly. I’ve told my boys to “put that down!” and “stop beating your brother with the remote control!”

So there you have it. My life in a nutshell with nothing but boys to keep me company. But you know what? Those remote control wielding, superhero play acting boys will melt your heart with their hugs, kisses, and snuggles making you so thankful to be the mother of boys.

My youngest

He started out soaking his feet then decided he could take a bath in it. Yes, this is my colorful younger child. I fear he gets his nudist tendencies from my side of the family. I have only myself to blame. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

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Fergie is my competition

I know I shouldn’t be delighted over this, but I am. I can’t help it. I am a woman after all and even though it’s petty and I fully recognize that I should be above such pettiness, I’m just not… above it, that is.

I’m fully wallowing in all the pettiness of it. Because….

I’m prettier than my ex-husband’s new girlfriend. Yeah! I suspect I’m also smarter, double yeah, but that remains to be seen. I’m basing that assumption on the sole fact that she thinks my ex is a good thing. Lord only knows what she had before him. Court records indicate a restraining order.

So, of course, fists thrown at the wall by your head would be an improvement over fists thrown directly at your head.

Nevertheless, I am their mother. Just today my 12 year old told me that if he could pick his Mommy, he’d pick Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas and me. So there’s that…

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Shit management

Please excuse the COLORFUL language in this post. When I edited the words out, the shit just didn’t sound the same…

The thing about having children is there are many times in your life when you stop and think to yourself, “Oh my God! This sucks. I’ve totally effed up my life.” The years when my sons were between 1 and 3 were all like that.

You have trouble sleeping. There’s not an item of clothing in your closet that hasn’t been crapped on or vomited on, and your hair? Well, it’s lucky to see a hairbrush once a week! Macaroni and cheese from the blue box is a gourmet meal.

As parents, we try to keep this information to ourselves and not let the rest of the childless population know about it. Why? Because THEY too deserve this parenting experience.

THEY think that when they settle down and have kids their children will be different (choke!) and well-mannered (gasp!) and NEVER EVEN THINK about taking their $30 bottle of shampoo from the salon and smearing it down the hall on the persian rugs. No! Not their kids.

Well, I’m here to say yes. YES! Even their kids will grow up and do these things. They too will realize that having kids is a bit like ripping your colon out through your ear and lighting it on fire, all while trying to explain to the most UNREASONABLE miniature human being in the world that NO, they cannot feed their poopy to the dog because it’ll make the dog sick and besides, it’s just gross. You certainly don’t need to be cleaning up after two creatures with the runs!

Being a parent gives you an honorary degree in shit management. First you take care of the real shit. Then comes the “I’m smarter than you” shit followed closely by the “I’m too cool for that” shit which should not be mistaken for the “teenage angst” shit which usually occurs simulatneously with the “Too cool” shit. And please don’t forget the ongoing “Money” shit and “Sick” shit and the “Crappy ass music” shit which never really go away.

And just when you think you’re done dealing with their shit, they have their own baby and you get to sit back and watch them deal with ALL THAT SHIT.

And that shit’s funny!

This is my spawn

I caught Gavin eating his breakfast over a garbage can this morning.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to dirty a plate and I didn’t want to get crumbs in my room…” he explained.

Sounds like successful parenting to me!

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No kiss?!

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Do you remember when your children would kiss you anytime you asked? No drama, no eyeball rolling, no giving you the cheek?

Those were the good old days.

Tonight I went into my son’s room to give him a kiss and HE LITERALLY MOVED HIS LIPS TO THE OTHER SIDE OF HIS FACE!

Teenagers!

I sighed and turned to leave his room.

“I love you,” he said.