Living With Boys

I grew up in a house of four sisters.  My father says even our dogs were always girls.  And while, with four girls in the house, there was plenty of - ummmm - disagreements, and I was the oldest and they were ALWAYS getting into my things, at least there wasn't a lot of gross stuff going on.  No blood.  No bugs.  No frogs.

Then I got married and had two girls of my own, and life continued on as I knew it.  Girls, I could do.  Girls were familiar.  Girls smelled good.  Girls liked flowers and pretty things, and they played with dolls, in the house.  They like to shop.  We got along, because I knew the same things they knew: it was good to be clean, thin, and use deodorant.

Then in my thirties, I had four boys in a row.  In eight years my life suddenly changed and became foreign.  Who were these creatures???  Why did they always want to beat each other up, even while they laughed?  Why did they think it was funny to make weird noises and smells?  Why did they like things that crept and crawled?  I didn't know what to do with these weird creatures.
But a friend gave me a book called "To Train Up A Child" written by a man who really like boys, and I finally began to understand them.  Sort of.

So now, here I am, well into the last half of my 50's.  Those first four boys are grown, but I didn't know how to leave well enough alone, and I acquired two more boys, along with two more girls.  Who smell good.  And like pretty things.  And decorate their rooms with butterflies and flowers.

Yesterday, I sat down on my couch, poor weary mommy, and thought I would relax and work on crocheting an afghan I am almost finished with.  I propped my feet up on my coffee table, and bumped something.  And when I looked, this is what I found:

See the poor critter looking at me?  His mouth was moving.  I think he was screaming "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!"
But there is NO WAY I was going to release him to hop around my living room and jump on my clothes.  Or worse, into my bed.

I soon found out THIS little guy was responsible, and that was sure no surprise:

Tommy has almost completely cleared our yard of grasshoppers, much to my chicken's dismay...
I liked it a lot  better when he was releasing butterflies all over my bedroom!!

Add to that, boys eat.  A lot.  Even little boys.  Luke is now out eating his big brothers.  Here's proof:

Now if you know him, you'd know that face is pure Luke.  Now, look in front of him.  He has a bowl of cereal, a bowl of beans, and a peanut butter and honey sandwich.  Doesn't that sound good?  And he ate every. single. bite. too!  No wonder there is no money for the electric bill.  It's all going into skinny Luke's hollow leg!

Today, I had company twice (and loved it).  Afterwards, the kids all went outside, playing with the new kittens, I thought.  I was very engrossed in reading an email because the house was quiet and calm.  I should have known better...I have wonderful selective hearing, and I tune things out just great.  That comes with being a mother of ten.  If it's not screaming bloody murder or crashing, it's probably okay to ignore it for a minute.  That's what I used to think before today.  But I learned when your three year comes up behind you saying "Hi, mommy.  Hi mommy.  Hi mommy." in a high pitched, baby talk voice, you better pay attention.  Because the next thing I knew, a HUGE, NASTY, UGLY, DIRTY FROG was in my face SO CLOSE, it actually touched my nose. (insert scream here...)

 

Yeah, the frog is outside in this picture.  Where he is banished forever.  So is the boy.  It's a dangerous thing to stick a frog against your mother's nose.  Even if she does have six sons!

So now, the boys have been bathed and dinner is almost ready.  The mother will put them to bed soon, and then curl up in her own bed.  With a book.  A girl book.

the end