A post about boyness.
If you're the card carrying mom of a boy and have never been, socked by a snuggle, or knocked over by a kiss, or hospitalized by a hug, your time is coming. It isn't intentional or even mean, far from it, it's just that boys do everything big, and loud including affection.
I love that my teenagers need hugs from their mom. I'd prefer that #2 didn't see picking lil' ol' me up with his hugs as extra loving, especially on Grandmas old rotting wooden deck. His legs may fit in between the 4" inch crack, mine don't. Ahh boy hugs.
Bathrooms: It's sad when you feel a little happy at glancing out the window and spying your son answering the call o' nature in the the backyard because you just cleaned the bathroom.
Boys are fit to tie: Yesterday the 3 year old neighbor boy showed me his favorite toy, a Lightning McQueen car tied to what looked like a happy meal toy with a balloon string. Boys go through phases where they twitch a little with out a rope or string in their hand. One year all #2 asked for from Santa Claus was a rope and gun.
Boys aren't fond of Sunday clothes. #7 comes home from church strips down to superhero unders in the front yard, turns on the hose and washes every fiber of stuffy church clothes off as the neighbors drive past on their way home from church. Adorable Hubby assures me that only the women are judging because all the men would like to join him.
Boys are smart. I was woken up by a fight over Lego's. #5 said #7 had a Lego guy made with Lego's that #5 claimed were his...Ummm, apparently it's possible for a boy to distinguish which Lego's in a bucket of 53 katrillion tiny Lego bits are his.
I suggested that they work together to build another guy so that both would have one. A meltdown ensued.
I sighed and sat down on the floor to try to build #5 a Lego guy. I admit to being super tired and drugged against pain from my recent hug, but seriously, could there be anything more confusing to the mom brain than a bucket of tiny Lego parts.
Fortunately my being there was enough and #5 built himself a Lego guy and left me with a pat on the head and some patronizing advice. "Uhhh Mom, it's ok, I don't need any more parts, and you should really try to get more sleep."
Boys make holes. In walls and landscaping and their heads...the doctor showed me how to use the staple gun and sent me home with a gun and three leftover staples. My mad butterfly bandage skills now have an alternative... Buwahhaha staples.
#7? Oh he's fine, three staples and a toy did the trick.
Boys are hungry!!!! Always and forever starving, snarling, hungry! Sigh! I came home from swimming with #7, #6, #5 and two friends to #4 grilling double cheeseburgers with his friend. What happened to a glass of milk and a couple cookies?
Boys are tender: Thanks to my big tough little brothers, my husband and my sons for being the caregivers after my traumatic hug. I was carried, medicated, blessed, comforted, caressed, and checked on by these amazing boys in my life.
Boys are wonderful! Mostly!