Living With Boys

Disclaimer: I have not been home a lot lately. I am swamped with nightly rehearsals for a Christmas show I’m in. (Remember it from last year?) So this means the boys are in charge. My house is not normally this out of control.

I walked into my son’s bathroom the other night to get his shoes he had haphazardly left by the bath tub and discovered pee. All over the floor. The place smelled like a port-a potty. Or a frat house.

I really didn’t have time to do anything about it at that very moment because my son and I were rushing out the door to get to one of my rehearsals for the Christmas production. After putting “scrub bathroom relentlessly” on my metal to-do list we headed out.

The next day, I wasn’t feeling well and my husband said he would deal with the bathroom. Which was so thoughtful!

And then this morning, I went into my son’s bathroom to help him get ready for school to discover that the floor was sticky and it still kind of smelled like pee.

“Why is this floor sticky?”

“Daddy cleaned it.”

“With what?”

“He squirted stuff all over it.”

“Did he wipe it up?”

“No.”

“Why won’t this water come on?”

“I don’t know. Daddy turned it off.”

“What?”

“Yeah, so I won’t waste the water.”

So now my son’s bathroom is layered in pee, covered up with “spray stuff,” and has no running water. There is also hardened toothpaste in the sink. Because it’s hard to brush your teeth with out water.

I also discovered baby powder all over the upstairs bathroom.

“Where did this powder come from?”

“Daddy used it.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Daddy’s not a baby, so that’s weird.”

I’m not even sure I even want to know the answer.

And truly, the amount of nudity I see on a daily basis from these two boys is astounding. I swear both of them do actually own clothes.

Don’t even get me started on how often I hear the word “penis.”

My husband once said, “Being married is not hard. Living together is.” That is an understatement.

Living with boys is incredibly strange.

I need some more estrogen in this house. Or at least a maid specializing in boy bathrooms.

Are you outnumbered in your house? How do you deal with it?

 

 

 

 

Being a Boy Mom

Being a boy mom is…weird.

Never in my life have I discussed penises more than I do as the mother of a boy.

Before having a boy, I never had to make myself highly interested in bugs. Or slime. Or bodily functions.

Before having a boy, I never had the life experience of cleaning up poop from toilets, floors, and walls. And the top of the toilet. And the carpet. And almost any other possible surface.

Before having a boy, I never realized just how active boys really are. I hear people say it all the time, but I think they really are wired differently than girls. Little boy brains just think differently.

So, naturally, when surprising moments of being a boy mom happen, I Tweet about it:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being a boy mom surprises and challenges me.

And it is absolutely perfect.