When you're the only woman in a sea of testosterone, life can get messy. And funny!
I'm a proud boymom. Before I even began dating my husband, I got a little boy dog, a Morkie. Before I got him, I knew what his name would be and what breed he'd be, and had dog tags made. I grew up with female dogs, but knew I wanted a little boy dog. And when I found out I was pregnant, years later, I knew immediately that the baby inside me was a boy. And when I was pregnant with Otto, I knew he was a boy too. In fact, I bet my husband $1,000 that it was a boy - he was convinced Otto was a girl. Before the ultrasound tech even announced it, I saw the "boy parts" on the screen in the room and said, "Ha!! I KNEW IT!"
I love my boys. All of them. But life with all boys can be a complete trip, too.
For instance, life with all boys involves a lot of food. Otto, who's just 15 months old, can eat more at any given meal than I can. My kids are toddlers, but I have to buy multiple loaves of bread and the 18 count of eggs per week at the grocery store. When we go on play dates, I bring an entire BAG dedicated to food. I don't know what's going to happen when they're teenagers... Maybe I should start a savings account for that now?
With all that food comes a lot of poop. My goodness. I'll spare you the deets because who wants to read about that, but holy cow. They poop in tandem. They tag team poop. And as soon as I've changed all the diapers, the damn dog has to go outside and poop. I mean give me a break already.
Bath time is a hoot. These kids LOVE bath time! They love being naked. They help me get the water ready and then they splash so hard I have a whole towel dedicated to wiping up the misplaced bath water. They'd probably spend over an hour in that tub if I let them, or if they wouldn't splash all of their bathwater out of the tub first. Otis, my four legged boy, hangs off in the corner of the bathroom, as he's not as fond of water as the kids are. But we're all in there together.
Getting them dressed afterwards is an athletic feat on my part. These boys are wiggly and squiggly and wont even be still long enough to put footie pajamas on them! Or they'd just rather run around naked so they can grab their boys parts as they want to, I don't know. But after the bath and getting them dressed, I've usually worked up a sweat.
Speaking of, when you live life with all boys, you just resign that you'll ever sit down again. Many days, from the hours of 6am to 7pm, some of the longest stretches of me sitting down is when I drive the car! If we're not outside playing with the swing or a bocce ball set, we're going to the park and I'm pushing 110 pounds of stroller and toddler up and down the big hills in my neighborhood. If we're not playing, I'm making them something to eat. If we're not eating, I'm cleaning up the mess from their meal. If I'm not cleaning, I'm playing referee with their roughhousing. How do they already like to roughhouse? Ughhhh, and they'll do it for HOURS on end.
It's an active life, but they show their mama love with as much passion as they attack food, play and each other. I'll be at my wits end with Henry bopping Otto over the head and all of a sudden Henry will hug my leg, look up at me and say, "I love you mommy!" Completely out of the blue. Otto will drop a toy on my bare toe for the fifth time and Henry will bend down to kiss my "owie", and Otto will do the same to be like his big brother. Otto will lean in and snuggle my nose and then lean back and laugh with vigor over absolutely nothing. And that kid has the BEST laugh.
Life with all boys is grueling, overly active, full of poop and genital grabbing. I spend a lot of my day breaking up fights over the favorite fire truck, catching balls before they hit someone in the face, or pushing fingers out of the way of tricycle wheels. But I also get kisses and hugs and thank you's and laughs. Life with all boys is nuts; the best kind of nuts.