Why Boys?

Why did God make me a mom of all boys? Well I'll tell you.

1. I love MMA. The bloodier the fight, the better. There's something about watching people punch each other that makes me feel better. Watching the chicks fight makes me think I missed my true calling in life.
2. I love shooting stuff. Another thing that makes me feel better.
3. I can belch with the best of them-actually much louder than my children sometimes.
4. I love baseball. And not just because my kids play. I grew up going to Angels games and always loved it. I don't find it boring at all. Watching it on TV-yes, but not being at a game. And I love to keep score. I know what's going on that way and I've got it down pretty good after doing it for like 5 or so years now.
5. I don't like camping. How does this make sense? Well, if He had given me girls, I would never have that one weekend a year when they all go camping for three days. It's a time when I can rejuvenate myself. I eat ice cream two or three times a day and have chick flick marathons and read a lot.
6. I was a tomboy growing up. Almost all of my friends were boys. I only ever had one really close girlfriend at a time, but I was always hanging out with the boys.
7. I love action movies.
8. I love beautiful cars. Someday, when I'm a rich and famous author, I will collect them.
9. Driving a race car is on my bucket list.
10. I'm not a sissy. I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I once helped my husband carry an incredibly heavy washing machine up a flight of stairs-just the two of us. I'm pretty strong for a girl and so far can still pin my 14 year old and beat him in arm wrestling. I'm sure that won't last another year, but still, for the moment, it makes me feel like a boss.
11. I like the feel of mud and I don't mind getting dirty. Mud boggin' is a serious blast.
12. Sometimes I'm a bad mom and encourage my children to hit each other. Well, not exactly, but there are times when one whines about someone hitting them and I say, "Well what do you want me to do about it? Hit him back."


I do still think boys can be disgusting at times. Case in point: tonight, Coco announced during a boxing match with Peanut that he had to go to the bathroom. Peanut asks, "One or two?" Coco announced that it was just one. But Peanut proceeded to talk about poo versus pee and how long it takes. I also do not enjoy when they tell me what it looks like. No thank you. I don't like the eating of boogers either. That's just wrong.

I do love girly things like princesses and the colors pink and purple. I collect purses (that I never end up using), scarves (that's a new one this year), and shoes. But I love having all boys. They are dramatic enough, so if I had girls, I might have to be committed. Boys tend to lose their minds from about 10-12 years old, but Bubba has come out of that and is a fairly easy teenager. And the best part of it all, I get to be the queen of the house and every single one of them treats me like I am. One of them asked once, "Why do you get to eat ice cream?" And one of the other ones said, "Because she's the queen and she can do what she wants." Enough said.

Birthday Fail-Sort Of

So today is my birthday. I really don't feel like I'm as old as the number I turned, but whatever. It is what it is. Anyway, the day started off fine. JP made me frozen waffles for breakfast, but I had gone back to bed after waking them for school because I didn't get to bed until 2 am and slept like crap. So, worst mom in the world award goes to me for saying thank you, but why don't you eat them because I'm not hungry and really just want to sleep right now. I felt like crap afterward because it was such a sweet gesture. Once I got Coco off to afternoon kindergarten, I cleaned up the living room floor and organized the kitchen counter (which ended up taking much longer than I thought it would). I finally sat down to read for awhile and then my sissy called and took me to get ice cream. After all the boys got home from school, it was time for Peanut to start his diorama on Pippi Longstocking that is due TOMORROW. We got a Lego drawer made and a Lego Pippi, but then he said he had a headache. Apparently, his teacher forced them to have a gum chewing contest for like twenty minutes. So he laid on the couch to rest for awhile. In the meantime, the nicest six year old brother in the world went upstairs to make a Lego couch for the project while Mom added some orange ribbon to create Pippi's hair. (It looks awful by the way, but when all you have is boy Legos, it's all you can do to even find a face that is somewhat smiling). By then, it was time to go drop off Bubba for summer Legion ball tryouts and then time for JP's game. I told Peanut that he could just rest in the car during the game. I get there and set up all my crap-fill my wagon with my chair, Coco's chair (that he won't end up sitting in), camera bag, snack bag, blanket bag, drinks, etc. B hands me the scorebook to set up and I help little guy find his one dollar coin in the bag so he can go buy candy at the snack shack. He finally settled on a ring pop and caramel apple sucker. I go to sit down and thirty seconds later hear him screaming like he's just been shot. He tripped on the rocks and scraped the crap out of his elbow, which is now bleeding all over, and dang it his stupid ring pop is covered in dirt. I grab some napkins and the water bottle that has a squirt top and clean as much of his arm as I can and wash off the ring pop (which he might've been more upset about). I finally sit down, ready to enter the line-ups in the book when wouldn't you know it, Captain Headache walks up to me, "Mom, I need help." The child is COVERED in vomit. Yep, he puked all over himself. All the car windows were down so I said, "Did you throw up outside?" Of course he didn't. Did he at least lean out the window and barf on the exterior part of the car? Of course he didn't. Instead, he leaned in between the two middle seats of the van and barfed the entire contents of his stomach all over the carpet, his socks, his shorts, his shirt, and his face. So, I go pack all my crap back into my wagon and into my car and drive home with all the windows down and Captain Barfs-a-lot in the front seat in nothing but his underwear. I get him in the house, tell him to shower, and proceed to bring out as much cleaning stuff as I can think of. Bubba gets a ride home from tryouts and says, "Oh Mom, worst birthday present ever. What can I do to help?" He helped get fresh water, hose off the floormats, and get cleaners from the house. Coco went and found me a scrub brush. It was so nice to have their help. I came in the house to change and check on Peanut, but he still hadn't gotten in the shower. He was just lying on the floor in the bathroom. I cleaned Coco's elbow and Bubba gave me a giant hug and I left to watch the last hour of JP's game. Bubba called to let me know that Peanut had finally taken a shower, but was so tired after that he fell asleep on the floor wrapped in nothing but a towel. I told him to at least cover him with a blanket. After the game (which by the way it started pouring rain when I got there), I came home to Bubba and Coco shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!" They had cleaned the downstairs, including the toys off the stairs, and done the dishes. Plus, Bubba had made Coco mac 'n cheese, and woken up Peanut, helped him get dressed and then physically carried him up to his top bunk to bed! Best present ever! So I got the worst present ever, but also the best, so it wasn't a total fail.