What The Hell?
Moms, do I really need to say anything else?
They really are a different breed aren’t they? I give my daughter a toy and she’s all “this is great! Show me how it works!” and I give the same toy to my son and he’s all “this is great, whatever it is and whatever it does, but what else can I do with it and more importantly, how can I take it apart?”
Boys are just… different.
Aside from all the times he wants to show me his muscles:
Or all the times he has landed himself in the ER:
He is just strange.
I mean boys were a whole new game to me. When The Girl Child was born I kinda felt like “Ok, I got this,” and then the The Boy Child came along and destroyed my parenting confidence. With The Girl Child I barely had to do anything because she was easy. Busy and hyper, but easy.
When she was born I bought some outlet safety covers mostly because it seemed like the responsible parenting thing to do and I wanted to be a responsible parent, but even then I’m not sure that I actually needed them. With The Boy Child I’m all “I wonder how I can mount the refrigerator to the wall?”
I’m not even kidding. My home is more baby-proofed now than ever. The older he gets, the more I Lock. It. Down.
No really, just try to get into any of my cabinets, or my pantry, or open the fridge, turn on the stove, slam a door, open a door, turn on the water, or turn up the water heater thermostat (that was fun. And hot.). Seriously at this point, just try to find a danger in my house. I dare you.
Because this kid, this Boy Child of mine, he has trained me well.
Several months ago he went through a phase of not wanting to go to bed. This was new to me because My Girl Child, she doesn’t get out of bed. To this day she will still call me from her bed when she wakes up.
“Can I get up mommy?”
“Yep, you can get up.”
“Yes, get up.”
“I can’t hear you mommy, can I get up?”
“Yes, yes you can get up!!!”
“FINE. I’M COMING.”
The Boy Child? That kid won’t stay in bed. He gets up and plays. So I did what any normal parent would do and I took the toys out of his room. Then him, being ever so adaptable, started changing his clothes over, and over, and over again. He would be up until 2am before he collapsed into an exhausted heap, three pairs of pants on and his head through the arm hole of a shirt.
So obviously I took all the clothes out of his room. Don’t judge me, I was sleep deprived.
So no toys, no clothes, why not take the dresser apart?
STUPID CHEAP ASS DRESSER.
A dresser that I had bolted to the wall so that it wouldn’t fall on him (because I’m responsible and that’s what responsible people do, right?), the kid TOOK. IT. APART.
Why are toddlers the loudest creatures on the planet except when they are being mischievous, in which case they are dead silent?
So naturally, in order to save his life and prevent myself from dying a sleep deprived death, I removed everything from his room except for his bed and the stuff he sleeps with.
Then between the hours of 3am when I finally felt that it was safe enough to go to sleep and 4:30am when my mommy radar finally stopped failing me, he peeled the baseboards off the wall.
With his fingers.
Sometimes I just have to sit back and ask “what the hell?” because there is really nothing else to say.
Sometimes this wakes me up:
Or this walks into a room:
Or I look in the rear view mirror to see this dude sleeping while wearing sunglasses that he had taken off his sleeping sister’s face:
Or my favorite, the time I walked into my room to find this:
I didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or start CPR.
I kid you not, he wasn’t moving a muscle. I pulled the bin off his head and without even flinching and from under a pile of my underwear, he said “mommy don’t! I playing hide and seek and I hiding under da underwears!”
(Note to self: save pictures of Boy Child hiding in his mother’s underwear for future blackmail and possible wedding slide show)
Or my favorite, the times that I don’t actually see him, I just see the evidence of him left behind:
Just like the time I put him in the bathtub with his toys, was three feet away in the adjoining bedroom folding laundry, and because I couldn’t see him and wanted to be a responsible parent, I was making him sing songs with me so that I would know he wasn’t drowning.
Unfortunately the sounds of us singing muffled the sound of him bailing ALL of the water out of the tub and onto the floor with a toy bucket.
There really is never a dull moment with this kid:
But at the end of the day,
after I’ve tucked him and all his “friends” into bed,
and sometimes even his girlfriend…
… I find myself thinking about the fact that this boy has completely stolen my heart.
My gosh do I love him.
And to my ex’s dismay, the one who didn’t even want him because he was a boy, I always knew I would.
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