An Every Day Rant

Do you ever sit down after cleaning house, look around, and think to yourself, “I’ve got it. My life is under control.”

Beware of that.  It’s one of the most dangerous things you can possibly do.

This morning I made that fatal mistake.  With the help of the boys, I cleaned the house.  By 10:00 AM, even dinner was steadily cooking in the crock pot.  I put Baby W down for his nap, finished the last few chapters of my book, and as I closed the back cover, I glanced around thinking “I’ve got it. My life is under control.”

Immediately I recognized the mistake.  It’s an open door, an invitation to chaos and madness; but in the moment of content joy, I tried to convince myself that this time was going to be different.  I was wrong.

Now it’s 1:05 PM.  Let me recount what has happened.

  1. Baby D, in a rush to leave the house to play with his friends said, “Is my lunch ready yet?” I know, that sounds innocent enough, but I heard it as a hot splash of his lunch splattered on my shirt.  I glared at him, slouched on the couch yet ready to dash out the door.  No one volunteered to set the table, or to calm Baby W.
  2. Baby W, wearing fresh underwear since his recent wet (and too short) nap, was dragging his high chair between the kitchen and the living room while yelling, “Mamma! Up!”
  3. Baby G, in his own world playing Destiny on the PS4.  I say this as if I recognized the game.  Truth is I hate video games.  He knows it so he plays them with the sound off in an attempt to ward off my negativity.  He does not, however, refrain from making frustrated comments toward the poor fellow on the TV who apparently was just shot or bombed or devoured by an alien – I have no idea what happens in the game.  There are floating bad guys that shoot lasers or something.  If you ever see PoisonIvy463, that’s me. Only it’s not me, it’s Baby G playing under the disguise of me.
  4. Lunch itself was good.
  5. Baby D ran out the door before I was even half done with my food.
  6. Baby G ran back to his alien world before I was even half done with my food.
  7. Baby W threw his food on the dog’s back.
  8. I threw the dog out the back door.

Break in list.  You must understand that while all this was happening, I didn’t actually disconnect from the virtual world.  I received Facebook notifications, text messages… asking how are you?  -how’s the potty training going? -what’s up?  Want the answers? The real answers?  I’m screaming like mad at kids for not being helpful and then scream even more when I see Baby W’s high chair is soaked.  He is soaked.  So, the answers in order are: losing my mind, God awful, and my blood pressure.

But let’s proceed with the list:

9. Baby W is throwing a potato (currently) at the cat.  Yes, you read correctly, a potato.  He found it when he was trying to squeeze past me in the laundry room as I started another washer full of toddler underwear, blankets, and now a high chair cover.

10. The dog is soaked because in the time it took to start the washer, the skies opened up and it poured.  It poured for no more than 45 seconds, but it was enough for the dog to run like he’d never seen rain before, and get soaked.

11. The food that Baby W threw on the dog’s back (a wrap) is now laying drenched in the grass being eaten by a turtle.

12. I just yelled, “No more snacks!” and now Baby W is racing toward his brother in attack mode because he knows he can’t attack me.  Casualties of war, you see.  Even the cat is trying to hide.

I know, I know.  It isn’t all that bad.  It’s a little unsettling, a little unnerving.  We look at Facebook and believe we see the realities of other people’s lives.  Moms who take the time to make personalized first day of school gifts for teachers, moms who make scrapbooks of their summers spent at the pool with smiling and visibly loving children.  I’m not even going to deny it, I’ve been guilty of plastering social media with images of a perfect house.  And maybe potatoes as toys, dreaded potty training, and kids who can’t seem to clean without being clearly instructed to do so is actually a perfect house.  Or as close to it as you get.  I just wanted to remind you of the chaos behind those pretty smiles.

baby g2 baby wbaby d boys 1


What They Really Think

This evening I read a Facebook chain post that actually caught my attention.  It asked:

“WITHOUT ANY prompting, ask your child these questions and write down EXACTLY what they say. It is a great way to find out what they really think. When you re-post put your Child’s age.”

I decided to give it a try…

Baby D – Age 8

1. What is something mom always says to you?
Stop talking.

2. What makes mom happy?
Me helping around the house

3. What makes mom sad?
Feeling sick

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
Lots of things: when I said I like turtles and she said aint nobody got time for dat.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
I don’t know…kind?

6. How old is your mom?

7. How tall is your mom?

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Cook, I think

9. What does your mom do when you’re not around?
School stuff

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Research and the other stuff you do at school

11. What is your mom really good at?
Cooking and being a good mom

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Umm, messing up

13. What does your mom do for a job?
about to be a social worker

14.What is your mom’s favorite food?

15.What makes you proud of your mom?
for being nice

16. If your mom were a character, who would she be?
wonder woman or cat woman

17. What do you and your mom do together?
we do stuff outside and in public

18. How are you and your mom the same?
we look the same

19. How are you and your mom different?
she’s a girl and i’m a boy; she has long hair and i don’t; my nose isn’t as big as hers

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
She says I love you

21. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?
Italy, but we don’t go there too often because it costs too much money.

22. How old was your Mom when you were born?
in her 20s?

Baby G – Age 11

1. What is something mom always says to you?

2. What makes mom happy?
I don’t know, being quiet. You don’t smile much for some reason.

3. What makes mom sad?
I don’t know, you never tell me.

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
She doesn’t.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
Getting hurt a lot

6. How old is your mom?

7. How tall is your mom?

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
I’m guessing reading.

9. What does your mom do when you’re not around?
I don’t know! Maybe work on school stuff?

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Writing an article.

11. What is your mom really good at?
Being a mom

12. What is your mom not very good at?

13. What does your mom do for a job?
doesn’t have a job. unemployed.

14.What is your mom’s favorite food?

15.What makes you proud of your mom?

16. If your mom were a character, who would she be?
Marge Simpson because she has to do a lot of work and she groans like her when shes frustrated.

17. What do you and your mom do together?
we sit in the same car, we live in the same house, eat the same food at the same table…

18. How are you and your mom the same?
Both smart and better yet, both good looking

19. How are you and your mom different?
She hates electronics

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
She says it.

21. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?
Golden Coral

But here is the real kicker: I am going to provide my own answers and see how well my kids really know me!

The Woman – Age 31 and strong

1. What is something you always say to the boys?
Stop it, basta, no, quit talking, get over it, dinner’s ready…

2. What makes you happy?
My boys agreeing and playing nice, puppies and kittens, back rubs, foot rubs, head rubs, neck rubs, hand rubs, leg rubs…catching the trend here?

3. What makes you sad?
The kids fighting, bills, ignorance, bills, poverty, hunger, bills…

4. How do you make your boys laugh?
I think I’m pretty funny, thank you very much.  I have some witty jokes. Knock knock…

5. What were you like as a child?
Shy when I was itty bitty, then probably bossy, a control freak, snappy…you know, like me today.

6. How old are you?
Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.

7. How tall are you?
5’3″ on a proud day 😦

8. What is your favorite thing to do?
Laying on the beach, reading, writing, taking long baths, swimming with the kids, hanging with the kids, eating (let’s be honest here), some R rated stuff…

9. What do you do when the boys are not around?
Probably that aforementioned R-rated stuff.  And clean, and read, and write (hence, now).

10. If you become famous, what will it be for?
I hope my kids nailed this one: for achieving something great in my chosen career path, or for writing something so memorable that it keeps being shared for ages!

11. What are you really good at?
Taking charge.  It’s my way or the highway, people.

12. What are you not very good at?
Following.  See question 11.

13. What do you do for a job?
According to the IRS, I am a student; but I am also a chef, chauffeur, cleaning lady, laundry person, babysitter, teacher, deviant R-rated partner (don’t be jelly).

14.What is your favorite food?
What isn’t?  I love most anything pasta, I love vegetables, and meats.Yum. And sushi.  And gyros.  And Italian pizza (the real stuff, not that DiGiorno crap). Oh and BBQ. I love me some good BBQ.  Yea. I love food.

15.What makes you proud of yourself?
My boys. I know, I know – sappy moment. But for real, I am so proud that I have never had to worry about them academically because they have always been at the top; I have never worried about them socially, because who doesn’t love my kids?  They are kind, sweet, beautiful – I mean, I did make them!

16. If you were a character, who would you be?
I am slightly disappointed my Batman-fanatic kids didn’t think of Poison Ivy because I would totally be her, just in a backwards sort of way.  I don’t actually poison anyone, but I do kill any plant that I touch (silent prayer for my big boy tomato plant growing in the backyard…)

17. What do you and your kids do together?
There isn’t much I do without them – they are always around.  A-L-W-A-Y-S. It’s ok, though – they are pretty cool cats.

18. How are you and your kids the same?
Baby G has my drive to be on top – he will always strive to be the best, because, well, that’s the gene I past on to him. He got 99% of his dad.  But that 1% is all me. 

Baby D has my kind heart.  No, no – don’t laugh at the thought of me being kind.  I might actually say the most cruel words you’ve ever heard, but I say them with the kindest intentions.  At the end of the day, though, I will flip backwards to help anyone!  Baby D once said that when he is rich, he will buy us a beautiful, huge house to live in and then he will buy another equally beautiful and large house for the homeless people to live in.  That, folks, is a kind heart. 

Baby W is a little too little to really gauge, but he seems to have my carefree spirit.  Act now, consequences later.  I feel that way about Burger King as he does about leaping off the back of the couch.  Tomat-ow Tomah-to.

19. How are you and your kids different?
Baby G is analytical and precise.  That isn’t genetic, it’s learned; learned from his detail-oriented, borderline panicky step-father. 

Baby D would spend hours glued to his video games if I let him.  It blows my mind because once I force him to disconnect, he is the most sociable and outdoorsy child I know! I do not like video games. I try to feign interest in Pokemon names, or how to run a play on Madden…

Baby W still hasn’t learned to pee in a toilet.  Thankfully, we are very different there!

20. How do you know you’re showing your boys that you love them?
I tell them, of course.  But greater than that, I do as much as I can for them.  Like, everything. 

21. Where is your favorite place to go?
Hawaii. I absolutely love it there. The smell of eternal summer.  Perfect.  But, that being said, I also love Italy, France, Germany (sometimes), the mountains – oh I love and miss the mountains! Lakes, rivers, the beach….

22. How old were you when your boys were born?
Baby G: 20

Baby D: 23

Baby W: 29

I am pretty sure that if I read this list to the boys, they would say, “Oh yeah! I knew that!”.  I wonder how well I could answer these same questions about my own kids.  Maybe it’s time to put the laptop and the books away, and play a game of “get to really know each other”!

Potty Training Like a Pro?

Have you ever seen the Love’s diapers commercial where it shows how a mom treats her first baby with the uttermost concern, but then grabs scraps for her second baby?  A non parent might interpret this as a lesser degree of love or care for a second (or third, or fourth, etc) child; but they would be wrong.  As a parent of three boys, I can tell you that the degree of love and care does not change. [Pause for potty break] What does change, however, is your level of acceptance of what you can and cannot control.

I tried, for example, to keep Baby G (child #1) constantly sanitized.  I had a pack of wipes (generic? absolutely not) in every diaper bag (yes, there was need for multiple diaper bags), in every car, bedroom, and bathroom.  Oh, you spilled some juice on your shirt?  Goodness, no – let’s change you!  Let’s discuss the outcome: I changed his clothes too many times and wiped him too often – and he couldn’t care less.  Baby G enjoyed an all too regular meal of grass, crayons, and play-dough.  He preferred moments of nudity over cute outfits.

When it came time to potty train him, I bought the coolest looking potty chair and even a mini toilet seat for the grown up potty.  I used training pants and a timer set to 15 minutes to keep our potty training on track.  Outcome review: the potty chair became one of his favorite toys, after all, it was really cool looking.  It was never peed or pooed into.  Ever. [Pause for potty break] The mini toilet seat became nothing more than a hazardous donut for the grown ups and the training pants became a burden to my washer.  Worst yet, the timer became a dreaded tool – I wasn’t achieving anything in those 15 minute spurts between often dry potty beaks.  Baby G simply did not care about becoming a big boy when it came to the bathroom realm.  I’ll admit that eventually, I kind of gave up.  I figured I would still be changing diapers when he came home for spring break his sophomore year in college  Whatever, right?  There are worst fates in the world.  Then, one day I realized I was changing dry diapers.  I stopped putting diapers on him, and he started using the toilet.  No potty chair, no training pants, no mini toilet dangerous apparatus.  I didn’t actually do anything.

Since Baby D came so shortly after Baby G – and just seconds before the whole instant self-potty training occurred, I felt very at ease.  In fact, I do not remember using wipes, I kept a diaper bag in the car but never carried it around with us, and when I thought it was time to potty train, I just let it be.  I cannot tell you how old Baby D was when he stopped using diapers.  Maybe 2? Maybe 1?  No idea – he was such a piece of cake baby and I was such a laid back mamma.

So one would think that I would take my lessons learned and use them with Baby W.  He is almost 2, and about 4.5 million diapers later (or so it feels like), I am ready to potty train him.  Or rather,  I forgot what potty training a boy of mine means.  Let’s accredit this situation to the 7 year gap between having Baby D and Baby W.  While there were certain things I was smart enough to remember (a little bit of grass never hurt anyone, and play-dough makes for interesting poops later), other aspects of baby rearing clearly escaped me.  So I purchased a potty chair and a pack of training pants.  If you look in my bathroom now you will find that the potty chair has become the holder for [Pause for potty break] all of Baby W’s bath toys (two dinosaurs, three fish, 4 cars and some character from a Super Mario chess board game, FYI).  After going through the entire pack of training pants in less than one hour, I decided to let Baby W free roam [Pause for potty break].  This morning was an absolute success: he did not have any accidents (unless I find a hidden wet spot somewhere).  Then after lunch we took a dive in the pool.  It was so cold!  When Baby W’s lips took on a slight blue hue, I decided it was time to call it quits.  We came inside and I sat his bare butt in his high chair while I whipped us up a snack.  He was wrapped in a blanket, still warming himself from the too cold pool water.  Then, I thought I heard something: dripping water, a leaky faucet.  Only it wasn’t.  Baby W smiled as he was clearly feeling some warmth under that blanket.  So gross.  Frustrated I began wondering what I am doing wrong, what I need to do differently.

It required a bit of introspection to realize I am not doing anything wrong per say.  Neither is Baby W.  But some things I cannot control – and apparently – neither can he.  I will keep running him to the potty anytime he asks – hence the pause for potty breaks – and I will keep washing blankets, training pants, high chair seat cover, etc until Baby W is ready.  Then again, I might still be changing diapers when he’s home for spring break his sophomore year in college.  It could always be worse…[Pause for potty break]…

I became a Pinteresting queen before school ended this year for my boys.  I had horrid flashbacks of last summer: countless hours of hearing the repetitive sound of axes hacking away on Minecraft, Teen Titans blasting from the television, and enough “I’m bored” nags from the boys to last me a life time.  So, I became a Pinterest queen.  I searched for ideas to keep them entertained, but it seemed to me that I was the only mom that to this day, does not coddle her little boys with bubbles and fairy dust.  If I were to tell me kids we were making a cute bumblebee craft out of toilet paper rolls (yes, that is on Pinterest for all you lame-o moms), they would have packed their stuff and marched on out of my house.  I searched high and low for cool ideas.  The final product still sounded lame, but I knew I could pull it off.  When I told Baby G and Baby D what their summer plans consisted of, I received the mandatory “UGH!!!” but I promised them it would be much more awesome than they could imagine.  So here goes:

Each day of the week took on a new title:  Make-something Monday, Traveling Tuesday, Wet Wednesday, Thoughtful Thursday, and Figure-it-out Friday.  Each week would then have a new theme based on whatever is going on that week therefore we wouldn’t be tied down to making boring crafts or visiting the same two historical sights in our town.

This first week was off with a bang.  We are going camping for the first time with Baby W this weekend, so our theme was geared toward this trip.

Make-something Monday: First off, I am a horrible mother in the eyes of the boys: they are given until 930 to do whatever they want, but by 930 I expect them to be fed, dressed, and brushed [teeth].  They were then presented with a short chore list which ended with 3 worksheets (today was reading practice) and 30 minutes each online for keyboard/typing lessons.

Too little to really understand what he's doing, but he wanted to practice his writing too!

Too little to really understand what he’s doing, but he wanted to practice his writing too!

Not happy about it, but this is how your brain doesn't turn to mush during the summer months

Not happy about it, but this is how your brain doesn’t turn to mush during the summer months













And then we were ready.  Monday was a craft, and I knew they would hate me if it was lame (see toilet paper bumblebee).  Instead we made lanterns.  We took an aluminum can, drew a pattern of dots, and then – here comes the cool mom – the boys used hammer and nails to make holes in their holed pattern.

Watch those fingers!

Watch those fingers!

So careful..

So careful..

A rare moment caught on camera: brothers helping each other!

A rare moment caught on camera: brothers helping each other!













Once the holes were punched, the boys painted their cans.  The paint wasn’t very visible on the cans, so to let them have a bit more fun, they painted on other stuff too.



We left the cans out to dry and later this weekend we will put a glow stick in them and brighten our tents.

Traveling Tuesday:  After Monday, I thought we were on a roll!  The boys seemed so happy with all my ideas – I figured they would wake up Tuesday ready to go.  Boy, was I wrong.  Their chore and workbook list met them like nails on a chalkboard, and after hearing Baby G complain about how awful always having to do something is, I sent him and his hormonal self off to a friend’s house for the morning.  Any fabulous plans I had were unraveling so quickly and it was just day two.  I packed up Baby W and Baby D and we headed out, with a slight change of plans and a detour from the week’s theme.  It was voting day so I decided to show Baby D how he should one day exercise his rights.  On our way to our polling location, I explained to him the importance and value of just one single vote.  Once there, he followed me through the process, but closed his eyes while I cast my vote because, “It’s your secret”.  We ran a few more errands together, and though our day turned out quite differently than I had planned, at least Baby D learned something new.


Wet Wednesday:  Last weekend we had a big crawfish boil at our house – and it rained, rained, rained!  Wednesday was our first dry day, and thank goodness because we planned on getting really wet!  After the usual fight with chores, the boys were packed up and ready to hit the beaches.  This time we decided to bring our puppy with us.  Baby L is an almost 8 year old German Shepherd/Collie who is deathly afraid of the water but loves the beach – weirdo.  Packing for the beach as a single adult is so easy: you grab a towel, sunscreen, sunglasses, and go.  But packing for three kids and a dog is no easy task.  I needed an oversized sheet for Baby W to lay on, I needed the umbrella to cover Baby W and Baby L.  A water bowl for Baby L, beach toys, towels, towels, towels, snacks, water, hats……. I packed for nearly an hour knowing well that I would likely only stay for an hour! Then once on the beach, the two older boys took off for the water, leaving me with an overly excited and sandy baby and a scared to death but terribly happy dog.  The two of them covered my makeshift play area with sand, threw my water bottles out of the shade and chased other dogs on the beach (yes, even Baby W tried chasing the dogs).  By the time I had the situation under control, I was exhausted and ready to go home.

Chilling in the shade

Chilling in the shade

That's a laughing baby

That’s a laughing baby












Before I hung up my gloves and gave in, my phone rang.  My dear friend, RC, offered us 4 tickets to our local water park.  I have lived here nearly six years and yet have never been to the water park because the prices are so steep!  So with the offer of free tickets and the opportunity to spend an awesome afternoon with a great friend, I jumped right on it!  We packed our beach things in a fury – aided by a sweet homeless man (we gifted him our water bottles and snacks) and rushed home to drop off Baby L.

The water park was fantastic!  The boys rode all the slides with RC because – I’m not even ashamed to admit – I am too chicken to ride those crazy slides!!  Instead, Baby W and I enjoyed the kiddie pool.   Everyone had a fabulous time, and before we knew it, it was closing time.   The boys all picked up a nice tan, while I went home looking like I was slowly morphing into a lobster: nothing that some Aloe Vera can’t fix.

Loving his first water park experience

Loving his first water park experience


Lazy river - I can handle it!

Lazy river – I can handle it!

With RC and her mother in law

With RC and her mother in law










Thankful Thursday: I decided to give the boys a bit of a break – and be thoughtful – and didn’t present them with a chore list first thing in the morning.  At some point today we will have a lot of prepping to do for this weekend’s camping trip, so I gave them the morning off to play.  Amazingly, Minecraft has not come on the Xbox yet and I haven’t heard, “I’m bored”, but the day is still young…

I had originally explained to the boys what Thoughtful Thursday meant:  we do something kind for someone else.  I gave them suggestions and told them we would decide weekly what we would do, but yesterday the boys informed me they already had something in mind and that I didn’t have to worry about it.  So I didn’t.  I hoped they wouldn’t forget and leave me hanging.  And this is what I found by my bedroom door this morning:

To: The BEST mom EVER From: Gabe Happy Thoughtful Thursday

To: The BEST mom EVER
From: Gabe
Happy Thoughtful Thursday

Say what you will about hormonal, pain in the butt boys; but sometimes – just sometimes – they can pull off some terribly sweet moves.

Lastly we have Figure-it-out Friday.  Tomorrow the boys are set to learn something new, but with our pending camping trip, I knew I wouldn’t have time to write this week’s blog, so I can only offer a sneak peak!  After their chores – ha! – the boys will look up online (they find it thrilling when I give them the green light to Google anything!) information regarding our camp sight: history, special landmarks, local birds or animals.  We will then use all the knowledge they learned – sounds fun, huh?  I can just picture myself spotting birds…

As week one of summer break ends, I can only look forward to the next two months.  Surely, not all days will be as well organized as Monday or fall into place as smoothly as Wednesday.  There will be plenty of days like Tuesday, but thank goodness, they are always, always followed by wonderful moments like Thursdays.

Baby L touching the water reluctantly

Baby L touching the water reluctantly














Happy Mother’s Day…to Me

In honor of moms having a relaxing day, I will keep this short:

We have all heard the jokes about what mothers really want for Mother’s Day: a shower without little hands peaking under the bathroom door, a meal eaten while it is still hot and while others are actually eating, and ah-yes – a full night’s sleep!  Jokes aside, though, that’s really what we want!

The clock has just struck midnight so it is officially Mother’s Day, but I can guarantee that those things listed above will not be gifted to me.  In fact, here I am at midnight, bright eyed and awake.  Why?  Because the gift of peace for a mom is non-existent.

Baby G has an ear infection.  It’s the outer ear, so not contagious, but not any less painful.  He is on an antibiotic regimen and on a very strict “no pool” status.  He hates it.  I hate it.  He can’t sleep and with his big brown eyes he begs me to help him get rid of the pain.  Of course, I can’t.  I have done all I can to help alleviate the pain, but until those little drops start kicking in, all I can do is wait and remind him it’s OK.  Right. Like that helps.

It’s more than that – in just writing those three short paragraphs, I had to stop to give Baby W a bottle when he woke up, rock him back to sleep, let a cat out of the house, let another cat back in the house, and get a blanket for Baby G.  This motherhood business is never-ending.  It doesn’t even pause for a day – or a night.

But us moms who are giving it all up – we have something extra special coming our way.  It’s things like these:

photo-3 (2)

This was from Baby D.  His very awesome teacher sent him home every day this week from school with a different Mother’s Day craft.  Baby D would then proudly present them to me as soon as he walked in the door: “Do you like this, Mamma?  Did I do a good job?”  Of course he did a good job – he did a great job!  The gesture, the craft – it’s pretty nice.  But the meaning behind it – now that is superb.

If it wasn’t for the small things like this one, I wouldn’t be a mom.  If it wasn’t for the fact that I am the only one that can help ease ear pain by just letting you sit in my lap, I wouldn’t be a mom.  If I wasn’t awake at almost 1 am on Mother’s Day ensuring everyone else is content, I wouldn’t be a mom.

So, to all you moms out there who are up in the  middle of the night with a sick child, or a list of chores to finish, or a mind full of worries for your family, or even if you are working that dreaded night shift to support your little ones – my warmest wishes of a happy Mother’s Day go to you.  You will likely not catch much of a break tomorrow, or the day after that: just remember, our job is never ending.

photo-2 (2)

Now, let me rush back to my camomile Mother’s Day date.

Notice that Baby D drew a small picture of me covering him with an umbrella :)

Baby D drew a small picture of me covering him with an umbrella 🙂

Being the Queen Bee

When I was just a little girl, a weird lady from our community claimed that she could predict not only how many children you would have, but also their gender and the order in which you would have them.  I caved in and had her check in on my future offspring.  She used a ring tied to a string and if the ring swung in circles it indicated a girl, while a straight back and forth swing indicated a boy.  My ring never swung in circles – just back and forth: three times.  So when I went in for my first ultrasound many years later, I was not at all surprised when the doctor pointed at that extra male appendage.  At the second baby ultrasound, again, the doctor showed me you know what.  By the time I reached my third baby’s ultrasound I dreaded that devilish woman and her stupid prediction.  I wanted a girl so badly.  Someone that could be like me, someone that would wear pink tutus and play with dolls.  But I knew deep down that I was bound to have yet another boy.  This time the doctor didn’t even have to point it out to me: I became an expert at decoding ultrasound pictures of little wee-wees.  So there’s that: no more chances of pink for me (have you tried paying the grocery bill for 3 boys and the dad?? No more babies allowed!)  But then something happened.

Maybe when I had Baby G I was too young to notice it.  And maybe when I had Baby D I was too busy with a toddler and a newborn to notice it.  But this time around with Baby W, I am older, more mature, calmer, wiser, and I tend to notice more details than I did with his older brothers.  There is just something between a boy and his mom that is so special and so grand and I have it threefold!

We were out with family one day and Baby W was passed around like a hot potato: everyone wanting to hold him.  He fussed a bit as all babies do, but when he got back to me, he just looked at me.  And I mean LOOKED.  His eyes were deep in mine.  I talked to him and I smiled at him.  I saw that look he gave back at me: it was so full of love, pure pure pure love.  It might be due to the fact that I am his sole source of food, but it has to be more than that.  I mean, I don’t look at the oven like that, and I love food!  But his look reflected peace, comfort, happiness.  I didn’t see that look on his face when he was with other people.

My eyes were opened now to this new idea that I might actually be really special out there to someone, that I might be the Queen Bee in a house full of boys.  I tested my theory in two ways:  with my older boys, and with another baby.

I started watching Baby G and Baby D: they don’t want to be swaddled and held close, but they do listen to me and react differently to me than they do with anyone else.  When they came home from school last week, I left them each a note on the door.   Baby G’s note was detailed: it listed the chores, his responsibilities, and then thanked him for being a great big brother.  Signed, I love you, Mamma.  Baby D’s was more simple, easier for a new reader:  a picture of a big smiling sun and the words: I love you so much! Mamma.  The boys’ reactions to the notes were similar to Baby W’s reaction when reaching me during his hot potato toss.  Their eyes shined with happiness and ease, and all it took was a note!  What power do I have over these boys?  What power does any mother have over her boys?

My second test involved another baby.  I used Baby M as my guinea pig.  He is my Godson and just a month older than Baby W.  He is a sweet beautiful baby boy, but the key to the test is that I am not his mother.  I held Baby M and I cooed with him and kissed him and cuddled with him, I looked at his face.  He looked content, happy even, but it was not the same.  He gave the boys the same look when they came in close and made silly faces at him.  He likes us, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t love me as deeply.  But his mamma – oh I saw him with her – he was mesmerized by her face, so thrilled to see her with him again.  She has that power too!

So today I sit here with the realization that I have been given this honor to raise three boys, just as that lady had predicted years ago. I won’t be playing with dolls or dressing them in pink, but I will forever be the Queen Bee.  The Man has told me that he fears the day the boys bring home their first girlfriend because he knows how rough I will be on that young girl.  So long as she is fantastic, smart, beautiful, great, amazing and…maybe I will be OK passing on the privilege of my being with my boys.

A Queen's Love

A Queen’s Love

What I did not sign up for

“Baby G, you are pushing my buttons today!!!”

“Really?” [Talking to Baby D] “Did you know Mamma had buttons?!”

Day 3 of Summer Break and they are already driving me insane.  Now sure, partial blame should be placed on Baby W who is less than a month away from gracing the world with his presence (don’t worry – the constant jabs and karate chops never let me forget he’s a growing boy).  However, a great blame can be placed on his two older brothers who insist on fighting over who’s turn it is to play Minecraft (what a senseless game!) and why in response to my pleas, it is truly impossible to play together.  Or why, mathematically speaking, Baby D got at LEAST 2mm more juice in his cup and that’s totally not fair!

But it’s ok – I can handle all of this.  I knew it was coming when the ultrasound showed me that extra body part (arggg why never a girl?!).  So I prepped for the summer:  had a large pool installed, searched the crevices of Pinterest for summer activities and ideas, signed them up for summer camps (mostly vacation Bible schools – who knows, maybe instilling some God in them will calm them down!!)

Some things, however, I did not sign up for.

This morning I dared entering their room – always a dangerous feat because you never know what you will find – living or not.  Today I found 2.5 living creatures in there:  BJ, the cat: alive and napping on the top bunk.  Though he isn’t really allowed in the house, I pick my battles wisely and this one just isn’t worth the fight.  Next, I find Zane, the turtle.  Just last week I realized his green little shell was turning slightly pale so I moved the poor guy into sunlight and he seemed very appreciative of the action.  He only hid his limbs in his little shell, but left his head peaking out as if thanking me in some weird turtle manner.  Today, also, he was just fine.  Lastly I spot the largest tank in the room, home to Dino, the newt (or salamander? No one is really sure what he is, honestly – the man at the mall swore he was a baby dinosaur, hence his name…)  I saw the tank, I saw the rocks Dino usually creeps out of when I come around, but what I did not see was Dino.

OH LORD! HE GOT OUT!  The thought of that slimy dinosaur lurking in my house sent chills down my spine!  “Man up, Woman!”, I tell myself.  I took a deep breath and dove straight into action.  I lifted the entire tank: water, rocks, and possible Dino and all.  The whole thing weighed a good 50 pounds (ok, I am probably exaggerating, but as always Baby W had to kick and that did not facilitate the move).  I took the tank to the bathroom, got some disposable plastic gloves (I have learned at least this: when living in a house full of boys and random animals, ALWAYS have disposable plastic gloves – you never know what grossness you have to collect), and slowly prepared for a tank clean-up.  First, I removed the rocks:  under rock one there was nothing but goo.  Under rock two, I discovered a slithering, slimy, and suddenly really skinny Dino.  Alive. So gross, but poor little guy, he did not look so happy.  Usually when he sees me he opens his gross little mouth all wide so I will drop a couple of his little dinosaur kernels into his tank.  But today he did not look too interested in lunch time.

Long story short, let me just draw you a picture:  I am 8 months pregnant, in my pajamas, singing lullabies to a newt/salamander/thing in my bathroom.  The boys come in to check on me and just watch in amazement as I show such love and compassion for an amphibian that as far as they knew, I thought was a repulsive, slimy creature.   But let’s be honest:  when we see another life living in distress, we, as mothers, step it up.

I cleaned his tank, placed him back in his home and then fed him (mouth wide open, this time).  He is a much happier Dino now.  Zane just looked at me from his again green shell, and BJ sneaked into my room – I do, after all, have the softest comforter in the house.

And would you listen to that?? -No yelling.  No fighting.  One of the boys, or both, must have fallen asleep.  Ah, no, there was a crashing sound now.  It’s all good in the world again…