I thought I was done blogging, but the truth is, life with two boys is just too darn amazing to not write it down.
At three, James has now been under anesthesia three times, but the good news is, each time is less serious. Big Brother is still a picky eater, but thanks to four months of therapy and the AMAZING people at Children's Hospital, his diet now contains all of the food groups.
Mom and Dad do have a lot more gray hair, but we also have a wonderful appreciation for our relationship with God, our quiet time together, and the precious and few years we get to enjoy our little boys.
Speaking of life with boys...I was inspired by a book from a friend who has three boys of her own. How to Tuck in a Superhero is a great collection of stories from a mom who tries not to take all of life's bumps so seriously. I laughed out loud at her house full of boys, and of course, now mine do the same silly things. I thought that there is a possibility that if I enjoyed her stories, other people might enjoy ours too.
So, here's the story of the week....
My boys have finally learned the fine art of playing together (as opposed to just constantly ripping toys out of each other's hands). As a little background for this story, you have to know that earlier in the day, they were having a good time upstairs in their room, playing some version of firetruck/ambulance/dinosaur train. Then I realized with time-stopping fear that the dreaded SILENCE had descended upstairs. I met Big Brother on the stairs, and he was asking for a tissue for James. Hmmmmm. I went up to find that they had decided that James 'needed' to brush his teeth, and they had collectively squeezed most of a tube of toothpaste all over the sink, and then preceded to try wiping it up with toilet paper. Ugh. Gritting my mommy teeth, there was a long lecture about not ever getting out the toothpaste unless an adult is there, etc, etc, etc, and then it was time for some 'quiet time.'
Quiet time ended with a great cheer from everyone under four foot tall, and lots of crashing, racing, and building-stuff-just-to-knock-it-down began again. As they were once again playing OH so nicely together, I decided to start chopping some sure to go uneaten veggies for dinner. Mid chopping, there it was again, that smothering blanket of SILENCE. Rushing upstairs (think two-at-a-time here, people), ready to repeat the lecture at full volume, I find no kids in their room and both doors into the jack and jill bathroom closed. Not good, not good at all. I flung the door open and find sweet James, standing at the sink with his toothbrush in hand and blue goo that used to be toothpaste smeared across his whole smiling face. Yep, he smiled. God bless him, that lecture from before quiet time was WAY gone and he thought I might actually be proud that he was brushing his teeth. About this time, I realize he has no pants or undewear on. "Um, James, why are you naked?" Zooooooom, out runs Big Brother. Seriously, he's no dummy. He knows the wrath is about to descend and he is getting out of dodge because that question wasn't directed at him and he didn't need to stick around to answer it. "Well," starts James....."I needed to go potty...." Then it happens-I look around more closely and take in the scene. I see the full roll of toilet paper in the middle of the bathroom floor. Picking it up, I realize it's soaking wet. In a blur, I see the toilet is closed. Praying, "please don't let there be a turd in there, please don't let there be a turd in there," I open the pot to find, yes, a turd. Big one. And then I make another mistake and ask again, "What happened?"
Apparently, James needed to go poopy, so Big Brother went in to 'help' him. They decided he should try to wipe his own bum, so they got down the full roll of spare toilet paper from the back of the toilet (Why not a few squares off of the roller? I asked the same thing.) In the process, yes, you guessed it, they drop the roll of toilet paper into the toilet, then REACH IN, retrieve it, lay it carefully on the floor because it's wet, close the potty, James wipes his bum with his little hands, decides to (thank goodness!) wash them, and, since he's standing at the sink, figures he should try that whole teeth brushing thing again.
I swear I only chopped three carrots. I was downstairs for five minutes. I think when children make a mess, they enter some kind of time warp that allows them to create a mess in fast forward while the rest of us go on living in regular time.
Needless to say, there was a long, teeth grinding lecture on toothpaste, toilet paper, and asking for help. I'm sure it will make no difference, but I tried. And later, I laughed until I cried, because life with little boys is just too funny to take seriously.
My husband practically jumps out of bed in the morning. He's a 4:45am, get up just to see the sunrise, don't miss the best part of the day, are-you-ready-to-go-yet kind of guy. I, on the other hand, am not a morning person. There, I've said it. I try to be, I'd like to be, but I just cannot get my brain in full drive mode before a hot half cup of coffee, either a long hot shower or a frigid splash from the tap on my face, and at least 10 minutes of quiet time in the upright position. Children have their own ideas about when mom should be in full 'go' mode. Most of you know what I'm talking about. If you're fortunate enough to get the children in their own beds (and keep them there), they are undoubtedly awake way too early most days, and at some excruciating hour on the weekends.
