Once upon a time there was a girl. And all she ever wanted to be was a mom.
She had it all figured out. As a teenager she decided she wanted a large family. At least six kids. Three boys. Three girls. Her first baby would be a girl. Her name would be Destiny Starr. Because it was an awesome name.
Apparently God didn’t pay much attention to my plans.
Because I’m six sons in now and still no sign of a daughter. I’m the lone sailor on a sea of testosterone.
To be honest, I DO have two female dogs and 3 female cats.
But I can’t chat with them about all things girly. All they care about is crunchies in a dish and getting their bellies rubbed. So, I’m pretty much alone here.
People seem to have some preconceived notions of what my life must be like. They envision a trashed house, covered in mud and bugs. I must be frazzled and walk around in football jerseys looking exhausted.
Um. No. See, I’m still a woman, Mm’kay? I still wear dresses. In fact, being a hippie, I basically live in dresses. I like flowers and faeries and Tori Amos and sparkly stuff.
But I admit, some days are tough in terms of keeping a firm hold on my femininity. I am fighting the valiant fight while teaching my sons manners and etiquette. I keep reminding them to say excuse me, to hold open doors, to chew with their mouth closed, to offer to help carry heavy bags of groceries for ladies or the elderly. I explain (AGAIN) why it is pretty darn important for them to only wear socks and underwear for ONE day, to keep their nails trimmed, to brush their teeth twice a day. And shockingly, I have learned that if you keep at it, you really CAN raise boys who can behave like proper young men in public. I’ll toot my own horn here and tell you I have received many compliments (well, so has my hubby , but lets be honest here, he can be just as bad as the kids.) on my childrens behavior when we are out at a restaurant or a store. I always tell people I consider my parenting a success if they behave in public the wayI teach them in our home.
But I will be 100% honest in this one. It’s not all pretty. I have pretty much given up on decorating the house. Because any knick knack I purchase lasts 24 hours tops before getting smashed. The few special things I have managed to keep from getting busted are tucked into my office. My office is forbidden to enter for any person under the age of 18 with penalties of sure death if this rule is broken.
My bras make great sling shots. The fridge and freezer are the perfect storage spots for random toys and shoes. (Yeah. shoes.) I once pulled a dead mouse out of a pocket of my sons pants. My boys have borrowed my nicest kitchen knife to dissect a field mouse they discovered our cat had killed. I have a sponge and a spray bottle of cleaner within reach of the toilet because I have to clean the toilet EVERY SINGLE TIME before I use it. And the floor around the toilet. And the wall. My porch has to get cleaned of nearly everyday because my 4 year old prefers peeing THERE. (I make my peace with this because at least its one or two less times I have to clean the toilet.) The most common words I hear daily are “Butt”, “poop”, “boogers” and “penis”. My house is littered withstray army guys, legos and matchbox cars. I have visions of an immaculate yard with gorgeous flower beds. Instead my yard is a mass of bikes, scooters, balls, skateboards and sports equipment. My headbands are used for ninja play. The tv always has some action/sci fi movie playing on it. Or PBS cartoons. (If I have to see one more episode of Caillou I swear I will stab myself in the eyes with a pencil.) I sweep and mop twice a day. At least. I own a carpet cleaner and I use it twice a week. No lie. No onein this house has the ability to aim for the actual trash can while tossing trash out. My life can be noisy and busy and crazy and chaotic and dirty and smelly. There are days I long for a long bubble bath. I wish I could burn a scented candle without my sons blowing it out and dipping their fingers in the melted wax so it hardens and they can then peel it off and say “Look Mom! Wax finger tips!” (That’s great son, now put the flippin wax BACK in my candle holder.Ugh)
But ya know what, It ain’t all bad. Not by a long shot. Before you go and pity me, let e tell you about the good stuff.
I live with 6 guys. This means when I get myself dolled up for church or whatnot, I have 6 males who all tell me how pretty I look. (Well, I have a hunch the baby only likes me for y breasts. But whatevs.) My 4 & 5 year old will randomly wander up to and tell me I look beautiful like a princess. My 3 oldest boys give me a hug and kiss before they leave for school every morning before school. At night, before bed, we all pile into my room and I read a couple chapters aloud while they actually STOP and listen intently. Sometimes my 9 year old offers to make me a cup of coffee. My 7 year old likes to write me little love notes and leave them for me to find all over the house. I get totally spoiled at Christmas. Last year my boys spent almost all of their savings on gifts for me from the dollar store. I got candles and coffee mugs and perfume and sparkly sunglasses and nail polish. On Mothers Day I get handmade cards and they serve me breakfast in bed. I may be alone much of the time on female stuff, but in this house I am queen. I may sometimes get the sense they are in some secret society that I cannot ever be a member of. In this society you have to have a penis, you have to know more than one Pokémon name, be able to name all the Star Wars characters in order of movie and be able to do that gross spit thing where you let it hang out of your mouth and when it gets within a fraction of an inch of the floor you slurp-suck it back up into your mouth. I may not ever be able to join their gross-boys club….but I consider myself a lucky woman. I don’t have to carry the groceries in from the car. I don’t ever take the trash to the outside can. I don’t have to battle the spiders. When I was on bedrest with my last pregnancy my sons brought me drinks and snacks and massaged my feet with lotion.
So yes, my life can be pretty nuts at times. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m a lucky mom. ❤