Humor Journal Kids Motherhood

Boy Mom Earns Glasses Of Wine With Sticker Chart

Boy Mom Earns Glasses Of Wine With Sticker Chart www.herviewfromhome.com
Written by Julie Hoag

I’m a boy mom and my three boys give me lots of chaos and chuckles on a daily basis. I’m sharing some of those chuckles with you all lovely mamas.  Join me as I spill some facetious humor and make myself a wine prize chart.

This morning I sit at my computer and sip my coffee. The coffee fills me up and I make an urgent dash to the bathroom. Only I find a nasty surprise. The toilet is plugged once again. This is not giving me a chuckle.

My daily use of the plunger is being fulfilled already at 8:30 am and I have to plunge it before I can use it. Holding it is not such an easy task for a mom in her forties after three pregnancies. My bladder is not my patient friend.

As I plunge I contemplate making a wine glass earning sticker chart for myself. 1 plunge=1 glass. I think that’s fair, don’t you? I’ll just tape it on the bathroom walls where I used to tape the boys’ potty training charts.

A wry smile stretches across my face. This could be fun. Besides, I love stickers.

I should have a wine earning chart for me as Mom. The kids had reward sticker charts for peein’ and poopin’ in the toilet. I should get a reward for the antics and angst I get from my boys.

Next step of the morning is driving six boys to basketball camp.

Oh, help me. This might get me more than one sticker.

“Time to go. Shoes on!” I chant three times in my drill sergeant voice.

My six-year-old doesn’t even move a single muscle, only his eyes wiggle across the iPad. After I drill-sergeant him enough he finally moves. Like molasses in snow.

Three of the boys in the van are my boys; and no this does not make it calm. It’s actually worse. The volume in the van is deafening. The laughter roars along with the slaps on the back to see who can slap the hardest. The one slapped screams when slapped. There are sirens of laughter in between yells of OW and more laughter, each one louder than the last. I imagine their shrieks are a sound bomb, about to burst and break the van windows. Shards of van window would fling their screams out to the world. At least it would fling them away from me.

I can smile. Carpool hell earns me another sticker.

I unload the four boys at camp and the van becomes silent. My two younger boys are left and they become somber. How lovely it is. The snippet of silence is a jewel.

Back at home I clean up the breakfast muffin crumbs decorating the floor beneath the 6-year-olds’ chair. The chocolate chips are ground into the hardwood floor grains which requires me to do some scrubbing. Another sticker.

My sticker chart will be full in no time.

After another loud van ride picking up the boys from basketball, we arrive back home. My oldest son’s four friends arrive on bikes like hornets on a soda can for an afternoon of middle school boy fun. They play nerf gun wars and my house erupts in flying nerf foam bullets, sniper shots, and dips behind couches and corners. And more loudness.

Sticker for me.

I bribe them with fruit snacks and chips and pop to go play their phones in the basement.

I spy my younger two have gathered neighborhood friends in the backyard. My youngest appears at the door with sand in his eye. A victim of a sand fight. I rinse it out with saline as he screams and thrashes at me.

Sticker again.

I yell out to the backyard that the sand war is now over. He bounds out the door with a smile. They use the hose to wet the sand to make sand castles. They are busy in safer fun for a few minutes. Though I know they will soak each other and become sand coated. Their feet will carry the sand to my freshly swept floors. Potential sticker.

The chaos is thinning for the moment. I sigh a long sigh of relief and actually work a few minutes.

I head to the bathroom once again, too much coffee. I go in too fast (again the mom bladder) and slip on the water in front of the toilet, at least I hope it’s water. It’s not yellow so that’s a plus. As I fall to the ground, I slam my knee into the toilet like a sledge hammer on concrete. I stand but can’t straighten out my leg. I look down, great, the toilet is clogged.

 Again. Seriously. A second plunge of the day must be worth two stickers.

After I unclog the artfully pee sprayed toilet, I prep dinner for my youngest who has baseball. From pee soaked bathroom to kitchen in thirty seconds flat. Sticker for sure.

Next I play lifeguard to the middle school boys in the pool. They play games putting each other in jail. Water shooter fights erupt. One boy tries to hide behind me. Turns out I’m not a good shield. They spray. I get soaked. Sticker.

 I seriously contemplate that glass of wine as they get out of the pool.  My chart must be full by now. I have just the bottle to use it on too.

I hobble, limping over to grab my hard earned glass of wine. I slip into the pool and float on a noodle all alone. Mommy time. Heaven at home. Love my boys with all my heart, antics and angst and all, but this mama needs a break.

The deserved wine glass of a mama is undeniable. I don’t mind if you copy me and make your own wine glass chart.

Go on, you deserve it mama.
Sticker Chart by Breeezy via Attribution Engine. Licensed under CC BY-NC-ND.

About the author

Julie Hoag

Julie Hoag is a freelance writer and blogger, wife, and mom to three busy boys, & fur mama to two rescue dogs and two guinea pigs. She writes on her blog about motherhood, kids, family, recipes, DIY, travel, and faith. She is a vegetarian who loves to cook and create recipes when she’s not driving her three boys all over town to sports practices in her crumb-filled minivan. In her past life she has worked as a Scientist and Medical Data Manager, a pediatric nurse, and a SAHM. She loves to volunteer in her kids’ schools and help fundraise money for their schools. She is a Christian who loves nature, animals, traveling, gardening, swimming in her pool, and simply spending time with her family. Her favorites are dark chocolate, red wine, and cheese with yummy bread.
http://www.juliehoagwriter.com/