Males rule in my house. I’ll tell you why and it’s not the reason you are thinking, I’m just so outnumbered. I have three sons, my husband, a male dog, and two male guinea pigs. My girl dog and I are the only females in the house which makes the ratio 7:2.
I’m drowning in boy. It’s a good thing I’m a strong mama or I’d get lost in all that maleness. I love being a boy mom, though I’ll admit I lose my patience and they do drive me solid crazy some days.
Here are the top 15 lessons I’ve learned being a boy mom for the last 13 years.
- Teen boys who are active in sports can eat their weight in pretzels without a single roll of chub appearing on their waistlines. This is not an urban myth—this is the absolute truth. I have witnessed it. (And I’m so jealous.)
- The toilet seat is almost always wet. Never rush to sit down on the toilet, always check the seat first. If I do not check the seat first, I am in for a bad, wet, nasty surprise. Moms of newly potty trained boys, expect this toilet seat checking will be your life for many years to come. Even when the boys are older, their aim does not improve. (Personal Tip: Beware of using the bathroom, especially in the dark without visually inspecting for a dry seat first. I’m serious. Don’t do it. While you’re at it, check the floor too so you don’t get wet socks.)
- Urine can eat through paint. I’m serious, it can. A fact I did not know before I was a mom to multiple boys. I know this because we are on our fourth toilet seat. It’s amazing how urine can eat through toilet seat paint, corrode out the bolts attaching the toilet seat to the toilet, and seep into the cracks of wood flooring. Take my advice, tile the bathroom when boys are babies. Get used to it boy mamas, it’s a firehouse they can’t control and they will water the walls too. It’s not a wild spray just when they are babies or toddlers, trust me, my bathroom needs an hourly scrub down.
- Food disappears in bulk fashion in a blink. I can’t say enough about food. They flock to the kitchen when I come home from the store. I can’t keep up with enough food, they consume it so fast. If I buy a box of Cheez-Its, I’m lucky if it lasts 24 hours. It might last 51 hours, but it certainly won’t last 52. My husband will wait too long for a piece of cake savoring each moment up until he finally decides to eat it only to find someone already inhaled it. You snooze, you lose. Label it! We must label our food treasures or the boys will inhale them.
- The things in your house are all toys. Incessant fort-making happens (I could have said incessant fart-making because that happens, too! Oh, and let’s not forget the running around after making farts for the stinky crop-dusting effect for the room.) All things in the house are free game for fort material. Laundry baskets full of t-shirts, sheets, clothespins, couch cushions, chairs, shoes, blankets, string, bungee cords, books, curtains, bar stools, pillows, and more. They will use every stinking piece every darn time. Forts upon forts. The above-mentioned removable cushions also become sleds down the stairs, and air mattresses do too.
- Boys like crafts, too, and mama’s kitchen utensils are used for said crafts. I’ve walked in on my son sawing pencils on my cutting board to create parts for crafts. He has sawed open pens to get out the springs inside. He tells me his favorite is the serrated one because he can saw wood and cardboard. I love his creativity and excellent practical tools, but he sure is a tornado. Let’s just say my knives are not the sharpest. He’s lucky I value creativity.
- Boys must have physical activity several times a day and they throw everything. Boys must climb and stand on all pieces of furniture: chairs, couches, tables, end tables, and railings. They need to get their energy out especially in the winter so I allow this within reason. Learn to dodge flying objects and flying footballs in your spare time. Face it that you will never be good enough to dodge them all. You will get pegged at some point.
- Odors happen. They happen a lot. The smells from the boys will not improve as they grow. Fellow boy moms get used to announcing of farts and fart jokes accompanied by laughter. Get used to accusing and denial of farts too. Some gladly claim them, yet some will utterly deny the silent stink.
- Burping is easy and a skill. Burping is as easy as breathing. I’ve lived four decades and I still can’t burp on purpose but they’ve all figured out how to do that before the age of six.
- Boys have their own ideas of what constitutes a fruit. They think fruit snacks are fruit and will argue they are right until their last breath. Maple syrup is a fruit too because it comes from trees. Ketchup is a fruit too because it’s made from tomatoes. Ketchup will be licked off plates. Syrup too. After all, they are fruit, right? Every last pseudo–fruit streak must be fully savored and not wasted.
- Carpooling for sports practice hurts the nose and stains your memory. Driving four 13-year-old boys home from football practice will fry out your nose. The ride will make you realize you were wrong when you thought you’d smelled the worst smell emanating from your child.
- I must again mention the stink—it bears the need for multiple mentions. Stink lingers. Shoes and socks can stink up an entire room for days. Febreeze is truly your friend. Bless you, Febreeze.
- They fight too hard sometimes. They will fight and hurt each other on a daily basis. They just can’t keep their hands to themselves. To reduce the number of squabbles get a minivan, an SUV, or some vehicle where there can be space between them to save your mama sanity on all family drives.
- It’s never quiet and they are always loud. It is not quiet and it won’t be unless they are asleep or gone.
- Football happens in the living room. Daily. No matter what. You can’t stop it.
I love my boys and being a boy mom.
No doubt I’m outnumbered, but I love them despite their messy, stinky, incessantly hungry, active, bickering sides because they are also sweet and good boys. They make me laugh and we have fun. They are smart, athletic, and creative.
Being a boy mom rocks.