Being the mother of little boys means constant motion. From the peeking sun over the eastern horizon, until the sky is “Gray dark”, as Eric says, which is very different from “Blue dark”, my life is overflowing with kinetic, whirling, busy, messy, energetic boys. Heck, if I’m honest, it’s even busy while they sleep, because that’s when I carve out my own needful things. That, and I haven’t slept through the night in well over five years now.
If it’s just my boys, or all boys, I can’t say, but they just never stop. From the time their little piggies hit the floor each day, they just go and go and go. There is no such thing as quiet time at our house- as much as we try! Even when I do manage to get them engaged in a book or story, they are poking, prodding, doing somersaults, wrestling or fidgeting while they listen. We may start playing a game by the rules, but before I know it, the Memory tiles are being made into forts, and the Lego people are coming to invade. The cherries from Hi-Ho-Cherry-O are bombs, and the poor guy from Operation is part of the Playmobil world now.
Their imagination is amazing, if exhuasting. While I was trying to steal a shower this morning, of course both of them had to come in a “see” what I was doing. And I mean, this was a quick shower- frantic rinsing, soaping, brush teeth while conditioner is on, scrub, scrub, rinse, done! In that time, both of the boys tried to get in the shower with me. Eric completely undressed, and when I opened the shower curtain, he was on the vanity, naked, with my eyeliner, drawing “whiskers” on his face “like dad!”. There was little left of my eyeliner pencil to salvage, and his face is still brown.
While I was cleaning Eric up, Jeffrey decided the kitchen floor needed mopping and dumped a bottle of cleaner out, then tried to use the Swiffer to “mop” it up- without a pad, of course.
This was all before 9 a.m.
And where was Abby, during all this? Sitting in her swing, chirping to herself, contentedly chewing and slurping on her hands. No matter what anyone tells you, they are different. Boys and girls, no matter what you do, are not the same. The boys are upstairs right now, having a burping contest. I am hiding. Abby is sleeping.
The other night, when I turned down the bed, there was a construction paper ladybug that said “I love you Mom!” on my pillow. Jeffrey was jumping up and down with excitement and glee at having surprised me. Just when I think I can’t do it anymore….