My boy...

I am the mother of a boy.

I have become well-versed in all things Lego. I have stepped on action figures, Hot Wheels, military vehicles, and building blocks in the middle of the night. And I have sworn out loud. Loudly.

Being the mother of a girl who is born first, in no way prepares one to have a boy. Seriously.

My girl does not argue about doing her homework. My boy, on the other hand, will try to bargain with me regarding his homework. “Instead of writing my spelling words THREE times, how about I write them one time, but VERY neatly?” I usually agree to this compromise… it’s easier than arguing and he gets a 100 on his test every week, anyway. Plus, getting the rare chance to look at his neat handwriting is a huge bonus.

My girl doesn’t get in trouble at school. Last week my son brought his folder home with the following note: ‘Davis was playing with his pencil today in class, and pretending to use it as a weapon.’ And in parentheses: ‘(Star Wars, I think)’.

My girl doesn’t pee outside. Yes, you read that correctly. Just last week, when the kids were walking home from school, another mother that is a friend of mine alerted me to the fact that not only had Davis peed on the way home from school, but he was announcing proudly to anyone that would listen: “I peed in public!” Ugh. Trust me, we had a LOOONG conversation after that one. (and no, Andy, you DON’T owe the kid anything because he got ratted out! Haha ;)

My boy throws rocks. Not AT anyone (well, not usually), but just for the sheer joy of throwing rocks. Unless it’s a really cool rock. Then it makes its way to his pocket, into the laundry hamper, and inevitably into my washing machine. We have the cleanest rocks ever.

He searches for sticks that he can use as a gun or a light saber or a sword. I have to laugh when I think back to how I didn’t want him to have toys that were pretend weapons. Oh, how naïve I was. When you become the mother of a boy, you realize that EVERYTHING becomes a ‘weapon’. An innocent looking plastic shovel? Well, it’s a ‘gun’. An empty paper towel tube? A sword, of course. And evidently a pencil will serve nicely as a light saber, in a pinch.

He builds ‘constraptions’ (which I guess are a mix of ‘construction’ and ‘contraptions’). Want to catch a groundhog? Davis will build you a trap. (In all fairness, it WAS groundhog day, that stupid Punxatawney Phil had been on television all day… and the trap was sweeeet, I must say.)

He fights with his sisters, and makes messes, and doesn’t wash his hands until I finally just have to yell.

Being the mother of a boy can be exhausting and even gross, at times… “Hey Mom, pull my finger!” It is also hilarious, and challenging, and frustrating, and comical.

And pretty darn awesome. :)