I have a confession to make. I’m just going to go ahead and say it.
I love my kids. With every fiber in my being. Wait for it. That’s not the actual confession. Read on.
Like most moms, I would do anything for them. Wait in line at crazy early morning hours to get a preschool spot. Yep. Glue 100 little felt circles on shirt for the 100th day of school? Yep. You name it, it’s probably a Yep.
I absolutely adore my boys. But y’all. Here’s my confession. I don’t always like them… right now…in this age range. I know, I know…insert GASP here but please tell me I am not the only one! This particular stage of full blown obnoxiousness, crazy stunts and whining…because they still whine, along with pre-teen angst mixed in with a side of autism from boy #1. It wears on my paciencia. That’s what happens when I need to get a point across to my boys…the Spanish comes out and they know I mean business.
We are in the trenches here with 3 boys ages 11, 9 and almost 8. And some days I just can’t hear the word POOP one more time! And those are always the days when their game is the strongest. What is it with boys this age and the constant talk about poop, farts and underwear? I feel like God has entrusted me with this task of raising boys that will become the young men of tomorrow and all they do is hear the word poo-poo {maybe that’s two words, dunno} and any chance of getting a valid point across to them is null and void. I’m in the trenches here peeps…send help. I’m outnumbered.
What do you guys want for dinner today? Poop.
What is your new friend’s name? Poop.
Why did the chicken cross the road? To Poop.
All of which are followed by giggles, jokes and more giggles. But it’s not the cute little baby giggles. It’s the giggles of pre-teens and almost pre-teens that are all of sudden getting bigger, taller and sometimes a little stinkier. This stage of motherhood is kicking me in the derrière {I refuse to say butt and engage in their game!}. I miss my sweet little babies. We are in this awkward phase of growing up and I’d be lying if I said that the onset of puberty that I can already see making its way into our home didn’t make me nervous.
And the thing is, as obnoxious and annoying as they have been lately…I don’t want to miss a thing because I know that one day, I am going to miss hearing the endless poop jokes coming from the back seat of the car. The energy, imagination and bond that only 3 brothers share, especially the bond over what mommy will say when they’re thinking of their next funny move. I’ve gone from Paw Patrol to Poop Patrol in the blink of an eye and somehow I realize that I am not ready to leave the poop jokes trenches. But in the meantime…help in the form of coffee, Rosé and some fellow mommas in these same trenches that share in the laughs and frustration are getting me through.
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