I enjoy telling people I'm the mom of three boys. Some are in awe, I get the occasional Oh My God, some ask me "how do you do it?" But mostly I get a lot of sympathetic looks.
The truth is, as crazy and nutty as it can be around here, boys are pretty low maintenance. They don't need to have their hair braided in a complicated french braid (actually, my boys rarely even brush their hair), no ribbons or bows or fighting about clothes (unless it's to tell them to zip a fly or pull up their damn pants!)
Boys are far from modest, they'll pee outside and think nothing of standing on the front porch in their underwear.
They fight like dogs but rarely carry a grudge and they love their mommies unconditionally.
They do however have a few undesirable qualities.
They leave their soccer crap all over the house. On the kitchen table, strewn all over the living room and bedroom floors and dumped in the front hall.
They don't care whether or not they have sheets on their beds or pillow cases on their pillows. (I put them on, they somehow come off).
I've learned to be flexible, I don't complain so much about putting the toilet seat back down because in my house I am the minority, but I do complain when they forget to lift the thing in the first place!
The other day I was minding my own business, quietly surfing blogdom, when I heard a ruckus coming from upstairs. I ignore most of the rucki because I know it's just boy play and this was no exception. It got very quiet so I figured all was well until my phone chimed to tell me I had a text message. The names have been blurred to protect the innocent.
He obviously needed help because he wasn't spelling his way out of that "closset".