Tuesday, 4 February 2014

The Games We Play (aka Pranks from the Kidlets)

No Pictures this time, ran out of inking pens and have to get more :(- OneAwesomeMom

As a mother of three young boys, I put up with a LOT of disgusting crud on a daily. Some things are way more gag-inducing than others, but the absolute worst of the worst includes farting loudly... in public... then shrieking that the fart stinks so bad that someone will surely die... they're probably not wrong.

They also love to hand me bugs, slime, and random crap that creep the hell out of me. Seriously! The more legs, slime, hair, and creepier the better. My reactions are supposedly priceless.

Another thing they love to do is play this game where they eat the most random stuff: dipping apples in ketchup, drinking a concoction of soggy crackers, orange juice, and soup... licking random crud after smelling it... its completely on purpose and the goal is to see if Mom will gag (or better yet, puke. Bonus points if I dont make it to the toilet or outside in time).

My kids can be mean little creeps sometimes, but most of the time, I can handle it without so much as thinly pressing together my lips and/or turning green. I can usually smile and say "that's so gross guys!". 

For first-time mothers of boys, RUN AWAY and DO NOT make the mistake of labelling stuff as "gross" or "disgusting"!! They will run off with a look of absolute glee on their faces. As though their Birthday has come early and they've just gotten EVERY SINGLE THING THEY'VE EVER WANTED and like a Gazillion dollars with the loudest most annoying toy ever!!! I wish I was joking. They'll run off, huddle together, whisper at each other, and then pretend that they've forgotten it all. 


Please note, I have recently discovered that my threshold for disgusting stuff is lumpy/sour milk... they've also discovered this, and the look of pure serenity has washed over all three of their faces... I think I'm in trouble

Monday, 20 January 2014

Waging War on the Small Ones

As you may have noticed, my DS2 has gotten a haircut since the last time I posted (re, Bathtime Blues). This has ended the “Oh your daughter is so cute!” stuff we used to have to put up with when we’d go out into public. Trust me, it was no easy task to chop off his beautiful locks. Being half Native, I like my boys to grow out their hair. However as they are also half Caucasian, I refuse to force either set of beliefs on them and would rather give them the choice between the two cultures. That being said, DS2 did not want his long pretty hair cut at all... 

However one day, I noticed that he was scratching a lot, and investigated why.

Aw crap... I tried for hours and hours on end, which eventually sprawled into days of sitting there meticulously picking out the small “friends” that DS2 had picked up. Thankfully, nobody else seemed to have gotten it, and DS2 put up with it for the most part. Three days later though...

My resolve broke. My hands hurt, my neck hurt, my eyes hurt from trying to focus on the teeny tiny terrorists who were evidentially winning this war. And that was just me. DS2’s patience wore out sometime during day 2, and hated the thought of sitting in my lap. So I finally relented. The invaders won and I had lost....

...the battle. With DS2’s permission, we got rid of the buggies; the only sure-fire way that I could think of, which of course, ended in a tantrum and lots of tears.

DS2 was very kind and put up with his mother’s theatrics and just wanted to get it over with so he could stop this nonsense and join the ranks of the carefree again. I’ll admit it. It was a little unnerving when I realized that the long hair and size difference were the ONLY differences between my older boys.

 The Boyz took off to play, and I sat there, wallowing in my sorrow that my little boy no longer looked like a baby and was indeed a young man. Heartbreaking as it was, it was kind of nice to realize that we got to save money on shampoo this way because DS2’s long hair and mine put together added up to a LOT of shampoo being used. Besides, as I told him, its only hair and it’ll grow back if he wants it to. The choice is his entirely.