If you are a mother of more than 3 children, odds are you have most likely heard the following phrase "Wow, you've got your hands full !" More often than not, a complete stranger will say this to you at a time when you really, really, REALLY, do not need to hear it. Like while you are in the check out lane at the SuperTarget, and every one of your children is having a.....(what's a nice way to say meltdown? ) Let's just say they are all experiencing a 'personal moment of impatience and exhaustion coupled with the sudden onset of extreme hunger and the need for your complete and total attention on him and him only) There, that's what I meant to say in lieu of meltdown. Anyway, when all of a sudden, while you are trying to swipe your card through the payment machine while simultaneously keep your squirming infant in arms from lifting up your shirt looking for lunch, there it comes...."Wow, you must have your hands full !" Which is then followed by, "All boys?" I have since given up on replying to this. I used to say, "Yes, all boys ! Yes, they do indeed keep me busy!" And I would chirp this out while smiling gleefully, eager to appear like I had it ALL together. Well, I have since given up the niceties. I now look at them straight in the eye, shrug my shoulders, turn up the corners of my mouth only slightly, and give them that look which hopefully will make them feel like the idiot they are for saying such an obvious and ridiculous cliche at a time like this !! Of course my hands are full, you don't see the nanny do you? I suppose I could have left them in the car and then had empty hands, (and a wonderful and pleasurable shopping experience) but, kids kind of fill up your hands don't they? Time and time again, one shopping experience after another, I hear the dreaded I've got my hands full comment. Only once in a blue moon do I actually hear a positive parenting statement. Generally, this comes from someone of grandma age, someone who has been there, done that, and remembers with unbiased fondness the "mountain scaling" that is better known as shopping with a gaggle of small children. They look at me in my eyes, curl up their lips a bit, shrug their shoulders, and tell me how truly blessed I am. With a supportive and gentle tone they tell of the years back when they did the same thing, or how they had 5 boys, and how as hard as it was, they would not have traded being a mom for anything. Then they quietly push their cart down the aisle, and just for a minute you see your own future. You are shopping sans children, unhurriedly, and quietly, doting on young mothers and children. And just for a minute they have seen their past in you, and they remember that in the midst of grocery store mania, it just might have been all worth it.
Yes, that’s me, mom to 4 boys, well, 5 if you count the really big kid in the house, my husband. Welcome to my blog, a chance for me to expel the lunacy of my life into the digital world,with the hopes of creating a living memoir and having a few laughs along the way. I’ve been treading the water of motherhood for almost a decade now, 4 kids in 9 years, and all I can say is this is the most fun I never want to have again. Ever. Never again. Not even with grandchildren. Wait, I take that back. I forgot, grandchildren go home at night. Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely in LOVE with my boys. Head over heels, over the floor, high as the sky in love with them. I am still in awe of the fact I made 4 people. Pretty well too I must say, take away the 40 months of vomiting, abdomen swelling, peeing my pants misery, not to mention the 4 c-sections and I think I handled it pretty well. But as in love as I am with these little people, I am not in love with the day to day chore of raising boys to men. It’s thankless, lonely, dirty, repetitive, often mindless work, beginning before the sun rises and going well beyond the sunset. Only to do it all over again the next day. And the next, and the next. Listen, I’ve run 4 marathons, 26.2 miles of hell, and I can tell you they were all easier than the marathon that is child rearing. Give me several hours of solitude, just me and my ipod and the road and I will happily start running to the next state. But tell me I have to wipe down the kitchen table for the umpteenth time today and you will most surely see fire shoot out of my eyes. And when it’s finally clean, and when that little boy with the big blue eyes wants me to tuck him in so he can tell me he loves me, I forget about the annoyance that is the sticky kitchen table. I hope you continue to visit this blog where you get to sit down in my living room for a birds eye view of the most hilarious ride- mothering boys.