N is for…

It is for so many things. Especially things that deal with kids and parenting.

Normal. What the hell is that, anyway? Once you have kids, the definition of normal is significantly changed. Before having kids and we wanted to go out to eat, normally we would just go out to eat wherever we wanted. Now? Now, we fight with kids who can’t find their other shoe, herd them to the vehicle and attempt to have a civilized meal at a restaurant that has food we know our heathens will eat. Before having kids we normally got to sleep all night. After, normal became waking every 2 hours (at best) for feedings and changings, waking for a sick kid, or one who was scared of the monster under the bed, or was thirsty. Or just wanted to ask what you were doing.

Nosy much? Who are you talking to on the phone? Who are texting? Whatcha eating? Where are you going? Why are you sitting on the toilet? Maybe it’s curiosity. They ask a million other questions, too. It’s probably not curiosity. They’re just nosy. All up in my business. Do your kids watch you on your phone from over your shoulder? That my cue to shut it off until they’re either preoccupied entertaining themselves or in bed asleep.

Night night love you. The last words we hear before enjoy a couple hours of blissful quiet while we watch Mom and Dad shows. No Teen Titans Go. No Beyblade Burst cartoons. No Pokemon anime. Just The Voice, The Good Doctor, This Is Us, Grey’s Anatomy, Station 19, Blindspot. We get to eat food without having to share it.

Noisy much? Oh the noises we hear. Crash! Bang! Boom! Clunk thunk kachunk. Beeps and boops. Thunderfeet. Temper tantrums. Screams, whining, questions. Laughter. We’re bombarded with noise all day. As they age, though, they often quiet down (most of the time) as their noise making faces become more and more engrossed in electronics. There will come a day when we realize our life is unusually quiet. So for now, all we need to do is learn to breathe, embrace the chaos, and enjoy the noise that is our life. This is what normal is now.

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Q is for…#atozchallenge

Quiet.

Ever lovin’, sanity restorin’, God damn peace and quiet.

Just an hour ago this house was bouncing like a rave. Kid one was running around the house with his little brother’s pull up on his head. Not like a crown, though. He had it pulled down so far it was a mask and he was looking through a leg hole.

Meanwhile, Kid two was either jumping on his bed or doing headstands in his bed. They clearly were not ready for bed. They were all hyped up and ready for a rodeo.

An hour before that they were chasing each other through the house ricocheting off the walls, screaming with either laughter or anger. One would pick and pick and pick, laughing the whole time. Then the other would scream and chase the picker. The picker would run screaming for their life.

An hour before that they were outside. Awe hell no, it still wasn’t quiet. Bang was on his little, motorized four-wheeler screaming. His big brother had the audacity to try to ride it, too. As far as Bang is concerned his big brother is too big to be on it. That doesn’t stop his brother, though. We could hear the frustrated scream inside with the windows and doors and shut tight. The boy’s got pipes.

In the beginning all was quiet. Then we had kids. Would I rather have kept the quiet? Or would I rather keep the kids? I’d be lying if I said I’d rather keep the quiet. I’d also be lying if I said I liked all the noise. Or at least the sibling rivalry noise. The laughter playing together noise is musical. It’s the difference between listening to James Taylor and Metallica.

The roaring thunder has now passed. The storm has quieted. Except for Dozer and Timbit runnin’ their asses off on their wheels, peace reigns again.We’re getting caught up on our shows preparing ourselves for the ruckus that will undoubtedly resume in the morning. I’m as sure of that as I am that someone will pee on the toilet.

Note: For those of you who are curious about the shows, we’re watching The Voice and Blindspot and Grey’s Anatomy.

Once Upon A Wish

Once upon a time, I used to wish to have a baby girl. Sugar. Spice. Everything nice. Pony tails and painted nails. Tea parties and cute dresses. Turns out my Y’s are faster swimmers than my X’s so we only make boys. Welcome to the boys womb. Where there’s always, dirt, noise, and pee on the toilet seat.

Just like my parents before me, we have two boys, Crash and Bang. Perhaps you’ve heard a bit about them? We have been asked numerous times if we’re going to try for a girl. We’re good with two boys. I’ve heard stories about people “trying for a girl” and end up with 6 boys. No thanks. We’re good.

If I am their Superadad, they are my Supersons. We fight off villains with Nerf guns. We embark on grand adventures through the high grasses of the small field behind our yard. We climb trees and “mine for gold” (aka dig holes in the mud). We slop when we eat and we rarely make in the toilet when we pee.

Their energy knows no bounds. They show no signs of slowing down any time soon, either. That’s okay. I wouldn’t want them, too. Trampolining, playgrounds and bike rides in the summertime. Sledding, snowballs, snowmen, and igloos through the winter. After all of this they still have the energy to play inside. Legos, floor hockey, and sword fights. Hide and seek, jumping on beds, and practical jokes (everyone loves a good scare except the person getting scared).

They drive us absolutely insane sometimes. They kick off their muddy boots. Literally. Mud right up the walls. Wet snow clothes in heap by the back door. Toys strewn everywhere. The video game craze and all things Minecraft, Mario, Lego and trucks of every kind. Everything they touch falls to pieces. Some of the stuff they broke we thought should be indestructible. Guess we should have known  better.

They make us laugh. They decide at bedtime, after fifteen minutes of laying quietly, that it’s time show us how to do the whip and nae nae dance they learned at school. Stanky leg included. They come screaming down a hill on a sled and hit the jump at the bottom then hit the ground rolling with laughter. Then do it again and again. They talk to themselves while sitting on the toilet having a poo. And he’s not done pooing until he’s done talking to himself so don’t bother interrupting. They tell the same joke a thousand times because it was funny the first time. But mostly because it’s the first real joke they learned to tell.

What do you call cheese that doesn’t belong to you?
Nacho cheese.

They make us say things we never dreamed we would say. Stop playing with your pee pee. Don’t touch your brother’s pee pee either! Where are your pants? Don’t sit on your bother’s head. Don’t fart on his head either. Who wiped their booger on the couch? Who peed in the garbage can?

But most of all, they make us feel loved. When we find ourselves in a quiet moment, they snuggle up so close we can feel their breathing slow as they drift off to sleep. When all they want is a hug. When they think of each other and want to buy two chocolates instead of just one for themselves. When we get a random “I love you” from them for no reason other than to remind us.

I no longer wish to have girls. We may not be all ponytails, painted nails and everything nice around our house. But we do have a well balanced life of love, happiness and frustration. Or perhaps we just love to be happily frustrated?