Its the dawn of a new age. With my feet firmly planted in my thirties, I’ve taken a minute to stop and evaluate what this new decade has in store for me. With my youth feeling like sand slipping between my fingertips I am frantically trying to hold on to, I also see a huge change in the little people in my life. As I have reached a new era in my singular life, so has my parenting. I no longer have toddlers and babies but little boys. Grown ass little boys. Bad ass little boys. Pain in my ass little boys. I am no longer changing diapers and scraping feces from under my fingernails, now I have the pleasure of wiping urine from every crevice and surface in the vicinity of any toilet. Its exciting to see who these little monsters are becoming. They are head strong, confident, funny, and absolute joy and the reason sanity and a youthful glow is a distant memory.
I distinctly remember being in my teens and even my twenties thinking when I hit thirty, might as well as stick a fork in me because my life will be done. And it some ways, maybe it is, what could be is quickly turning into what might have beens. And honestly I’m ok with that. Ill become a doctor just as soon as I grow two feet and become a Victoria Secret model. I hear Giselle is retiring and i think I’d be perfect for it. I’m right where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m a stay at home mom with two healthy boys. Sure I’m not that great at it. But since my boys don’t know any better they aren’t any worse for ware.
My first born is going to be SEVEN! How the hell did that happen? My gorgeous moody little baby has turned into a gorgeous, smart, moody little smart ass. He’s got the will and determination that a 60’s hippie would envy. The boy literally wants no career and wants to live with me forever. Last year at his preschool graduation, while kids were telling the audience what they wanted to be when they grew up, amongst they onslaught of doctors, vets and super heroes….my child wants to be a stay at home kid. Every afternoon we sit down to do homework and it ends in tears. His, mine, both. I’m not sure of many of the outcomes because I black out from fury. He can’t remember how to spell ONE but he can tell you the names, aliases, skills and weaknesses of every Marvel character ever made. He has little girls swooning in class and his goal is to be everyones friend (except his brother’s naturally). He has also discovered that I am different from the other moms as he likes to put it. He says my stature makes me a grown up kid and sometimes he’s thinks of me as a teenager. I take it as a compliment but I sure as shit remind him that I give grown ass whoopings. Just in case he gets any ideas.
My second born (and probably my last. GULP) is going to be FOUR. Gone are diapers and pacifiers. I walked down the baby aisle at Publix the other day and had a mild but very real anxiety attack when I realized I didn’t need anything in this aisle. Connor can not be contained in a box amd its truly an enigma to describe. He’s an absolute brute. He’s drawn blood on so many people I’ve lost track… so much on his brother that i fear he might become anemic. He also is the one that DEMANDS the most snuggles and kisses. His giant belly and bubble butt make his profile duck like. He is the life of that party and also is planning to end yours if you cross him. This is the best example of who my Hulk truly is. Connor had been constipated for a few days and finally he went. When I walked in to help clean him this was the conversation...
Connor: " You smell that mommy?"Me: " I sure do" Connor: " That's the smell of victory”. What possess a three year old to talk that way? I don’t know. Cool is just in his veins. To know Connor is to be thoroughly entertained.
Apart my children are perfect angels. Solo they are sugar plumbs wrapped in bubble gum dreams. But together they are gasoline and a lit match in a sea of firecrackers. They go from sitting nicely playing Avengers, to avenging what ever wrong the other had done to the other. We are talking fist fights, pinching, head locks and Connor’s personal favorite… face gouging. Logan literally has battle scars to prove. Logan expects certain guidelines while playing a serious game of action figures, Connor on the other hand has a motto of not giving two shits. They will fly if he wants, they will die if he wants and if Logan doesn’t like it he can get the fist. If Connor could he would happily be Logan’s shadow, or just be his living breathing clone. Yet, at the same time, his goal seems to make Logan go insane and to psychologically and physically destroy him. So you see he’s living in quite the conundrum and I get to bare witness and play referee.
An example of the changing tide: I bought a small purse today. One I intend on using on a daily basis. For mothers you understand what this means. This purse can fit two ninja turtles. Two ninja turtles, and four packs of gummies tops. Two ninja turtles, four packs of gummies and like three pokemon tops. From fitting diapers, wipes, passies, a change of clothes, and sippy cups to two ninja turtles, four pack of tummies, three pokemon and like one superhero that makes a huge difference. That means my children and I can function without bringing half the house with us. They don’t need much for survival… just toys to keep themselves occupied.
Life with children is less physically demanding than it was with babies. My body isn’t weighed down as often with a child on my hip, my tatas are now my own, even though I now tuck them into my belt. My schedule gets more hectic and my nights get less so. I squeeze them a little longer and a little tighter because I know my days with little children are numbered. But to me babies they will always be, even if today they were assholes.
