I love my sons, I do. Most of the time they are a source of great joy to me. When Hubby and I first discussed the possibility of our future children we determined we wanted 2 boys for reasons I don't remember now (so they obviously weren't very important). When our first child was born and we discovered we had a daughter, she was all we wanted. When our second daughter was born my dad said, (with some amount of pride) "I had two girls." When our third daughter was born we were happy, and done. I have learned that one should never tell God what it is he or she will or will not be doing....such as having more children. I had decided I was done. The Lord disagreed. One month after Hubby's vasectomy consultation I discovered I was pregnant. One month after I discovered I was pregnant I came to terms with the fact that I was pregnant. One week after I came to terms with the fact that I was pregnant I became happy that I was pregnant. One month after I became happy that I was pregnant I discovered I was having twins. One day after I discovered I was having twins I discovered they were boys. And the cycle repeated. I was happy I was having my 2 boys.
Every one I spoke to about having boys assured me "boys are easier," "boys are fun!" "boys don't have the emotional hang-ups girls do," "boys are better sleepers". Each one of these statements are true to some extent. But these people forgot to mention that the REASON boys are easier, more fun, devoid of emotional hang-ups, and better sleepers is because they DON'T USE THEIR BRAINS! My boys aresmart intelligent. Buddy #1 figured out the Internet at 3 years old. Buddy #2 could tell me that S-T-O-P spelled "stop" at barely 4. But having a brain and using it are two completely different things.
My boys are sweet. They love their Mama. They love to give me hugs and kisses and promise me the world. They don't mean to be bad, most of the time I'm sure they don't even realize they're doing it....okay, yes they do. But I would like to think they don't. As my mother so eloquently put it one time concerning Buddy #1, "He's not intentionally disobeying, he just doesn't think you're talking to him." Such a time as this came yesterday.
The weather was looking bad and we had been issued a severe thunderstorm warning and a tornado watch. I had asked the kids to stay inside just to be safe and, silly me, assumed they were obeying. Feeling a little worn out from the day I decided to flake out on the couch with one of my girls and catch an episode of Cake Boss (her favorite). All of a sudden, a scene with the large, loud, Italian family having an argument was overshadowed by the bloodcurdling screams of one little boy. The kind of screams one would only expect to hear in cases of witnessing a violent death or dismemberment. I leaped from my spot with no regard to the daughter sitting on my lap (I'm fairly certain she landed upright on the floor) and raced to the basement steps. As I passed the kitchen I noticed the back door open and children OUTSIDE. I flew to the door but the screams weren't coming from the renegades in the back yard. I was angry they had disobeyed, but I would deal with them later. Again I headed for the basement where my sweet, poor, injured, or horrified..but obedient child was suffering. I got to the top of the stairs and realized the screams were not coming from the basement either. Now I was distressed and angry...he was injured, he was suffering, but he was NOT obedient.
The only place left to look was the front yard. I bolted to the front door, yanked it open, and saw Buddy #1 standing at the top of our outdoor steps leading to the basement covered in wet gravel. I ran to him and scooped him up in my arms. Discipline would come later, I first had to make sure my baby was okay. I checked all of his fingers and toes for protruding bones and blood. I checked his head and found a slight goose bump. His shoulder now sported and nice scrape and bluish bruise. His elbow was adorned with embedded gravel but no more serious injuries than that. After the screaming subsided I asked, as calmly as possible, what happened.
He response started as usual....."It was all a stupid idea.." (Where does he get these things?!?!)
Then he said he simply fell down the basement steps. Nothing is simple with Buddy #1...there is always more to the story. With a little more probing I found out he had emptied his toy bin and rolled down the basement steps inside of it.. a la Niagara Falls in a Barrel. I gave him the usual You Need to Obey for Your Own Safety speech he'd heard (but not listened to) a million times before and told him to get downstairs so we could shower off the gravel and clean his wounds. My daughter who I had so gracefully dumped on the floor moments earlier asked if she could help clean him up. (She is our mini-Mama. She loves taking care of the "little ones" as she calls them). I told her to sit with him in the bathroom while I got a towel. As I left the room I heard her question her little charge, "Why on earth did you do that, Buddy?"
He replied tearfully, "I wanted to do something 'extreme' so I could be on TV."
After he was bathed and dressed and tucked snugly in his little bed I kissed his cheek and said, "I love you my Buddy. I'm glad you're alright....and you are never watching TV again."
Every one I spoke to about having boys assured me "boys are easier," "boys are fun!" "boys don't have the emotional hang-ups girls do," "boys are better sleepers". Each one of these statements are true to some extent. But these people forgot to mention that the REASON boys are easier, more fun, devoid of emotional hang-ups, and better sleepers is because they DON'T USE THEIR BRAINS! My boys are
My boys are sweet. They love their Mama. They love to give me hugs and kisses and promise me the world. They don't mean to be bad, most of the time I'm sure they don't even realize they're doing it....okay, yes they do. But I would like to think they don't. As my mother so eloquently put it one time concerning Buddy #1, "He's not intentionally disobeying, he just doesn't think you're talking to him." Such a time as this came yesterday.
The weather was looking bad and we had been issued a severe thunderstorm warning and a tornado watch. I had asked the kids to stay inside just to be safe and, silly me, assumed they were obeying. Feeling a little worn out from the day I decided to flake out on the couch with one of my girls and catch an episode of Cake Boss (her favorite). All of a sudden, a scene with the large, loud, Italian family having an argument was overshadowed by the bloodcurdling screams of one little boy. The kind of screams one would only expect to hear in cases of witnessing a violent death or dismemberment. I leaped from my spot with no regard to the daughter sitting on my lap (I'm fairly certain she landed upright on the floor) and raced to the basement steps. As I passed the kitchen I noticed the back door open and children OUTSIDE. I flew to the door but the screams weren't coming from the renegades in the back yard. I was angry they had disobeyed, but I would deal with them later. Again I headed for the basement where my sweet, poor, injured, or horrified..but obedient child was suffering. I got to the top of the stairs and realized the screams were not coming from the basement either. Now I was distressed and angry...he was injured, he was suffering, but he was NOT obedient.
The only place left to look was the front yard. I bolted to the front door, yanked it open, and saw Buddy #1 standing at the top of our outdoor steps leading to the basement covered in wet gravel. I ran to him and scooped him up in my arms. Discipline would come later, I first had to make sure my baby was okay. I checked all of his fingers and toes for protruding bones and blood. I checked his head and found a slight goose bump. His shoulder now sported and nice scrape and bluish bruise. His elbow was adorned with embedded gravel but no more serious injuries than that. After the screaming subsided I asked, as calmly as possible, what happened.
He response started as usual....."It was all a stupid idea.." (Where does he get these things?!?!)
Then he said he simply fell down the basement steps. Nothing is simple with Buddy #1...there is always more to the story. With a little more probing I found out he had emptied his toy bin and rolled down the basement steps inside of it.. a la Niagara Falls in a Barrel. I gave him the usual You Need to Obey for Your Own Safety speech he'd heard (but not listened to) a million times before and told him to get downstairs so we could shower off the gravel and clean his wounds. My daughter who I had so gracefully dumped on the floor moments earlier asked if she could help clean him up. (She is our mini-Mama. She loves taking care of the "little ones" as she calls them). I told her to sit with him in the bathroom while I got a towel. As I left the room I heard her question her little charge, "Why on earth did you do that, Buddy?"
He replied tearfully, "I wanted to do something 'extreme' so I could be on TV."
After he was bathed and dressed and tucked snugly in his little bed I kissed his cheek and said, "I love you my Buddy. I'm glad you're alright....and you are never watching TV again."
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Mary-Lou