Oh Boy(s)

Oh boy, I am raising three boys. This has presented a few challenges. The biggest problem with bringing up three little men is that, well, I'm a girl!

I have no experience being a boy. I don't understand how they think. I grew up with only brothers but that doesn't even really seem to be helpful.

Boys are gross. They just are. Fuzzy regularly brings his boogers to me on his finger and wants me to take care of it. EWWW, Fuzzy boogers are gross, put it in a kleenex and throw it in the trash. We do not need a show and tell. Fuzzy is also my bug collector and has even tasted a few. Little Bear insists on eating his lunch in three bites or less. I have never seen a little girl chow down like a little boy. Breathe boy, breathe. Wee One is still in the early stages of grossness and it is not as obvious as it is with his brothers.

Boys are weird. Yesterday I was changing Fuzzy's diaper and he had himself a little baby ummm..."tall friend" and was asking about it when Little Bear walked by and informed me that his penis does that sometimes too - when it gets tired of just hanging down all the time and if he plays with it a little bit it does that.....ummm...OK.

Boys are crazy. I have seen plenty of little girls with lots of energy but I'm sorry little ladies you can not compare to the non stop rhythm of a young boy. All day long they go, go, go. I'm down to only one that actually has a nap in the day so there isn't much down time around here. I am completely exhausted with chasing them all day long.

Boys play different than girls too. I have never turned my sandwich crust into any kind of vehicle and drove it around the table making motor noises. It amazes me at how many different items I have seen turned in to cars, trucks, tractors, and airplanes. Geez, it's a sippy cup kid, not a city bus.

Having all boys has some advantages. It is easier to pick out my pink and purple clothes out of the basket of folded laundry. Nobody will be borrowing my clothes or shoes as they get older (well, I guess this isn't really a guarantee but less likely than if I had daughters). We use less toilet paper (no need to wipe when you can shake). Nobody in my household will ever come home and tell me they are pregnant. I don't have to worry about vacuuming up Barbie shoes. There are no crying, peeing, pooping dolls kicking around (just actual kids that do those things).

Raising boys has posed it's share of challenges but it has certainly been entertaining so far as I'm sure it will continue to be. Lord give me the strength to endure. I'm raising three boys, oh boy.

Sports, Sports, Sports...

Papa Bear loves his sports. He watches them on TV. He watches them in person. He plays a few. He reads about them. Heck, he probably even dreams about them. I, on the other hand would rather chew on a rock.

His favourite sport to watch on TV is hockey. I can stand to watch a bit of this sport, usually in the last period when all the important stuff happens. He watches Football, Baseball, Bowling, Tennis (yawn) and Golf (double yawn). He also watches Curling on TV. I can not stand to watch this "sport" for more than about 30 seconds. I usually spend that 30 seconds wondering what kind of whacked out "sport" calls each round an "end" when in fact they are no where near the actual "end" of the game.

I may not really consider Curling a real sport but I did try it twice and it isn't as easy as it looks. I ended up with a pulled groin muscle and a giant bruise on my knee. Curling is Papa Bear's "winter sport". He loves it and devotes one to two nights a week to this "sport".

Papa Bear's "summer sport" is baseball. Technically he is a member of a baseball team but I haven't really seen him actually play in a game for more than a few innings. Usually he just stands by a base and makes hand gestures at the batters. He's either telling them to bunt or to eat s@*# and die. Either way he's not going to hit any home runs standing out there. I sometimes go to the ballpark to support the team but rarely to see Papa Bear play. I used play baseball until I took a ball to the head resulting in a concussion and bruised brain. The doctor said if I was going to continue to play I had to wear a batting helmet in the outfield...forget that, I quit!

I used to Figure Skate for years. I skated from about age six up until I found out I was pregnant with Little Bear. Oh how I miss it but I still enjoy lacing up to skate on our homemade ice rink in the yard in the winter even with the bumpy, uneven ice and occasional deep crack. Figure Skating is one of the few sports Papa Bear does not watch or take part in.

The only sport Papa Bear and I participate in together is Bowling. Though I don't like to watch Bowling on TV I do enjoy playing the game. Bowling is also where Papa Bear and I met each other for the first time many, many moons ago. After about a ten year rest from the sport for me and about fifteen for Papa Bear, we joined an adult league with some friends. Papa Bear is a little bit better than me - but don't tell him I said that.

Soccer is the only sport that nobody in our household plays, watches or even really talks about. Apparently if you are a baseball player Soccer is the devil. I don't really know too much about this but I do have a Soccer ball hanging from the rear view mirror of my van but that is kind of a inside joke.

Living with four males, I should probably get used to the channel being set to some sort of sport whether I like it or not. All I can say is thank goodness we have more than one TV in this house. I'm sure it won't be long before Papa Bear has three more "men" to help him chant, "sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports...SPORTS!"

The T.P. Experiment

A week or so ago I went into the bathroom to use the toilet (just to clarify, I have done this several times since as well) and found that the toilet paper roll on the holder was empty. There was a half roll sitting on top of the empty roll. There was a half roll sitting on the back of the toilet and an empty roll on the floor in front of the toilet.

What the heck??? Really Papa Bear? There is a garbage can right there under the holder so there was no reason for the empty roll on the floor. Apparently there was a need for a second half roll sitting on the empty holder because the roll on the tank was a whole reach around away?

It was at this point that I decided that I was NOT going to replace the roll either and see what happens. For a couple of days, nothing. The same collection of empty and half rolls. Then this morning I went in to have my morning piddle and low and behold, I almost fell off the damn throne, there on the holder was a brand new roll safely secured in its place.

By golly he can do it! I'm so proud.

Now that we have tackled the toilet paper my next mission is getting Papa Bear to pick up his underwear off the bathroom floor after he is done in the shower. Training a man really requires some patience. We made some real progress this week. Baby steps, baby steps.