Because I'm a boy-mom, I'm often the only fully clothed person in our house. I'm also the only one who thinks that a new school year calls for new clothes. Or underwear.
Once a pair of tennis shoes gets wet, there is little hope that it will ever smell non-toxic again.
Someone should invent glow-in-the-dark Legos.
Generally speaking, my boys' days were "fine," "good," or "OK." Nothing more. Apparently the only thing that happened the whole school day worth talking about was lunch. And what they ate. And how much they ate. And how good it was. I would consider this to be an excellent amount of communication...if I hadn't packed their lunches.
I have found that it takes less than 24 hours for a boy to wear a hole in the knee of his jeans, outgrow his shoes or eat an entire package of Oreos. It takes forever for a boy to clean out a toy box.
Grubby and tired is better than clean and bored.
I do not unload groceries.
When a boy asks "What's for dinner?" before he eats breakfast, he's going through a growth spurt.
Also, boys believe after-school snacks are absolutely necessary. Showers are not.
I've learned that if you can beat them at playing anything - hide & seek, Clue, tossing a ball in a trash can, eating ice cream the fastest - they will revere you. Boys respect skills.
Farting is funny.
Boys thrive on praise. Days, months, even years later my boys have unexpectedly quoted a compliment they received. Their bodies may be in constant motion, but their minds - and hearts - hear every word.
Wrestling is a form of affection.
If you accidentally bump their momma's cheek and give her a black eye, they will threaten to "smash in your face." This is also affection.
The difference between a good day and a bad day is one good buddy.
Bedtime is the best. Bravado is gone, they smell like Axe body wash, and they're unashamed to hug their mom extra tight before rolling over to dream of conquering the world.
I just love being a boy-mom.