When I was pregnant with Little Man I swore he was a girl. Until I found out for sure, I even called him by the girl name we had picked out. I am not saying I wanted a girl, I just had this feeling. When I found out we were having a boy, I was more than relieved; I was not sure I could handle all the drama and emotion that it takes to raise a young women. When we were pregnant with The Babe I had no idea what the gender was and “hubs and I” (read: hubs) decided we were not going to find out. “It will be so fun to find out right as you are giving birth”. Maybe for hubs. I am way too much of a control freak to not know how to decorate the room. I also had issues just calling it baby. I needed to call it by its name….and not call it “it”! We got to the point in the pregnancy that hubs would not even consider missing a check up; he knew that I would be way to tempted to have the nurse do a quick scan and secretly tell me the gender; the man knows me well.
Fast forward four years later and I have three boys in the house including hubs. There is a lot of talk about body parts and smells, and more importantly, from where the smells are coming! I was dressing The Babe for school the other day while I was wearing my robe. Don’t get too excited men, this is the robe I think my mother in law gave me when I was still just dating hubs so you can imagine the appeal it has. Terry cloth, pockets, and a zipper. It has sexy written all over it. So I am in my “housecoat”, sitting cross legged on the floor with The Babe in front of me as I put on his socks. The Babe then points and says “Mommy’s Penis?” Trying not to laugh, I began to answer when I am cut off by Little Man; “No brother, Mommy doesn’t have a penis”. Not only was the comment funny, his tone caught my attention. It was as if Little Man felt so sorry for me, like I was somehow less fortunate than the men in the house. The Babe was curious and looked at me with a puzzled look; “You push it in?”. Now I am not able to contain my laughter. I simply tell The Babe that mommy doesn’t have a penis; beginning to feel some slight anxiety about how to distract them from the topic.
I swear if they were older I would tell them the truth; that they fall off the smart ones!
Brad and I determined this weekend that Mother’s Day is really Mother-In-Law day’; at least for us. Brad’s mom drove three hours to visit her Mother-in-law and Brad and I helped prepare Mother’s Day dinner for Brad’s mom. This dinner, like most special occasion dinners, took place at Brad’s mom and step-dad’s home. Don’t get me wrong; I certainly do not want to do it at my house, and I am more than happy to do it since this woman watches my boys and their two cousins every Monday. I know she does it because she enjoys it, but I also know it is not a picnic every week.
Before I actually visited a Hooter’s restaurant I would have thought the place was a brothel where dirty old men sat drooling at young buxom women while they serve frothy beer in cold mugs.
