Since my female kitty passed away in April, I am now the only girl in my house. I have a husband, two little boys, and a boy cat. The testosterone levels are through the frickin' roof. I'm constantly tripping over trucks, balls (ha), Legos, dinosaurs, anything you can think of that is boy. There is also a lot of urine at my house. Like, a lot.
“So this particular day, the truck pulls up and my toddler says, "oh, this asshole again."”
My three year old is finally completely out of diapers, day and night! Woot woot! Which means that, if he has an accident, there is pee everywhere. He has been doing great sleeping through the night without wetting, but he slept-in last Sunday morning and accidentally wet the bed. How much urine can a little, three year old bladder hold? Enough to destroy an entire bed, apparently. He was soaked, his stuffed animals were soaked, the covers, comforter - a total loss. Everything went in the washer and the crises was resolved with only a few tears and one big, "I'm sorry, Mommy." Sometimes, he is such a sweetheart it hurts.
Other times, he strips naked, walks into the shower, starts peeing and says, "look! I'm pissin'!" Ummmm? My husband and I simultaneously pointed fingers at one another, raised our eyebrows, and tilted our heads as if to say, "totally your fault." I guess this was not something either of us wanted to take credit for. We often find ourselves looking at our offspring and wondering how they got so cute, or smart, or funny, or kind, or awesome. We'd like to think it was a combination of good genes and good parenting from both of us, but we mostly know it is because of me. I grew them, I get to claim all of the good traits and point fingers at Dad when the child calls the delivery guy "really, really fat" or farts and tells me that he blew me a kiss.
* In my husband's defense, I don't know where my child learned to call someone "fat" and he quickly learned how unacceptable that is. Not in my husband's defense, he thinks the "blew you a kiss" thing is hilarious and I shoot fire from my eyes if this is said around me. Gross.
The only (?) thing that I can't blame on anyone else is when my child swears. If he drops an f-bomb during a Broncos playoff game when an airhead rookie drops the ball right before the end zone and misses the touch-down, totally my fault. Also, totally appropriate because f that guy, he cost us the game. AmIright? Not too long ago, we were in line at the Starbucks drive-thru when a truck pulled-up, towing a giant trailer. Given the tight turn to enter the drive-thru, you would expect this guy to go park his big-rig and walk inside for his coffee. But this guy never does - we see him a few times a week and the hysteria that ensues as he makes a 42-point turn to get into the drive-thru is hilarious. People behind him freak. So this particular day, the truck pulls up and my toddler says, "oh, this asshole again." It was like he opened his little mouth a my voice came out. Instead of correcting him, as he would just turn it around on me because CLEARLY he heard it somewhere (me, totally me), I just said, "totally buddy" and secretly hoped he wouldn't repeat it again. Fast forward a few days to our morning cartoon and oatmeal time. Toddler was climbing on the couch cushions and, I swear (ha), repeatedly saying, "asshole." I kept trying to decode his sentence and finally just said, "buddy, are you saying asshole?!?!" He finally screamed, "MOMMY, I AM IN A CASTLE!" Oh. So now I'm sure he knows asshole is a word and it is once again my fault. Oh well, I still correct him when he says "fart" instead of "toot" because I'm a good mom.