Guest Post: I Am a Mom

Awhile ago I shared with you what I was praying for. I wanted a woman to take the role of mentor in my life. I listed a bunch of things that I was looking for, but didn’t expect anything to come of it because I was asking for too much. Of course I wasn’t (silly, stubborn me!), because a woman who was better than my description showed up.

Through a whole series of wonderfully orchestrated events, Jan and I met, connected and became Sunday School teaching partners before realizing that we were oddly similar. We went out for coffee one night to talk about church stuff, and talked about everything but church stuff. After a blabbering rant of mine she said, “I feel like I’m listening to myself ten years ago.” I knew that this was THE WOMAN God had placed in my life. I awkwardly asked her if she’d be willing to be a mentor type person to me, and she said yes. I have a mentor, whom I call Mom Friend.

Mom Friend has awesome kids and a bearded husband. She’s a leader, she’s committed to serving, she’s a teacher, she prays for me, she gives me advice, she’s hilarious, she’s laid back, she’s feisty, and she thinks farts are hilarious.

I asked her to write a guest post for me because her Facebook status updates are proof enough that she’s hilarious in writing. After reading this, I’m sure you’ll understand why I like this woman so much. Without further ado, I present you with my Mom Friend.

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I am a mom.
A mom of four.
Four boys.

No, it was not an accident.
We are not Catholic.
We weren’t trying for a girl.

Believe it or not, we really wanted four kids. And if I am really honest, I was hoping the last baby was another boy. Add my husband into the mix and I am the lone female in a house of 5 boys.

Here’s a confession: sometimes when store clerks or parents at the park comment with some variation of “wow, three boys – are they all yours?” I respond with a cagey “yes” and then add,“I have one more, but he’s in school” just for kicks.

Traveling around with a double stroller and a boy or two hanging on to the sides garners curious looks.  I can see people quickly eyeball everyone to check for family resemblances.  I have been asked if I do home childcare as I schlep my brood back and forth to school.

Our food budget has increased exponentially with the birth of each boy and now with each new friend they bring home. We have a linen closet in the basement that has been repurposed into what I call our “food bunker”. I shudder to think of our grocery bill in about 2 more years.

Playtime with boys is not quite what I expected getting into this gig.  Someone is always getting eaten by a monster or thrown into jail.  Weapons appear out of thin air.   However, when I play dinky cars, mine always stops for a nice long latte break. I kill at Hide and Seek, but that’s mostly for the few moments of alone time it brings.

Living with 5 boys means you need to embrace your inner toilet humour.  Thankfully, I was blessed with more than my fair share.  I can burp on command and before correcting the faux pas of passing gas in public, I usually offer up a heart-felt “good one!”

Where else but in a household of 5 boys will you walk up the stairs to discover a toddler cleaning his privates with a toothbrush? Have someone brag about how he can stop peeing mid-stream? Be asked if you’d like to see the “L” someone just pooped? Discover someone has covered his penis with stickers?

One more confession: I am a big fat hypocrite.  While I tell the boys quite self-righteously, “things will go easier for you if you just tell the truth”, half-truths (okay, full out lies) slide deftly off my tongue…

I don’t know who ate the rest of the M&Ms.
I’m eating a carrot stick, I don’t know why you smell chocolate.  Weird.
Coronation Street is the “news”.
I think your fish is just really tired.
I know he licked it, but I wiped it off, it’s fine.
Don’t worry, I caught the cookie before it hit the floor.
I’ll be there in a minute.

Some days I question the wisdom of having 4 kids close together, particularly when there is an unholy amount of bodily fluids.  But then someone will ask me to play Lego….offer me a serving of invisible soup…give me a magic wand he made just for me….tell me I am as pretty as a princess….yeah….

I may be the lone female in this asylum I call home, but that’s fine by me.

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See? Isn’t she awesome?
Oh, and Jan, I think you meant to say “peemis”.