Living With Boys


***originally posted January 16, 2010

Something mysterious happens at my house on Saturday mornings.

I disappear.

It happens right after I get the usual good morning hugs and kisses. A plaintive “What about me?” interrupts the love fest and the boys tune in on their daddy.


The scramble of arms and legs move to the right side of the bed and I am left to rub the spots that were elbowed, stepped on and probably bruised.

Mommy goes unnoticed, to be summoned only when someone gets hurt and needs a kiss to feel better.

Sigh. I LOVE Saturday mornings. =D

I get to do whatever I want and there are no interruptions. Well, far less than usual. After all, how many times can three boys possibly get hurt in the space of a few hours? (I hope I don’t regret asking this question later.)

So I busy myself with inconsequential matters, and inadvertently float in and out of the following conversations:

Elijah: “I want some milk, please.”

Steve pours him a glass then pauses. He looks at the milk jug.

“Uh oh. We don’t have enough milk for pancakes.”

He looks over at his son. “Elijah, can I take that back? We don’t have enough milk to make pancakes.”

Elijah shakes his head.

“I’ll trade you two eggs with your bacon if you give it back.”

“Hmmm. That’s a hard choice…but I really want this milk.” He drinks slowly, mulling over the offer.

Steve shrugs and pours the last of the milk into the pancake mix.

His son bursts into tears.

“There’s no more milk! What happens if I want more after this?”

Suddenly, he notices my presence. “Mommy! Daddy hurt my feelings.”

I bend over and wipe the boy’s tears away. Then I give him a kiss.

Steve protests: “Yea? Who brought you chicken and pizza last night?”

Elijah pauses, fixing his tear-filled eyes on his father. A forgiving smile slowly transforms his face. All is well, and I am, once again, forgotten.

A few minutes later, I walk in on a nerf battle in my living room. I raise my voice over the din: “I just cleaned up!”

Elijah: “Daddy started it!”

Steve: “What! You started it next!”

I walk away, shaking my head.

Josiah yells at my retreating back: “We love you, Mommy!”

I should probably mention that the battle made it’s way up the stairs through the hallway and into the bedrooms. I hear a shout, then laughter. Josiah finds me cross-legged on my bed, reading.

“Daddy hit my neck.”

I reach over and rub the injured part.

“You ran toward me. It was your fault!”

“I did not. Hmp! Mommy, Daddy hurt me!”

I give him a kiss. He smiles then lifts his nerf gun. He aims at his dad, the battle continues.

Much later, a peculiar smell draws me into the kitchen. The blackened griddle is on the stove, littered with small burnt pieces of something I don’t recognize. I shiver and notice the open window. I turn around and see Steve sitting at the kitchen table: “Okay, what happened here? What did you burn?”

He doesn’t look at me: “What makes you think I burned something?”

He’s guilty and I figure it out instantly. He was off fighting nerf wars and forgot breakfast was on the stove…

We finally start eating and the conversation picks up. Josiah and Elijah start making up lyrics to familiar songs, and their dad ups the ante. He starts singing about their underwear (a sure hit at my house) to the tune of the Addam’s Family theme song.

Warning: parental guidance recommended


“They’re tighty but they’re stretchy,
Sometimes they make a wedgie,
It’s really, really funny,
Elijah’s underwear!

They’re artsy and they’re boxy
Sometimes they smell like fartsy
Sometimes they’re really stinky,
Josiah’s underwear!”

A pleasant Saturday to all.

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