Friday, May 6, 2011

Bloody Mother's Day

I still feel weird being called a mom, let alone a mother.  Mother's day is for my mom, not me. Almost anyone can become of mom, but being a mother is a title that is earned. And although I am a mommy 4 times over ( 5 if you include our lab),it is only a part of me as a whole, not until you have raised your children do I believe you can consider yourself a true Mother.   But I do enjoy the nod of appreciation I get from my boys, even though I know they (Don) put together a gift at 9 pm the previous night or it was made by their teachers.
Being the mom of 4 boys has been quite eventful.
God must be a divine comedian when he gave me this "blessing".  I don't think he took into consideration that I have issues with blood, or maybe he did. Ha! Good one Yahweh!   I don't like lacerations or anything associated with plasma.  When I had my first son, it is protocol to place the baby on their mother's chest immediately after birth. I politely asked them to clean him off first. I was ok with the cheese, just not the blood.  The choice was, have me pass out, or clean him and have me coherent.
As I was making dinner last night I sent Jack out in the backyard to blow some bubbles. Within 2 min. I hear a scream outside. A few years ago I would have rushed out of the house, but in this case I just kept on cooking.  I then remembered that he was outside alone... well, if its bad enough he will come in. As I heard his cries getting louder I knew he was on his way in.  I figured he had spilled his bubbles.   When he came in the door he showed me his finger with blood running down his hand.  I Scream! * Someday I will realize this only escalates thier emotions, but it freaks me out too.  Don isn't home. Ok. stay calm I tell myself as I rush him to the bathroom to wash off his bloody stump.  As its running under the water he tells me that he was bit. Bit? By what? Is there a dog on the lose?  Is there a brave squirrel? No, he was bit by the brick wall.  I didn't ask him to elaborate, because I didn't want anything he said to be evidence that all the bumps to his head really have caused a slight retardation.
 Thankfully the blood washed away long enough for me to put a band-aid on his 1/4 inch cut and send him back outside.  I really wish my grandfather would have invented band-aids. We would be rich.
The other boys arrived home and with in moments of entering the door I notice that they are a mess, I'm starting to wonder if they acutally go to school or just roll around in a sand pit all day.  Earlier that day Jack had shown me that he had eaten a mouthful of sand that a boy had thrown at him. He had dirt in his teeth.
I instruct them to wash thier hands for dinner, but does it really matter when they look like the came out of a Chilean coal mine? Don walks in with his 5 o'clock shadow-beard and a coffee stain on his shirt as well as an unidentified ketchup stain, which is funny because there wasn't ketchup in the lunch I packed him......( Evidence A. he is cheating on my lunch with McDonalds value meals)
Dinner at our house consists on massive food consumption They have inherited their fathers hollow leg, designed specifically for food storge.  The boys go in fazes that I have broken down to a science.
Ages 1-2 they eat pretty much anything.
Ages 2-3  Complex Carb superabundance , anything not a carb is offensive.
Ages 3-4 Protien Party, anything meat, is fair game, cheese, nuts, anything not a protien is offensive.
Ages 5+ Anything is fair game... unless it is a mushroom or a "chinese" noodle...word on the street is that its cool to NOT like something, even if you unknowling eat it in pizza and whenever I make speghetti.
Sugar is the only consistant thing in their diet.
After dinner the boys are instructed to take showers.  They each have their own loofa and are instructed to start from top to bottom and scrub until in kind of hurts.
Finegan was the last to shower and he called out for me.  I could tell he was worried by the inflection of his "mooommmeeey?"  He came down completely naked and asked me to look at his weiny. ( his words, not mine) He said it hurt, I said, I'm sure its fine, he then pulled a portion of skin back and I screamed when I saw blood.  This caused him to start crying and he asked " what's wrong with it?" " I don't know!?, I don't have a penis! Go ask your daddy!" He frantically ran to Don for the inspection.  Besides blood, penis's are a mystery to me. It was just a week ago that one of the boys showed me that he could push it back in, which horrified and scarred me.  Turns out he wasn't cleaning it properly and there was some skin adherance going on. How would I know that? Especially since I had nothing to do with the care of their circumsitions. It just creeped me out.
I don't think grown men remember what they put their mom's through..or maybe mine are just very open with their bodies?
Regardless, if you are a man,  chances are your mom has seen you inside and out, brought you down a notch and built you back up.
When my mom is gone ( hopefully not for another 35 years) I will be given the true Mother's day title. And when I am,  I want my 40 something son's give me one thing for mother's day..  to come home clean, un-bloody gentleman and tell me that they are happy. Authentically happy.  Thats it, and all the blood dirt and tears will have been worth it.

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