Danielle Jefferson is a tell-it-like-it-is kind of mom who knows that parenting is hard…but tequila helps. When she’s not looking for her next margarita, she stays at home and moms the heck out of her kids (sometimes more successfully than others). She blogs about the less glamorous side of parenthood over at Things Carter Says… You can also join the fun on Facebook page or follow her on Twitter @CandGsMom.
300 matchbox cars
21 fire trucks
15 police cars
11 dump trucks
4 backhoes
3 big rigs
And one truck that seems to be some sort of ambulance with a claw thing in the front, twelve sirens, and monster truck tires…also, it turns into a robot.
If my children receive any more cars or trucks, we’ll have to move to a bigger house where we can dedicate a wing to anything on wheels.
What the hell does a mom have to do to get a Barbie up in here?
Oh yeah, she’d have to have girls. Which I don’t. I have two boys. I have a husband. I even have two male dogs. Mine is the sole vagina in this house.
When I got pregnant, I was going to have a girl. I knew it. In fact, I was only going to have girls. I was just meant to. I love doing hair and nails and going shopping. I am one big package of girly girl wrapped up with a huge bow… a pink one, of course.
And then the baby came out. And it was a boy. And I was shocked.
Oh my god! Who am I going to go wedding dress shopping with?
But it was okay, because this was only my first baby. My next baby would be a girl. My husband promised me my next baby would be a girl (He’s a lying bastard, by the way).
My second child was, of course, another boy. And then I was surrounded. I was drowning in blue.
There went my dreams of ever getting mother/daughter manicures. I will never own the Barbie dream house. And I will forever have to slow down for a better look if I’m driving by a construction site.
And guess what? I love every second of it.
Well, except for that second when the boys smeared an entire tube of diaper rash cream on the mirror in my bedroom. That second sucked. But , I mean, other than that? Love it. I love their energy and dirty little faces and their backwards baseball caps. I love that they pick flowers for me and play tag with me and ask me every night to sing them, ”Summer Wind” by Frank Sinatra, because that is our song.
I am absolutely amazed at how fully content I am being a mom of boys.
There are some things you can only experience with little boys.
Just the other night, they called me into the bathroom excitedly yelling “Look, Mom! We’re making an X!” And they were, in fact, making an X. Into the toilet. With their pee.
See? That is something moms of girls will never get to witness.
I no longer think boys are wild crazy mud magnets. I KNOW they are. And I think they’re awesome little guys.
Plus, I can still borrow the daughters of my friends and take them shopping for doll accessories and braid their hair…and return them when they start to get crabby.
And that’s what I like to call the best of both worlds.
