This is not a post where I add a shiny filter to make our family look so #blessed and #ilovemykids. It’s a post where I expose (pardon the pun) a little bit about ourselves that may shock and disturb your sensibilities. But it should make you feel a little bit better about your own brood, assuming they keep their clothes on when appropriate.
We are a normal-ish family. I promise. We’re not “out there” about a lot of things and lead a fairly quiet lifestyle.
Today, I came home from a morning out with friends. I stopped on the way home to pick up a Euro-style lunch of meats and cheeses with some biscuits. I felt like spoiling my brood, because I had had an hour and a half ALL to myself, and boy, does that ever change your perspective?! So I walked into the kitchen with grocery bags, a song on my lips, and a smile on my face. I got the kiddos to the table, eating their lunches. They ate the blessed carrot sticks, and all was right with the world.
Until we smelled something. Something ominous. I started the rounds asking all of the toddlers which one had a diaper that needed changing. None of them ‘fessed up.
I had to get the biscuits out of the oven, so I stood up and walked 10 feet away. My oldest started walking around the table, pulling back diapers, and smelling the other kids’ butts.
“THAT IS NOT YOUR JOB! Do you think you’re the Mama, or something?” My voice was losing its I-just-had-alone-time-syrupy-sweetness.
Back to eating, with a little bit more concerted effort. I gave them cookies for finishing their food, something I never do.
When the nearly 4-year-old got up, I saw that he had wet himself at some point during the day. The oldest piped up that it was during a movie that they were watching. Being the motherly sort, I asked if the couch had gotten stained. No one answered.
“Go change your clothes.”
He went to his room and removed his wet pants and underwear. At some point he got distracted, and no new clothes were put on. He came out and started jumping around and wiggling and jiggling EVERYTHING that his Mama gave him out in the open.
“Mama, ********* is showing us his penis!” was the howl that erupted from the table. (Names removed to protect the guilty.)
In our house, indecent exposure has some consequences, because we have a house with three boys, and I want to teach them boundaries about consent and that No means No. So as I was addressing the perpetrator, the oldest went back to smelling everyone’s butts.
“Go downstairs and tell Daddy that you have to sit on your bed because you were smelling your brother and sister’s butts.”
I can only imagine how my husband tried hard to not smile at that one, as he worked in his home office.
The flasher was done with his consequence, and I instructed him to go put some pants on, for the love of Pete.
I got up, gave a cookie to my third son, at the table, for eating his carrot sticks so well.
And then I saw that my daughter, my toddler that I still think of as a baby, was peeking into the flasher’s bedroom to watch him while he changed his clothes.
I may or may not have hollered “THAT IS IT!” at this point. There goes that beautiful, well-rested mama mojo.
Three children were required to write apology notes.
One read “I’m sorry ***** and ******* for smelling your butts.”
The second read “I’m sorry *******, *******, and ***** for showing you my private parts.”
The third was a scribbled picture with “I’m sorry for watching you while you were getting dressed” written on it.
These apologies have been framed. I keep them near my home desk, lest I should ever think that I’ve got it all together.
