Boys Suck

It mostly sucks living with boys. It's not necessarily all the testosterone and frequent F-bombs (Grayson), it's just the all-around disgustingness and incessant, never-ending whining (Grover). Nobody else cares about tanning or HGTV. I'm the only one who loves Channing and hasn't hit my head today.

For those of you with high-maintenance girls hanging around, you must think I'm nuts. I get it. You're probably sick to death of hair bows and tutus, ringlets and barbies. I'm sure all the pink pictures, tea parties, toy kitchens and stuffed animals really sends you to the edge of insanity. Puh-lease. I just got jacked in the head with a toy van. Get over yourself.

There is piss everywhere. No place is off-limits for urine apparently. One baby with a 3 inch wee-wee consistently out-pees the most durable diaper. One two year old drinks 47 glasses of milk/juice/ water a day and is somewhere between embarrassed of his diaper dependency and actually using the facilities properly without jumping off mid-stream. And then there is the 37 year old husband who needs his own set of toilet rings.

In our house, all play is rough and dangerous. The boys just finished up a wholesome game of "throw the ball at each other's face". And now I'm watching the father of my children teach my 7 month old how to bitch slap his brother. And they laugh. Hysterically.

You gotta stay on your toes in this loving home. Around every corner there is an 81% chance someone is hiding to scare you...creating more opportunities for unwanted urine spots.

Oh God, the smell of poo. It never goes away. That's all I'm gonna say about that cause I might cry.

There's lots of yelling, running, crying, whining, hitting and biting. Nobody ever smells good (with the exception of my husband when he's trying to get some). They all sit in the dirt and play with bugs. They track mud on my clean floor and leave a trail of toys and dirty clothes in their path. At least one shoe in every closet has dog shit caked on the bottom and, you guessed it, we own 0 dogs. Furniture is always flipped over. A new bruise is proudly formed every hour. And nobody can EVER find a FLIPPING THING without asking me for help.

Do I love them? Yes. Mostly. They're cute and they make me laugh. Do I think I'm gonna make it another 18 years? Nope. Not a chance. But I'm sure they'll kill each other way before that.