Mama always said… “life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
Well Forrest, in my house, life is a box of swinging dicks and if you don’t watch out, you might get slapped in the face. Literally.
I woke up the other day with my three year-old’s twig and berries resting on my cheek. There was nothing cute or memorable about it. Just straight-up junk in my face. He also left a nice, large piss puddle in his bed for me to clean up. So, being the good mother that I am, I clean up the hot mess that smells like Port Authority in August, and witness my six year-old, Connor, get up and triumphantly exclaim ‘Ta Dah!’ at what his nocturnal functions produced…
A giant erection.
He, of course, then requests I take a picture of it and post to Facebook. This is all before 7am.
I’m a girl. I don’t have a penis. I don’t understand the all encompassing obsession boys & men have with the outies down under. But it is very obvious to me, that it means a lot to them. While we were getting ready for bed, Bobby, my three year-old, said “Mommy… sometimes I like to put my hands in my pants and touch my wiener… and maybe, just maybe, SOMETIMES my balls…” like that part is only for fancy occasions.
It was a very thoughtful, matter of fact statement. A truly sharing moment. Girls don’t do this. I don’t ask what everyone would like for dinner and then yell “after years of breastfeeding, I can no longer feel my nipples.” Nobody wants to hear that. Bath time – or what I like to call genital origami time – is really much more interesting than what I have going on.
The bat, the brain and the weasel are all crowd favorites. And when you’re a little boy, everything is more fun when you’re naked.
Music playing… time to get naked. Wii turns on…. naked. Playing on the computer… naked. Dinner… naked. Apparently there is no occasion that’s off limits.
Maybe it’s because they are so focused on themselves, that I didn’t even think twice about covering up my fun-bags and the Sherwood Forest. This is, until recently, when Connor told Bobby that mommy doesn’t have a penis, but rather a butt that reaches from belly button to spine, and that daddy uses dog hair to keep his penis warm… especially when he comes out of the shower (their words, not mine, I swear!)
So. I’m thinking that sometime soon, me and my giant bilateral ass crack are going to have to go under wraps, even though I’ll still be given a daily front row seat to the midget remake of ‘The Full Monty.’
I like to tell myself that one day I’ll miss all of this tomfoolery. But who am I kidding. It won’t ever go away. Not even when they’re men.
Women who bring out the twins to get beaded at Mardi Gras are fun, but not funny. Naked men on the other hand, are just plain HILARIOUS.
So, I suspect that as my boys get older, holidays with our growing family will still include flashing, streaking and the ever-present mooning over dessert. Then they’ll all lie on the couch, my husband included, dozing off, wearing their ham pants with hands on jocks.
That is, quite simply, THE NAKED TRUTH.
Katie is your usual, run-of-the-mill, overworked and underpaid stay-at-home mom who refuses to leave the house without either puke or snot on her shirt. Which reminds me, stay-at-home mom is such a messed up term. I don’t know any primary care givers that stay at home. It’s more like livin-in-your-van mom…or waiting for karate-to-end dad or pretending I dont-get-McDonald-happy-meals- for dinner-as-often-as I-do mom.