I find it difficult to form the words that adequately define the smell that accompanies boys. This is something that all mothers with sons can attest to. Waking my boys up is usually a ritual of throwing open any window available, holding your breath until you’re almost at passing out point and even then it takes about 10minutes before it starts smelling like less of a fucking bio-hazard scene. 

I am severely outnumbered. Four to one … that’s some fucked up odds. What it comes down to is that having the toilet seat down is a unimaginable sight. Like getting to see a unicorn in it’s natural habitat, unimaginable . Knowing that if we were to put this to a vote, I’d lose, makes it a little pointless to bitch about taking a midnight dive, ass first, in your own piss.

The reality of having men of all ages and sizes in your house is that it’s a smelly business. Ajay (my four year old) literally pulls his fingers to fart. Xander (my nine year old) keeps his farts in until we get in the car. Then he lets them loose and some days it’s so bad I feel like I’m about to vomit after practically tasting his second hand dinner. 

Once I am accustomed to the smells,  there’s the mess. For some reason the male species has been ill-advised in the general purposes of most household items. For example, pissing in the toilet is optional.. clothing is merely to semi-cover the weird spots but it should under no circumstances fit. Mom’s toothbrush is like a young gay ass in prison’s general population … open to use by any one.  Farting on your brother’s pillow is as manditory as a pillow case. Clothing is meant to be everywhere, from the chairs, to the darkest parts of the unmade beds. From the tops of doors to the bathroom floors..and my personal favorite the corner BEHIND the washing basket. 

I swear if you were to ask my kids (all four of them) if they believed in fairies they would unanimously agree that they do. They believe they live in a house were clothing just magically picks itself up from every fucking corner of the house, decides that it’s in the mood for a bath and a tan in the sun and a folded up nap in the closets. The dishes go on spa trips to the magical land of Samsung and the mop is an enchanted flying machine that mom sometimes uses to fly to her friends, but mostly it lives for eating their spills. We even have magical carpets and countertops that has all filth dissappear during the night. 

I often wish I was a man. 

But then there are these fleeting moments that makes picking up 50 shades of underware worth it. Things like the coffie that Xander so dutifully brings me every morning. Or the compliments Ajay sneaks in when he is knee deep in shit. Or that adorable smile Oscar smiles after he has kept me awake most of the night. Loving your kids.. it’s instinctive. I might not like them all the time but my heart grows more with love every day. 

I have been blessed not only with three beautiful healthy boys but with three clean canvases to create and shape the better generation of men. 

I might not often remember this.. but I am thankful for the life I’ve been granted.

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