Let it rip!

Reid, who is 20 months old, laughed the other day when he farted. After I joined in on his giggle, not because his fart was funny, but because he was funny for laughing, I realized some fart/laugh combination must be carried in the Y-chromosome. How does he know that farting is funny? We didn't teach him that - not yet at least. He also laughs when he burps. We've taught Parker to say, "excuse me," after he burps or farts - like a gentleman would - so now he laughs, and then says, "excuse me."

Bodily functions and I go way back. I know every woman has fart and burp stories, but the men in my past, I believe, had more vulgar bodily functions than most. In fact, growing up with a step-father and 3 brothers who lead the parade for the, "let it fly" philosophy of releasing bodily gases, set a precedent of "maleness" that no one, thankfully, has been able to match. Bathroom doors were never closed, and toilets were rarely flushed. I had to share a 5x4 foot bathroom with my 3 brothers and wore flip-flops while I showered because the bathroom scared me. When Mark and I moved in together I was shocked at how clean he was! He shut the toilet lid after use and actually used the bathroom door for its intended purpose! I was thrilled and constantly remarked about how clean and neat he was. His reply was, "Steph, you grew up with overly disgusting men, my cleanliness is considered normal." Wow, what a wake up that was! You mean, not all men fart, role up the car windows, lock the doors, and turn on the heater full blast?! Or, you mean, not all men fart, sit on the nearest person’s head, and hold their arms down?! Phew! I had arrived to true adulthood.

So here I am with two boys of my own - two boys who will fart and burp, and then laugh. But this time around, I get to teach them, or mandate rather, that they flush the toilet, use the bathroom door, say, “excuse me,” after they fart or burp, and not torture me for entertainment. I’m pleased I have some control. So the next time one of the boys, “let’s one rip.” I’ll join in on the giggle, not because they’re laughing, but because farting and burping is funny!

He's a pirate! Oh wait, he's an astronaut! Uh, wait again, he's a football player!

Every morning at 7am Parker's stoplight alarm clock changes from red to green, giving him “the green light” to get out of bed.  He springs out of bed and begins his first morning routine, which is putting on some sort of costume.  At any time of the day he could be a pirate, police officer, fireman, astronaut, football player, chef, construction worker or a combination of the above; sometimes he’s a football player/construction worker, or a fireman/pirate. 

After dressing himself in some flavor of costume, he packs his backpack with whatever costume he’s feeling a second connection with but cannot wear, gathers up his entourage of stuffed animals, and heads out, ready to start his day.  He then barrels down the hallway bumping the walls with a pirate sword or football helmet, enters our bedroom, arms brimming with stuffed animals and costume props, and I think “How can a 4 year old need so much STUFF?”!  This is what he tells me when I ask: “Mommy, I NEED my fire boots, and measuring spoons, in case anything comes up.”  I find myself wanting to go clean the fridge, or clean out my purse – just the sight of all of his “stuff” makes me want to simplify my life.  It’s like watching the show “Hoarders” makes you want to go in your closet and get rid of clothes you haven’t worn in a year, or go out to the garage and purge. 

I used to be like my son.  I carried a purse, before kids, chock full of everything I “might” need.  I thought that I might need a Band-Aid, or a sewing kit while I’m out.  If anyone needed Advil or hand sanitizer, they knew where to find it – in my purse.  Today, things are different.  The older I get, the simpler I want my life to be.  But is a simple life an oxymoron when you have kids?  Even if it’s unattainable, I strive for a simpler life nonetheless.  I find myself making more lists, doing more meal planning, putting every detail of every day into my calendar so that I feel organized.  When I leave the house without kids, as seldom as that is, I bring my wallet and phone.  I feel naked without my “stuff,” but it also feels liberating.  I often need reminding to do more things like, leave the kitchen sink at home when running to 7-11.  I can only hope to face everyday with ease and calm, and maybe working on simplifying the little things is the answer.  I can dream, can’t I?!