The Family Life

I had been a single mom since my youngest was two. Until about four years ago, it was just the three of us against the world... sort of. Maybe more them against me. If they could get into it, whatever it was, they did. I woke up one morning to find the entire contents of my fridge behind my couch and my son telling me he was trying to make breakfast. I’m not sure how he was trying to make breakfast behind the couch or what he was making, but it didn’t work out. Two hours and a lot of elbow grease later, the disaster was taken care of by yours truly.

Fun times right?

My daughter was a little less mischievous; it was my son I worried about more. He decided my daughter needed to play a game on my laptop and dropped it in the tub with her, painted his entire hand in metallic purple nail polish, and soaked my 52-inch TV in water trying to help me clean. I know you’re wondering why metallic purple and I have no clue... It was a very tacky phase that didn’t last long at all, hence why his entire hand was coated in it.

If there was trouble, he was in it. Still is and he’s now ten.

Fast forward a few years and I meet my future husband who also has custody of his two children... two boys, mind you, who were just as much up to no good as my son. Seriously, they’re like fire and gasoline, Pepsi and milk, and anything else that causes a negative reaction when mixed.

I seriously cannot make this stuff up.

There are penises drawn all over my windows and they’ve figured out how to fold towels and pillow cases into penis shapes! They are penis-obsessed and my husband just laughs when I become incredulous!

Then there’s the farts. Why and where or when do boys learn to fart anywhere at anytime regardless of consistent reminders of good manners and the disgustingness of farts?

I can’t handle this.

Ever sat on a toilet seat full of urine? I have and I hate it! Every. Time. And no one did it. No one ever does it. Four males in this house and none of them are peeing on the seat, down around the bowl, the floor, and sometimes the wall, so I guess my daughter has learned some new trick designed to drive me insane. The amount of urine I clean in a day would make you sick. I swear it.

When does it end?

Did I mention the farts? And the jokes about the farts? And all day long it’s loud ridiculous vines and dank memes and weird noises that would make one who may be religious think they’re possessed and are they?!

If they’re not at school or playing their games, they’re in my face asking me things like whether or not I fart or if they can go and build a fort at Walmart. No, they don’t want to build snowmen, just forts in various stores until they get caught and or kicked out. Aspirations, people, and those are theirs right now.

So a few weeks ago, a window in our boys' bedroom broke... from the inside. Two of them come down stairs, shocked and wide-eyed, claiming there’s something wrong with this house as a window just exploded for no reason. They were just sitting quietly, innocently watching TV, when all of a sudden... bam! Window breaks. That was the story, anyway. My husband and I know somethings up because... experience, and we don’t buy their spontaneously busted window jargon for nothing. Still trying to figure out what happened, my daughter decided to enlighten us. So and so at school overheard one of the boys explain to another child what exactly happened and the story goes like this... My son threw his fidget spinner at the window earlier in the day and broke it. No one heard it and they didn’t get caught so they concocted this unlikely tale in the hopes that it would keep them from becoming grounded. It was a few weeks before Christmas and because they were afraid my son wouldn’t get anything at all as punishment, they lied. Honestly, though, they really could’ve come up with a better story.

Before that was the park incident. They trashed the park and came back telling us that some younger kids did it and they merely stood by and watched. That was not the case. After an angry older gentlemen showed up at our door shaking his fist, we finally got the real scoop. Not only did they trash the park which made the news, but they trashed his pool too. He threatened the police and we agreed that if there was a next time then by all means...

They are ten, thirteen, and fourteen. I have years left of this. Help.

There’s so much more though! We can no longer take them all shopping. It’s too much and not good for neither mine nor my husband's mental health. The last time we all walked into a Walmart, while we were looking around, one grabbed some melons and proceeded to press them against his chest telling people to check out his melons, one grabbed ahold of some luggage and began running around in circles screaming “NOBODY CARES,” and the other started rearranging shelves repeating “yaaaassss” all while my daughter stood and watched.

My daughter is like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dismal day. Don’t get me wrong, she has her moments, but she is fresh air!

They dress our dogs up in shorts and t-shirts and chase them around the house. The dogs like the fun but hate the clothes.

Seriously?! When does it end??

Being a blended family is a challenge in and of itself but when you throw these three boys into the mix, it’s like living in the ninth circle of Hell most days.

Some days are really good though, and I cherish those. We have a lot of fun and share a great deal of laughs in this house. Among being tiny little delinquents, they are sweet and funny and each has a great sense of humour so when you get past the shenanigans, it’s actually fun! I laugh so much sometimes my sides feel like they might burst, they make me proud most of the time, and I wouldn’t change most things except the urine, farts, and penises everywhere. I love my family and as much as I complain, I wouldn’t change a thing because you never know what each day will bring (hopefully not the cops).