*Bleeping* Amazing

When Frick and Frack were five, I thought I’d gone to little boy hell. The control freak in me still wanted to do everything for them. The lazy part of me wanted them to do everything themselves. Pour your own cereal. Wash your own hair. For cryin’ out loud, aim your penis into the toilet bowl so I don’t have little-boy pee on my wall! A few years down the road, I realized that all these fun, little exercises in insanity were truly a right of passage–just like my mother-in-law said they would be. Damn it, I hate it when she’s right. Here’s how I made it through.

Courtesy Web MD--This is NOT what my kids looked like when learning to pour.

Learning to pour. Milk, water, juice–it didn’t matter. Anytime Frick and Frack poured something it would end up on the floor or on the countertops, which was fine for a while, until I got tired of cleaning up the mess. So, I got smart. I started buying half-gallons of milk instead of gallons. I split up the orange juice into smaller, lighter pitchers. A two-cup measuring cup became my best friend. And damn it, juice boxes are convenient for a reason. They’re small and awesome.

Looks can be deceiving. They weren't this clean either.

Learning to mix. I walked in on my son “making hot chocolate.” He was so proud with the big can of chocolate powder and his trusty measuring cup–on my carpet. Then, he stirred it so fast that water sloshed EVERYWHERE, and the wet, chunky blobs of chocolate worked their magic into my carpet. Lesson number one: We mix in the kitchen where we can wipe it down easily. Lesson number two: Stir slowly. Lesson number three: Add liquid a little at a time. Lesson four: praise for lessons one, two, and three.

Learning to pee. I have one son who had relatively solid aim. The other one was like a fire hose on the loose–pee everywhere! My hubs was gone, deployed overseas, for a significant part of this time, so how was I to know what to do with little boy parts? It turns out, aiming for a target is helpful. You may think that by five, your boy will have it all figured out. False. My sons are 12 and 14 and still suck at it. It also turns out that holding the “thing” down is helpful. Ew. Boys are so gross. Let’s just say I was so glad when the hubs came home. Frick and Frack needed some remedial pee that I just wasn’t good at it.

I could go on for hours about the little things I learned from my five year olds–little things that seem like the end of the world at the time. Trust me. Later, you’ll barely remember doing it. One of the biggest lessons I took away during those formative years was that you just have to go through them. Let THEM learn how to make the cereal. Let THEM learn how to work your fifty TV remotes. Let THEM learn to close the door behind them when they go outside. Because the sooner you do, the sooner YOU don’t have to do it. One of my biggest fears as a mother is being a helicopter mom. On the flip side, I also don’t want to neglect my kids. Balance comes with experience and with talking to other moms. See how they do things. If you think they’re overbearing, they probably are, and when their kids are 14, they’ll be exhausted. If you think a mom needs a covert call by a neighbor to Child Protective Services, they probably do. Don’t be like her and don’t hang out with her either. Hugs your kids. Nurture them better than that. I’m just sayin’. Those are my words of mom wisdom for today.

Cheers,