So…life, huh? Well, life with three boys is awesome. And it's terrible. And exciting. And…oh my word, what is that on the wall?
As a former little boy, I can empathize with the desire to discover all things squishy, smelly, smear-able and downright sticky. I now also know what my mother meant when she said, “One day, you'll have kids of your own…and I'm gonna laugh and laugh and laugh.” My mom is so loving. Well, now I get it.
Kind of like I can read the writing on the walls.
As far as stuff found on walls, those little boys don't discriminate with what they use to make “art.” In addition to all that, we have goats with the predilection of self-entitled teens and chickens that don't really care where they drop their number two. There's plenty of microscopic ‘yick' to go around.
I have learned, over a few short years, to be much more patient. I remind myself that the stuff they destroy or cover with gross…whatever…is just stuff. I can always get more stuff, and the real joy and value comes from my time with the boys.
Which is also how I learned that it's important to take care of the part that really does matter. The boys and their health. Like that old uncomfortable comforting adage, “Well, at least you've got your health!”
This means eliminating the micro-villanis that aim only to give my little dudes the sniffles, coughs, wheezes and downright cruddy nights of little to no sleep. Especially after dealing with my smallest comrade in the hospital, we've been on a mission to eradicate all the smarmy little germs that weasel their way in through play dates and express mail packages, coworkers and takeout food. We give sick people (pretty much all people, for that matter) a WIDE berth and wash our hands like we have stock in Dial.
It's a war out there…well, in this case the battlefield is on my walls and tables. If you're averse to violence, please look away from the next sentence or two. When I wage war I don't go about it like our current administration, only hoping to kill our enemies with kindness. Oh NO! I hunt them down and obliterate their everything. Every wall, table, toilet, sink, light socket, mountain cave and hut is attacked with my secret weapon. Zep Quick Clean Disinfectant is my napalm. It stamps out the flu virus like an MQ9 Reaper Drone, and Zep Antibacterial Disinfectant is my hand grenade.
Chelsea doesn't fully understand why I scream “Die Charlie die!” when I'm cleaning the bathroom, but that's because she never watched Platoon. Or Hamburger Hill. Or any of the movies I like to watch on rainy days.
Dumb girls.