Boys

I have three sons. I really thought this would be easier. I've never been much of a, well, really, much of a girly girl (not that there's anything wrong with that!). I've had the same hairstyle - if you can even call it that - since high school. Most days I put it up and I don't even bother with the time it would take to put it in a full-on ponytail, I just twist it around a scrunchy. I don't wear make-up, haven't carried a purse since one small stint in the 8th grade and I absolutely despise getting dressed up. I'd live my life in sweats if I could though I do don a pair of jeans about half the time. And, like I said, shy a stint in about 8th grade when I decided to try to be a girl, and mind you I gave it the real college try - labels, nails, frosty lip gloss and a nice 80's perm - I've never been much of a girl. My closest friends were guys and I just thought I couldn't relate to girls (though, sorry mom, I did have the nice attitude of a teen girl, didn't I!). I didn't have anything to discuss with girls, couldn't relate to what they were into and really hated the drama that often accompanied pre-teen and teen girls. As I grew, I broadened my horizons - one of my best friends in college my freshman year was a cheerleader and we actually dressed up as each other for Halloween - something if you knew us at the time was hysterical. Too bad I don't seem to have a photo. Note to self, find Julie. And I've grown now to the point that not only do I HAVE girlfriends, but I really appreciate them! Thanks to those of you who put up with me and still call me friend! The point is, I thought I'd understand boys. My poor daughter, well, I do put pink on her, but she's lucky to get her hair done and I'll be equally helpless when it comes to make-up or even the desire to dress up. Why would you want to wear a dress??? So cold and uncomfortable...

The point is that I figured boys would be easier for me. Don't have to "dress" them so much and they just do their thing, right? I underestimated how they don't seem to care at all about mess, stink, dirt, destruction. They don't mind rubbing dirt in their hair (even if it results in the whole family battling ring worm for months), sitting in poop, wiping it on their sheets and sleeping in it all night long, spilling all over themselves. They destroy things for the sheer excitement of doing it - (whether it be the new toy or the bookshelf, or Easton's latest phase of pulling apart the bedding on all the beds in the house). While Easton is messy, BJ is also just hard on things. Forget the numerous toys that have buckeled under his strength or the walls that have suffered from him trying to pull himself up by the curtains or the items broken from playing ball in the house. The boy has over 15 pairs of pants and 12 of them have holes in the knees, and most of them were not even hand-me-downs. He can put holes in pants in less than 6 wearings. Boys!

Well, I have three boys. They are all pretty different.... the tortured sensitive but caring genius, the all-American boy big man on campus type (ironic since technically he's not even an American citizen yet), and the more alternative loves to make everyone laugh at all costs silly man... summed up by my friend Kristin as my little rock star. I worry a bit about the outcomes of these early stereotypical nick-names - I was dubbed the little attorney when I was little and while I never went to law school I assure you I can still plead my case for 'justice' with the best of them. So, this is not really about Trevor. He's unique and well, simply his brain works overtime. He thinks everything through probably too much and worries about all the possible implications of every last thing. I don't have to worry so much when he's around -- all will be safe and well thought out...

But when the two younger ones get together (or even alone) well, that's when I've learned that I can not even come to predict what I might come upon. The most recent time that I just sat there and thought "What on earth possessed you to even contemplate this as a good idea?" was last night. I'm trying to get the boys into bed doing the routine and one of them is shocked as they go to stand on the stool to find its broken. I go to investigate - this stool often has a loose leg or two but you can just screw it back into the fixture quite easily. The fixture however is a metal plate securely screwed into the base of the stool. When I flipped over the stool I found that the metal plate to one of the legs had be pulled out hard creating pretty big holes where screws once lived - now only one left in residence. Hmm... knowing BJ had spent some time in there earlier and that he was probably the only one with the strength to literally wrench the screws out of place I began my questioning. The answers came slowly... about 30 minutes later including many non-answers and a couple of unsuccessful treasure hunts looking for screws I got a picture of what occurred which I highly doubt is still a fully accurate version of events. The short story is that the stool was wiggling, so he went to check it out. Decided to wiggle the leg more himself. When the screws fell out he figured he'd better stop and put it upright and hope nobody noticed. "The screws here on the floor, hmmm, I'll flush them".

As I pursued my questioning of BJ last night and was reminded of oh so many previous conversations with Easton and/or BJ I became enlightened. I'm always trying to understand. I'm always asking "Why???" "Why did you put the screws in the toilet?!?!" Until the moment of enlightenment I think I really believed there was an answer to my questions of why. In this instance I expected to hear any number of excuses, perhaps things like: "I wanted to hear what it sounded like when I flushed" or "I thought it would be cool to watch it when I flushed" or even "I was afraid I would get in trouble and flushing seemed the best way to get rid of the evidence". When I ask either boy "Why?!?!" in all the situations it never fails that I'm gifted with one of two responses. Easton screams "I don't KNOW why!!!!" and BJ just stares at me like I've grown a foot out of the top of my head right then and there and he can't comprehend my question as he's all of a sudden gone back to not understanding a lick of English. However, last night I feel I was truly enlightened, there sitting on the throne questioning BJ in the midst of his frustrating silence... they really don't know. Honestly, I realized that these little boys just don't think about it. They don't think about covering their tracks of destruction anymore than they think about what will happen when they destroy something or that they are even trying to destroy something in the first place. The thought process right now really is: "Huh, look the stool is wiggly. Let me check that out! Wow, this is fun wiggling this leg. Oh wow, look! A screw! I think I'll pick it up. Wow its shiny. Huh, that was cool! I guess I'll just put it in the toilet now". There isn't a why. "I don't know why, I just did."

Boys... hopefully I'll survive to see them grow into a slightly deeper thought process...