Can those of you who raised little boys PLEASE promise me that I will make it through this year? This boy…this BOY.
Things got quiet this morning. Never a good thing! I had left the door to the deck open so I could enjoy some fresh cool air. Carlos took advantage of the situation and decided to paint the deck PURPLE with some tempera paint that G had left out there from a birdhouse project. 
Got a little ninja turtle thing going on there.
I plopped him in the tub and laughed it off. But he melted down when I wouldn’t let him use the entire bottle of Disney Princess Bubble Solution. We worked it out.
He refused to wear the first two shirts I pulled from the drawer, but we agreed on a blue shirt with bears on it. I got him dressed, right down to his Spiderman sandals. I let him win the battle of the hairbrush. OK.
Then I left him in the den in front of Peppa Pig so I could take a shower myself.
Do y’all sense my mistake? Can you feel it in your parenting senses?
You’re thinking, “Ashley? Did you put up the purple paint or did you just leave it right there in the same place like an idiot?”
Yes, yes I did. Little Dude figured out how to get back out on the deck and painted himself purple AGAIN.
Fine.
This time I might have cleaned him up with a little less patience and a little more grumbling. Dressed him again. Dressed myself again. Left the deck purple. Locked the white dog inside so he didn’t end up purple too.
Got all ready to go, when I remembered that I needed to restock his extra clothes cubby at school because potty training is STILL a thing. Still. As I went to the laundry to get a bag of tiny underwear, he covered the loveseat with Parmesan cheese.
Yep. Aromatic.
But hey, the dog was inside and would take care of that. We load up the car with a stack of clean clothes and off we go. When what to my wondering eyes doth appear but a kamikaze squirrel, so I slam the brakes. Clean clothes fly EVERYWHERE.
That was it. I snapped.
“CAN ONE DAMN THING GO RIGHT TODAY????”
From the back seat, I hear a tiny little voice chirp, “YES!”
Yes.
Right there in the middle of the road, we laughed. Carlos the Purple made me laugh.
That’s the thing about kids. Even in the middle of all the fuss and bother, they’re the very ones to remind me that it is delightful to live in a world that can turn purple, where a loveseat can smell like spaghetti, and sometimes you get a bubble bath on a Wednesday morning.
Yes.
Not sure “better” is the right word, but it will get different, the challenges and joys ever-changing. I will tell you that the one that tested me at Carlos’ age is now my sweet, organized, thoughtful 13-yr-old who tells me he loves me multiple times a day. And the one that was sweet, happy, well-behaved is a total mystery to me at 16. Awesome kid, but I have no idea what’s going on in there any more and he doesn’t share often. Oh but when he does…I listen. Carlos is a beautiful boy and lucky to have a momma who can laugh in the midst of chaos. You will survive!
“Organized kid” sounds like a dream to me! You must be doing something right…a lot of things right!
Well, at least it was Parmesan cheese! My youngest, at almost 5 yrs, decided that Mommy’s blue couch and living room carpet, needed to “smell nice”….. He dumped an entire extra-large bottle of baby powder ALL OVER the living room! 3 months later, my living room stills smells like a baby’s butt!! Lol!! Little boys can be a HUGE challenge, but they can be an even larger JOY and definately a ray of sunshine! Well done Ash! Well done!!
Hahahahaha! That powder holds TIGHT! Lately, Carlos has been using a comb to scratch sidewalk chalk into dust then sprinkling it all over the carpet in the den. The vacuum cleaner has given up!
I think Carlos needs a salary since he is such a frequent contributor to your column. Does he need an agent?
Shhhhhhh…I sock it away in his college fund!
Having successfully raised two boys (19 & 22 now!), I can tell you that you’ll make it through. It’ll get “better” and then likely “worse” a bunch of times, but hang in there!!
How much would you estimate you spent on milk in their lifetimes???
Oh ho ho ho….YES. My adorable 7 year old. He asked for a piece of pie. Walked outside and threw it on the roof. Went upstairs and climbed out the window to retrieve said pie from roof. Climbed back into house and dropped pie (pie side up, of course) into carpet in my bedroom. When i heard all the rumblings going on… i asked my sweet boy what was going on. He declared “I throwed my pie on the roof and had to go get it.” NOW.. i asked “WHY would you throw your pie on the roof, son?” And his response……”The monkeys in my head told me to do it.” I completely understand. As you know, this adorable 7 year old is your nephew..and is my third boy. I have just come to understand that in order to survive ONE MORE BOY CHILD…lot’s of deep breaths, lot’s of counting to 10 and sometimes lot’s of wine are in order. And i totally agree with MiisK…once you think you have a hold on things, a teenager is born. Oh, and that teenager will want to drive your car. On the road. With other people.
Jeez Louise…driving? I need some monkey pie myself.
Seeing this with the sense of humor that you do? That’s two things right in my book.
True! You better believe I kept an eye on him this morning!
My son is almost 23 and still “paints things purple” on a regular basis. My advice? EAT Carlos, while he’s still young and tender.
You are NOT RIGHT!
Christymimi is right–Carlos’s adventures make great blog material! Err, I am torn between feeling guilty and being relieved that my T (now 16) gave me a free pass as far as such things are concerned. Perhaps because he is an only child? My twin sisters sure gave us a run for our money back in the day. We didn’t call them “double trouble” for nothing!
You’ll have plenty of problems with T…
– What do I wear to the Nobel Prize ceremony?
– Where will we put all these citations of merit?
– How much are tickets to Stockholm?
He’s a great kid and you’ve had a lot to do with that!
Aww…too kind. I think he is super wonderful. But then, again, I’m his mom! 🙂
Oh how I love this. YES INDEED.
Can you IMAGINE if he had access to Roozle’s art supplies???
I agree with Melissa, After raising 5 boys to adulthood (you notice, I don’t say successfully) it has been and still continues to be a rollercoaster ride. They are 28, 25, 24, 24, and 22) Success is definitely in the eye of the beholder. To you I say “Enjoy”, enjoy being able to have some control because as an adult all you can do is watch and hope they learned the lessons you so desperately tried to teach them, hope that they find a nice girl who will love them every bit as much as you did. Enjoy your hair in it’s natural color, because I can guarantee you’ll go grey faster than you would have with out said BOYS!!!! but most of all, enjoy that laughter. With an empty nest now I find that I hate the quiet, I used to crave, I’m bored by the clean house I use to struggle to keep, and that little bit of alone time? waay too lonely. Now they are adults with their own lifes, girlfriends, and jobs and I miss them. You can bet that when they visit , I hug them a bit tighter and longer, I tell them how much I love them a bit more often, and I cry just a bit when they leave.
Oh and in answer to someones question about milk? I used to go through 1-2 gallons a day, I don’t miss that.
So beautifully said, Connie. I dream of a clean house but it would be such an empty house! Bless you.
Andrew once painted the living room carpet with ketchup and mustard (He woke up from a nap earlier than I did – I was running a fever). It was not pretty. Today we laugh about it. He started college yesterday and I am waxing nostalgic about those days. It will get better. Have a glass of wine this evening and know that “tomorrow will be another day”.
Bless me if this child ever discovers mustard!
Reminds of when my Kathy was 3 and decided to paint herself, the wall and freshly changed bed with bright red orange lipstick while I was bathing and washing my long hair in the tub. Once she was cleaned up and the sheets were stripped, I sat her in my lap while I dried my hair with the drier. I would keep a close eye on her and I did as Kathy poked her finger in the drier blade and spurted blood everywhere. I had a doctor appt that day and the nurse told me my BP was rather high. Imagine!
OH NO! Vivi painted her whole body with my red lipstick one year on Christmas Eve. We never would have gotten her clean if I didn’t remember the advice of my drag queen friend–Vaseline takes off lipstick!
I won’t even start, but my most often stated question back then was, “Where’s Wes?” and that meant — I’ve lost track of him again and who knows what he’s done this time. I didn’t work outside of home then, but he went to the Kittridge Day Care Center every day for a few hours. Guess why? Now? He’s the best!
I love your Carlos stories and pictures. They always make me smile because of him and because of the memories.
And because you knew me when I used to cry myself to sleep because I wanted children so badly!
Yes, but in this case getting what you wanted is a good thing, — are good things??
I knew four brothers whose childhood antics were legend in their hometown, including bringing a horse into the house and chopping the legs off the dining table. They grew up to become a dentist, attorney/judge, and two owned a very successful business together. All had wonderful wives and families.Enjoy the ride. BTW, as a PK, I am thrilled that he painted himself purple! I admire you ability to find the golden moment in every situation. Thanks for sharing them with all of us.
I’m a PK too, so the color choice didn’t get him in trouble!
When my son was two he climbed up the side of the shelves in the pantry and grabbed what were then glass bottles, and bottles of glass Coke were thrown on the floor like hand grenades so by the time I got to the pantry he was hanging on like a monkey and if he let go he would’ve been cut to death and I could barely walk through because it was covered in Coke. Sorry, that sentence was too long but it brings back such scary memories. He did something like that every single day. He gave himself three concussions by the time he was five. The only child I know who flipped himself off a Bigwheel. Climbed out of his crib at nine months old and gave himself a mild concussion. Wandered the house all night. Ask his pediatrician, who had a son the same age, what to do. The doctor said he had to tie his son to the bed.
My daughter had two sons, 3 and 18 months, and was expecting her third. She laid down thinking it was for a rest and put both boys across the hall. They were to play in their room with the door shut. She told them to play quietly. Something woke her. Either a noise or an absence of one, she’s not sure. She walked across the landing and looked down. There both boys were standing at the bottom of the steps naked. While she napped they had removed every article of clothing, the curtains, the sheets, stuffed animals, books, shoes and every movable thing in their bedroom and put them all in a large pile and then urinated on it. She had never even said “darn” in front of the children and said words that came out of her mouth that day would have embarrassed a sailor.
I was cleaning out google today and reread what i like to call ‘purple deck, twice.’ Would you believe that I miss those days. It was such innocent mischief.
A few years ago (12) I fell and had to have rotator cuff surgery. Wes insisted on staying the night at the hospital. (I wanted my daughter. She could chase down pain medication and follow the nurse around until I got it.) Wes promptly fell asleep. The morphine had not been hooked up in the recovery room nor checked on the floor. I was so glad to get it that I didn’t even wake Wes up. A lovely black, gay, male, funny night nurse came in and talked to me for a long time. There are angels in the middle of the night to take care of Clydes like me. I told Wes I was adopting my angel and didn’t know how he would come out with the will and all. I think they sent him in because the psychiatrist had gone home for the night.
You do know most of this is fiction, don;t you? Not the unhooked morphine, not the angel, and not Wes sleeping, but that was later. We both call it the night from hell and prefer not to talk about it. He had been up all night the night before. Dumb thirty-year-old. Dumb mother..
Dom’t forget the fun you’ll get with grandchildren, “Here, Son, I think he has explosive diarrhea! Gotta run. Bye.”
Emma was here for the weekend and we had such a good time. I think she did, too. Naps are encouraged here. ‘Friends,’ all ten years is on Netflix now, so we watched some of that, fell asleep watching, went to bed, couldn;t sleep so she followed me into the kitchen which led to food and laughs and a bunch of tears at times. Good weekend. She’s happy in the program, got all As and Bs her first semester. I don’t know how. but we make it through, and the rewards are worth, I think, more than the pain thrown at your psyche.
Hearing you say that makes me hopeful. You’ve certainly had enough thrown your way. I’m glad Emma is finding her way.