Let them play with the knife...they'll learn

I have come to the conclusion that our precious little snowflakes are going to get hurt at some point during their childhood.  Really what can we do about it?  Bubble wrap?  Keep them inside?  Remove any furniture that has a corner?  I don't think so.

Kids get hurt.  It is a reality of growing up.  How else can they learn what is dangerous and what isn't?  I learned when I was a kid.  I burned my hand on the stove when I should have kept away from it.  I stepped on a nail when I wasn't paying attention.  I refused to look away when my Dad was hammering a steel post one day and have the scar on the side of my face as a reminder.  Did I learn from each of those mistakes?  Yep.  Did I do it again?  Nope.

With our kids we warn them and try to keep them as safe as possible but we can't stop them all the time.  Case in point, two nights ago they were in the bath and we were in the living room.  I heard some commotion and Declan began crying.  When we went in his thumb was bleeding as was his finger.  His other hand was holding a disposable razor.  

Let me be clear, we have a responsibility to try and keep them safe.  I didn't see the razor when I was drawing their bath which is my fault.  But in the end they have been warned about not touching them if they see them.  Do you think that Declan will play with one again?  Not likely.  Aside from a band aid and about 5 minutes of crying, no permanent harm done.  

I am sure that Rhys is going to burn himself at some point.  The boy just keeps going back to the stove time and again no matter how many times we tell him not to.  I don't want him to get hurt but we can't be everywhere all the time.

I know that I am not going to win Father of the year for this one but in the end I think that these little lessons in childhood are important.   Agree?  Disagree?

Bravery? I believe what you are referring to is called PARENTING!

Listen, I love my kids, I really do. It doesn't mean that it is easy to go out for dinner, especially when it come to going out with all three. It is hard enough just to get ready with diapers, wipes, extra clothes and all the other things I routinely forget to bring with us. Then get all three dressed and in the car.

I find the best way to have a good evening is by setting low expectations. Take for example my dad's 60th birthday dinner. We went to the Manderin restaurant. The first thing Rhys ate he choked on and threw up. Then he had a massive poo which required a new change of clothing. Then Declan vomitted all over the carpet on the way out of the restaurant. Not to be outdone, Rhys then proceeded to get stuck in the revolving door as some ignorant people refused to stop pushing as I fought to move it the other way to release his leg while he lied there screaming. Leighton of course, slept through the whole thing!

Will we avoid going out for meals because of it? No. Will we need to remortgage our house to feed three teenage boys? Maybe!

My Bravest Moment

So I did something incredibly brave the other day: I took my 2 year old to a restaurant on my own. Past experience indicated that this could have been a total disaster but I thought that it would be fun to do just the two of us.

Luckily for me the table beside us had a kid who was a hellion. I love when that happens because it makes my kids seem like angels. Rhys just used the walls as drums for his fork, jumped up and down on the bench and almost spilled his drink a dozen times. He didn't have a meltdown, he didn't scream, and he didn't hit me the way that little monster beside us did.

I have to admit I felt a big smug knowing that they were sitting there embarrassed and jealous of that my little imp was being so good. At one point Rhys asked why the little boy was crying and I told him that sometimes people are just sad. He looked at me and just kinda nodded.

We finished our meal, paid our bill and went on our way. As we left the boy was screaming that he wasn't allowed to go into the treasure box. I just smiled.

Let me be entirely honest. Andrea and I have taken the boys out for dinner on more than one occasion and it hasn't gone terribly well. Declan has thrown up more than once, meltdowns have been had and we have sworn more than once that we will never go out to dinner with them again. Like I said, I was very brave the other day!

Boys!

Anyone who knows me knows that I only wanted boys. I can't imagine what it would be like having girls. They would have me wrapped so tightly around their little fingers I would be doomed.

I always wanted boys and when we found out that our first was going to be male I was ecstatic. When it was time for number two I was still really hoping for a boy and got my wish. When it was time for number three I tried to convince myself that it didn't matter but in the end I really wanted a boy.

I am sure that I would have loved to have a girl. Lucky for me I don't have to worry about it.

As for any notion that our family is not complete I assure you that in no way shape or form do we feel as though we are missing out.

Anyway, that is why I have sisters! Let them have complete little perfect nuclear families.

Boys vs Girls

I keep seeing this post on Facebook, a quote from Laurel Atherton that reads "a daughter is one of the most beautiful gifts this world has to give." Now since I have no daughters of my own, I cannot speak directly to this quote, however it got me thinking. During all my pregnancies, but especially the last, everyone kept asking if I wanted a girl. To me, this was a ridiculous statement, what I wanted was a healthy baby. However, two inferences came out of many of these conversations:

1. Our family would not be complete unless we had a girl and

2. that somehow I wouldn't be truly happy unless I had a little girl 'like me'.

I think we all get wrapped up in our hopes and dreams for our children; their first steps, first day of school, moving out on their own, having families of their own and become world famous footballers. The reality of the situation is we can only provide them love, food, shelter and a moral base for whatever life they choose to live. All children are a blessing and I happened to have been blessed with three boys. Is our family incomplete? No. Do I feel incomplete, unhappy? Not at all.

On the other hand, if I had three girls would I suffer less injuries? Probably.

Ruined?

"Do you have any idea how f*$king crazy you sound right now?"

I admit that this is not the best thing to say to your pregnant wife.

Let me be the first to say that I think that Andrea looks amazing. 3 kids or not I think that she is hot.

What I will say is that I think that she should be less concerned about how our kids "ruined" her body and more concerned with how absolutely nuts they made her while she was pregnant.

I don't mean "I want pickles and ice cream" nuts either. I mean irrational, hormonal crazy.

This occurred with all three of the boys and I wouldn't be surprised if there is some residual crazy just waiting to be unleashed.

Guys I just want to put it out there that once you get your significant other pregnant it would be a good idea to just say good-bye to rational argument or discussion. No matter what you say it is going to be wrong, dangerously wrong.

I can't count the number of times that we got into a fight over something so miniscule as to be laughable. The problem was to Andrea it wasn't laughable. I think the fact that I still laughed was probably what took her over the edge. I think I slept on the couch that night.

Anyway, I digress. I don't think that Andrea's body has been ruined. I honestly don't have much proof of this as in all honesty the past 5 years has been a haze of pregnancy, breast feeding, more pregnancy, you get the idea. Oh yeah and we were kind of homeless for almost half a year in the middle of that as well. Actually come to think of it the fact that we even found time to get pregnant a third time is pretty remarkable!

I love my boys, I really do. But, they ruined me and I'm not the only one.

I remember speaking with a friend at work, she was pregnant for the second time and I for the third. She said to me very seriously that she hoped to not have to have a c-section. She then said something very honest, funny and truthful to me... my vagina is already ruined, so I don't want to wreck my stomach as well. Now this isn't a vain individual, the exact opposite, someone who works out and takes care of herself. But she had honestly said to me what many women won't admit.

I am sure part of it was my own doing. All those celebrities with personal trainers, in fantastic shape before pregnancy seem to have no problem bouncing back. I on the other hand am now about 15 pounds heavier than I was before I had Declan. And things are sagging and larger everywhere!

After breast feeding just two of them my boobs are smaller and sagging. I guess this is why they invented push-up bras!

I have stretch marks on my stomach, which actually aren't too bad after the excessive application of belly butter throughout pregnancy.

And after an episiotomy and three tears my vagina is also ruined.

I hope my sister-in laws don't read this though, because I would love a niece or nephew!