Divas are not made...

...they're born. -unknown

I haven't been blessed with a little girl.
And no, there was no sarcasm in my voice when I said "blessed."

I always knew I would be a mother of boys. That doesn't mean I would've minded a sweet little girl to temper my rambunctious brood. But, she probably wouldn't have been sweet, she probably would've been a diva. Especially coming at the end of 3 boys. She would have been spoiled, and the worst offender would most definitely have been Josh. So, most of the time I am happy I never had a little girl (and don't say "it's not too late" cause Josh already had the "snip snip" so unless it's immaculate conception, we're done).

And of course...
I have Cash.
Who, you may not know, is aspiring to be a little girl. Just today he said "when I turn into a girl I am going to paint my nails."

I am not concerned...
...maybe I should be.


This is Cash on Valentine's Day. That is Lila's shirt, see her here. Momo bought her a ruffled cap-sleeve sparkly shirt (that's a lot of adjectives.) Cash threw a fit and wanted to wear it.

Which he did...
...to his preschool party.


This is Cash in his cousin's bow. He wore it all day. Even to the playground.

I don't really mind. I figure it's self-expression. I am sure it bothers Josh. He hasn't expressed concern but here's why I think he's a tad bit worried.

There are a lot of fears for first-time parents. You can take anything as long as the baby is healthy. That's the number one concern. Not for Josh. When we were pregnant with Cole his biggest concern was that Cole was going to be born a hermaphrodite and that we would have to choose. He had it worked out that it would be better to have a masculine little girl so she could get lacrosse scholarships.

So maybe he is worried about his feminine little boy.
Except Cash isn't feminine at all.
He is all-boy.

Climbing, jumping, running, spitting, penis-talk, Star Wars, Ninjago, dogs, outdoors...and pink sparkly hearts. Who said pink sparkly hearts were only for little girls? I love that kid.

We have four boxes with which to defend our freedom...

...the soapbox, the ballot box, the jury box and the cartridge box. -(can't find the original source, lots of people take credit for it. This exact version is from a Georgia politician named Larry McDonald.)

Stepping on soap box.

I cannot take one more commerical about tax preparation. This has nothing to do with taxes. A post about my feelings on taxes and the 60% of the country that doesn't even pay taxes but has the gall to try and dictate how tax money should be spent...well, that is a post for another time.

This is a post about how STUPID Americans can be. This particular commerical, (I don't generally watch commercials but on hulu+ they force you to watch them and you can't skip them, perhaps a future soap box is needed for that topic) features random people shouting out monetary amounts from their windows and front porches. They are excited about their tax refunds and that pisses me off. Why? Because people think the government is giving them an annual bonus! IT'S YOUR MONEY PEOPLE! You are the idiot that gave the government an interest free loan for a year. And I get it, you like the little surprise cash flow to go on a vacation or buy a flat screen tv. But guess what? Even if you would have put that money aside in a simple savings account earning 1% interest you would be better off! I have friends who like the refund because it their forced savings plan that helps them pay off debt. If you're reading this blog I want you to know that while the government was getting your little 0% interest loan, you were paying 15% on your credit card debt.

So this year, use the withholding calculator and change your deductions. Have some discipline and take that money and either invest it or put it toward debt. Until we as American citizens can exercise fiscal responsibility, why should we ever expect our elected politicians to so?

Stepping off soap box.

A child can ask questions...

...a wise man cannot answer. -Unknown

Seriously, these boys have asked me such profound, enlightening, disturbing and puzzling questions. On one hand, I've looked at the world in a way that one can't unless you are Cole, Finn or Cash. On the other, I've had more discussions about bodily functions and said the word "penis" more times than a urologist.

This week Cole and I were having a not-so-fun discussion about his friend Kyson. Kyson tends to get Cole into trouble, so we've been learning a lot about being a leader versus a follower.

ME: If Kyson wants to make a choice that you know is bad, you can still be his friend by suggesting a better alternative. You can lead Kyson to make better choices. (Notice my superior parenting skill of making Kyson's behavior bad and not making Kyson, the boy, bad. Right now I am feeling like a parental guru.)

COLE:(LONG PAUSE) But mom, doesn't that just make Kyson a follower?

ME: (CHOKING ON MY WATER)

COLE: And Jesus is our leader, aren't we still followers?

ME:(LONGER PAUSE)Just drink your milkshake.


I really have no words.


Cole the parental flummoxing mastermind

Sometimes being a brother...

...is even better than being a superhero. -Unknown

I have a little band of brothers under my conductorship.
So, I hope it's true.

Because some days the insults hurled about are simply soul-crushing. What is it about family? You know where it hurts and you have no shame exploiting those weaknesses. I know it's unmotherly of me but I would rather them fist fight then say such terrible things to each other.

Luckily, I have a superior half in this parental battle and he's adamant that these boys will be best friends. And you know what? Sometimes I think it's working.

Yesterday, I was folding laundry on my bed and I heard Cole come in from the school bus. Finn was waiting for him, as usual, he was so excited to show Cole the DS game he had earned. This is where I marvel at little boys, Finn immediately handed the DS to Cole to play. What did Finn do while Cole played? He watched over his shoulder of course.



They stood like this for 35 minutes. I understand the fun for Cole, but where's the enjoyment for Finn. He was just as excited for Cole. Shouting things like "go up there" or "kick that guy's face off."



I finally suggested the boys go sit down and be comfortable.



I had to step over them about 100 times, but at least Finn's cries of "you are so amazing Cole" filled the home with brotherly love.