Last night Corbin walked out of the bathroom, hand raised to give me a high five and he said two words- 'trash can.'
So you already know that he totally peed in the trash can, right? I can sugar coat that 1,000 different ways, but the truth is, he peed in the fucking trash can and also all over the floor. And once again, I got nuthin'. Nuthin' to say about it at all. Except this...
I'll never understand the depth of little boys nastiness. I told you about the booger wall. I told you about the biggest Baby C peeing in all my pans and trying to wipe a booger in my mouth. The babiest Baby C proudly pooping on the trampoline. I told you about precious nephew peeing in a glove. There's also the story I never told you all about one of my dearest friends- one time, her son pooped in the sink. Another friend? Her son was busted bent over in front of a mirror trying to put a quarter in his butt. All of this makes me scratch my head and wonder if life would be slightly less...intertwined with buttholes and bodily functions if God had given me daughters instead of sons like I politely requested. Maybe I wasn't so polite, I can't remember. My point is while some mom is loving playing dolls with her daughter, I'm over here trying to figure out how my kids got pee on their ceiling. I'm not kidding. That actually happened. And honestly, I don't wanna know how they did it.
My boys are a constant reminder that as a parent and even as a human being, I don't know shit. It's also a constant reminder that no matter how hard you try you can never, ever be prepared for everything. And the worst part is, that the stuff you actually prepare for? It isn't gonna happen, I promise. It's called 'life getting you up the butt' and it's all about the element of surprise.
There is nobody- nobody- who knew more about raising kids than me. Before I had kids, of course. Then when you have them you realize that parenting books don't prepare you for much of anything. I mean, they'll help you keep a baby alive, but actually turning them into productive adults? That is a crapshoot. And the best I can do, my friends, is tell you good luck with that!