By: Lila Anderson
Updated: March 30, 2021
Originally Published: Dec. 10, 2012
As a little girl, I envisioned a future filled with two gentle daughters. I imagined them twirling in pink dresses, white tights, and shiny black shoes, spending hours playing quietly with their dolls. In my daydreams, we would shop for the latest Barbie Townhouse, sell Girl Scout cookies, and indulge in lively discussions about Nancy Drew mysteries and which Hardy Boy, Frank or Joe, was the cutest.
Fast forward to reality: I am the proud mother of three energetic boys.
If I’m being honest, my childhood fantasies about motherhood didn’t include scenarios like:
- Stockpiling Gatorade and Goober by the case.
- Having my foot slip into the toilet bowl on more than one occasion.
- Cleaning urine off the walls—seriously, guys, this is still happening?
- Stepping on seemingly harmless yet excruciatingly painful little Lego pieces. Just one incident can ruin an entire outfit.
However, having three boys does come with its perks:
- Leftovers? Not a chance.
- No one complains about wearing shirts that expose their bellies.
- Packing for summer camp is a breeze; they wear the same outfit every day.
- I can avoid the mayhem of boys’ locker rooms.
- When guests come over, I can simply raise my hands and say, “What did you expect? I live with three boys and a St. Bernard!”
Don’t let this rosy picture fool you; being a single mom to three boys certainly has its challenges. For instance, the ongoing battle with underwear continues to be a hot topic.
From an early age, my boys took to running around the house without clothes, spending hours playing Wii tennis completely nude. They would plop their bare bottoms on kitchen stools, asking, “What’s for dinner?” Or stand near the window, mesmerized by cartoons, oblivious to the fact that cars were passing by. Eventually, I enforced a strict rule: “No underwear, no Wii.” “No underwear, no tree climbing.” “No underwear, no zip line.”
When my youngest attended summer camp, we had a serious talk about the importance of returning home in his own underwear—not someone else’s. Apparently, boys in a hurry will just grab the nearest pair they find. Today, that same child still brings home wet, stray underwear from locker rooms, sleepovers, or, even worse, water parks. He has a kind heart, but I really can’t take in any more strays.
I remember when my middle son, at age 9, desperately wanted a pair of Under Armour underwear for basketball. I found out they were essentially Spanx for boys to keep everything in place. Since I’m not a fan of jiggles myself, I was all in. After purchasing them, he proudly modeled the snug shorts and exclaimed, “Look, there’s a pocket right here!” Then, he reached into the pocket like a magician revealing a rabbit from a hat, pulling out a semi-melted Chapstick and declaring, “Tah-dah!” I was impressed and suggested he could keep some cash in there too.
My youngest chimed in, “But imagine being at McDonald’s and saying, ‘Hold on, I’ve got two quarters in my underwear. Just a minute while I dig for it!’”
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the other room: “Oh. My. God! You guys are such idiots! That pocket is for a cup, you dorks! A cup for your ‘jewels,’ you know?” A cup? That had never crossed my mind as a single mom.
For soccer, my son needed compression shorts—basically super tight underwear. At the store, I encountered a lanky teenager whose pants were sagging so low that his Batman boxers were on full display. I asked how to determine which pair my son needed. “Well,” he said, “these compression shorts are designed for protection and come in sizes based on inseam—six or nine inches.”
“Oh,” I stammered, “I have no idea. He’s in 4th grade and just moved into husky sizes. But… six or nine inches? I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen a live one, but—”
“Ma’am,” he clarified, “I’m talking about the inseam measurement.”
Raising three boys as a single mom presents its share of obstacles, but surprisingly, I feel fortunate. The reality is, as the mother of three boys, I only have to keep track of three penises in the world. In contrast, mothers of girls have to worry about all the penises out there. So, buying Goober by the case doesn’t seem so bad after all.
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Summary:
This engaging piece explores the humorous yet challenging realities of raising three boys as a single mother. From the trials of underwear battles to the unexpected joys of their antics, the author shares her unique experiences and finds a silver lining in the chaos. It highlights the differences between raising boys and girls, ultimately embracing the messiness of motherhood.
Keyphrase: mothering boys
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]