So what do I wish for them?

On Fridays, I sometimes like to repost one of my favorite old posts.

***************************


To my two boys, the loves of my life and the reason my life is worth living:



just a few words from your momma...

Treat people kindly. Respect the elderly. Share your toys.

Laugh a lot.



Violence is not the answer, but self defense is. 

Never, ever start a fight. But you better damn well finish it. 

If I ever find out you are being a bully or partaking in bully-like activity, be prepared to come home to nothing more in your room than a bed, one blanket, and one change of clothes. That includes underwear. Everything will be taken away from you. You will have no privileges and I can only imagine the talking to you will get from your father. Believe me when I say you will feel like you are at the strictest, toughest boarding school ever if you bully another human being. That is, if we don't decide to just send you away to one.

That goes for sticking up for the person you see getting bullied also. Standing back and doing nothing is just as bad as being the bully yourself. Remember that. 

If you want to paint your fingernails pink, paint 'em pink.



However I would prefer you go with "bad-ass black."


(also, don't overdo it on the self tanner like your momma tends to do)

I will at times force you to do things that put you outside your comfort zone. I'll never put you in danger, but sometimes we all need a little "push" in order to overcome our fears.



You can thank me later.

I hope you become strong men, the leader of your household, the provider for your family and the ultimate protector. I hope through my teaching and example that one day you will find a woman to marry who upholds Christian values and has strong moral character. Someone who is not tarnished by the feminist movement and who believes in standing by and sticking with her man. 

I hope that you will always see the value in that and will in turn treat your woman like a goddess, always put her on a pedestal and never think twice about swimming through shark infested waters just to bring her a lemonade.



I hope you always stand up for what is right, even if it's not the popular opinion.
Especially if it's not the popular opinion.

I hope you to stand by your convictions, keep your word and always stay loyal to those whom you love. If you mess up even once, it's hard to get that trust back.

On the other hand, I hope you know that you are not, in fact, superman. You will fail and you will fall down. But it's how you get up and start again that is the true measure of a man.

I hope you always stay close to your momma, but once you are married, your wife is your first priority, and she is the one who matters most. If you marry the right woman, then she should be. 

I hope you raise your own children with an iron first, so they can see what it means to be a strong man and father. However, I hope you aren't too tough that you aren't afraid to cry with your children and show vulnerability. And to always tell them you love them. Tell them everyday. They need that.

Also, get down on the floor and wrestle with them every chance you get.

Thank you for letting me take gazillions of pictures of you. Because we both know that when I present something like this:



what you really feel about my always shoving the camera in your face is this:



Thank you for letting me get those moments on film so I can keep them with me forever.

Also, please forgive me for putting your guys' hair in a ponytail.



And for dressing you up like a girl.


(In my defense, this only happened once)

Never betray your brother. When the whole world is against you, your brother will never leave your side. You may not believe me now, but he IS your best friend.



Respect your country. You may not always agree with the person in power, but remember, it could be a lot worse elsewhere.

Don't believe that you know it all. That couldn't be further from the truth and it just makes you look silly. A wise man knows that he is never done learning.

Hold on to your innocence for as long as possible.

Work hard. Very hard. Get your hands dirty. Your dad and I will always spoil you with love, but when it comes to making a living, that will be completely up to you. Even if we have millions by the time we die, it won't just be handed over to you. You will have to work for every penny.



Please don't be a cat person. Your mom hates cats.

On the other hand, always have a dog in the house. On your worst days, that dog will love you unconditionally. He always will. Even if you forget to feed him or leave him out in the snow. THAT, my friend, is true love right there.

Always open the door for women and the elderly. Give up your seat for the pregnant. Chivalry is becoming a lost art, it's up to you guys to keep it alive.

Let the kids win.

Always lead, never follow.

Unless you are following Jesus Christ.

Just try never to let Him get too far out of your sight.

And always, always, alwaysalwaysalwaysalwaysalways

know just how much I love you.

We went back to school shopping yesterday and the conversation at the check-out went like this:

salesperson: I love that purse you have there.
Gunner: I'm a boy and I love rainbows and hearts.
salesperson: whatever makes you happy!

Salesperson is one smart chick. And of course when Gunner picked out a purse, Colt had to have one also, so for the better part of an hour, there we were, walking around the mall with my two boys swinging their little purses. I'm about 20% positive a few people gave them double takes and maybe even a stink eye here or there, but I can't tell you for sure because I'm also about 100% positive that I didn't give a shit. I wasn't looking at other people to see what their reaction was to seeing two of the most adorable boys on the planet carrying what were clearly "girl" purses.

I mean, it's such a non-issue to me that writing that top paragraph there seems like a waste of blog space. But that's just it, it's a non-issuse to me. And for now, it's a non-issue to my boys. It's how I'm trying to raise them and so far, so good. My boys have no concept of race or social status or so-called differences in others.

And the reason is because of this.

While we were sitting at the food court yesterday, there was an employee cleaning up around us, wiping down tables, etc., who happened to have down syndrome. Being the outgoing and talkative person that he is, Gunner struck up a conversation with her and at the end, asked if she could come home with him and play. It didn't matter that she couldn't exactly respond and converse with him like he is used to, all that mattered to Gunner was that she was a person and Gunner really really likes persons (his word, not mine ;) ). Not once has either of my kids ever asked me why someone looked different than them. Not once has either of them pointed out someone who was "fat, ugly, too tall, too short" or anything other than "hey mom, look at that kid over there, can I go play with him?"

Because in the words of one really smart man,
"A person's a person..." and well, the rest doesn't really matter now does it?

However I know soon, when they get out into the "real world" aka kindergarten and such, they will come home asking questions, repeating things that they have never heard spoken in our household. They will ask me why someone said something derogatory about one of their friends. They will want to know why the littlest kid in their class is always getting picked on. And I'm sure that one day, Gunner will no longer want to take his pink purse to school because he will get his feelings hurt one too many times by bullies making fun of him.

And that breaks my heart, because my boys have the sweetest soul.
They are kind, they are accepting and they just love all persons.

But that's not the real world.
I can protect them and teach them in this little bubble for a while, but inevitably they will have to experience hurt and meanness and prejudice on their own. I can only hope and pray that I have shaped them and taught them to be strong enough to handle it, to stand up to the bullies and even more important, to stand up for those being bullied.

Oh.

And in the words of another wise persons...

"Now swing that pink purse in the air, 
and wave it like you just don't care!"*

FOLLOW ME ON: GOOGLE+ // TWITTER // FACEBOOK // INSTAGRAM // PINTEREST // BLOGLOVIN’

Before I had kids, I never thought I would let them eat dog food. But when you think about it, the ingredients that are in dog food is probably much healthier than the shit that's in chicken nuggets or McDonalds cheeseburgers. I mean, just because it's called "dog food" does not mean it can't be eaten by humans. Or that it isn't healthy for that matter.

I mean, who's to judge?





Before I had kids, I imagined I would be a "cleanly" mother. And I definitely would not let my naked baby sit in the pan we were about to cook dinner in that night.



And I definitely imagined that if that did happen, I would clean said pan before cooking our food in it.

But that was all before I had kids.

(And no, it doesn't make the food taste any different)

Before I had kids, I never thought I would have to grab my camera and snap a picture real quick before comforting them when they were in a sad, vulnerable position.



It's like a secret moms club that no one wants to admit they are a part of but everyone does it.

And before I had kids, I had no idea the immensity of the f*@K I would not give when people gave me their opinions about how to raise my children, such as:

the length of my child's hair...



letting my kids be naked in public...



or letting my three year old paint his toenails black...



And now that I do have kids?





Don't ever wanna go back.

P.S. My little love bug taylorboo got engaged this weekend! If you don't know her, you should definitely get to know her. She is most definitely someone I consider to be a very best friend of mine.



Visit her blog HERE and wish her a congrats on her upcoming nuptials? It's gonna be an awesome wedding, not to mention that yours truly will be a bridesmaid and my two little angel muffs will be the ring bearers. First time ever in a little penguin suite. Momma will be so proud.

What's wrong with this picture.

I know. Absolutely horrible, right?

I mean, look at all that gray in my husband's beard! So not ok. Better get to dying that shit babe. Momma no likie.

Oh wait. You weren't thinking that the fact that my one year old is reaching for the beer that my three year old is pretending to drink was what was wrong with the picture, were you?

Phew. I mean, that's a regular occurrence in our house.

I'm not sure what it was, but on this particular day, the babe was all obsessed with daddy's beer.

Like, had to have it.

For example:

I saw him down on this lil' rock here for an impromptu photo shoot. I had the beer in my hand thinking it would make the babe smile when I "peek-a-booed" it from behind the camera.

Uh. He just got pissed.



And more pissed.



And even more pissed.



'Til I handed it over.


(I can just imagine what he's thinking; "that's right bish. Don't mess with the Boss.")

Then he just chilled.



And showed a hint of a smile.



All is good. Weez happy now.

At least all was good until tragedy struck and the beer can got pierced by a sharp rock. And sprayed all over babe's face.

And then hubs picked it up and shotgunned the rest.

We are fabulous parents.

Oh, say "hey" to my oldest, never wanting to be left out. Pretty sure he knocked the baby off that rock and said baby is just to the right of this picture crying tears of horror.



And yes, that is pink polish on his toenails.

Oh, say "hey" to the hubs again, with his nice frosted facial hair.



Hey hubs.

Oh look, a baby in a tree.



I sat him up there and told him to hang on and not to let go.



For the sake of my mother not getting extremely mad at me, let's just say that he did not in fact fall out of the tree. And not only did he not fall from that tree, but he did not fall flat on his face and cry for a good thirty minutes.

He did not fall from the tree. Are we clear on that?

Good.

You know what I love? This one.



And myself when I'm having a good hair day.



Ok fine. So the baby is having a better hair day than me.

He represents well.