If Men are from Mars...

If men are from Mars, then that explains why Wyatt makes absolutely no sense to me. Keep in mind this child has only been 4 years old for a little over a month. We have been watching caterpillars in our front yard for a couple of days. They are everywhere! Some are furry and white, and some are the usual yellow and black. I have been explaining the caterpillar's life cycle to Wyatt, and showing him what a chrysalis is. One of the furry yellow and black ones has begun to make its chrysalis next to the hinge side of our front door. Very cool. Wyatt is now extremely protective of all caterpillars, and has really begun to develop an appreciation for them. Just a little while ago, he came into the house screaming and crying about a caterpillar, so I went outside with him to check. I still have no idea what the fuss was about. He kept crying and going on about how a crab killed and ate the furry white caterpillar that was on our impatiens plant, and how the crab is hiding in a hole. I tried to get him to show me the hole, or the crab, but no luck. Sigh. Only tears.

Most of you who know me really well already know that Wyatt is at a stage in his life where it's best that he not be taken out into public. There are a few reasons for this:

1. He sometimes screams, "No! Help me! Somebody help me!" as I'm stuffing his flailing body into the car and strangers stop and consider calling 911.
2. He sometimes screams, "Hush, Mom! I told you NO!"
3. He sometimes screams, "Stop! I'll beat you silly!", just like he did at Mardel yesterday while a bunch of older ladies stood around and stared in horror.
4. He likes to run away.
5. He is extremely (and I mean EXTREMELY) loud.

Today we went out and ran a couple of brief errands, including stopping at Barnes and Noble. Wyatt, of course, didn't want to leave because there was a really cool Thomas train set in the kids' section. Let the screaming and fighting commence. I spanked him in the parking lot and told him that he had to spend some time in his room after we got home, and that's exactly what happened.

When I went to tell him that he could come out of his room, he said, "Mom, it's broken."

"What's broken?" I asked.

"I said it's broken, Mom!" Geez, cranky.

Sigh. "What is broken, Wyatt?" (Losing my patience.)

"This." He ran his finger all along his chest and stomach. "My heart is broken."

All I can say is, I'm glad a hug and a burrito with salsa and cheese can mend a broken heart.

The Only Female in a Male Household

It has been a very long time since my last post. I explained to a friend of mine it was because nothing remotely interesting has happened to me lately, and the cat seems to be mellowing out. After today I got to thinking about my experiences as a mother to two boys. I know several moms out there who are the only female in an all-male household, and I wonder if they have the same experiences as I do.

First of all, there's the issue with my bra. Now, you could have a little girl and still have this problem. Oh, the bra. Not just for boobs anymore. It makes a great harness for little ones who ride on your hip. I'd have to estimate that at least half of the Oklahoma City metro area has seen my bra collection. When I'm carrying Ben, he grabs hold of the bra cup just like it's some sort of handle. A lot of the time he misses and just grabs my shirt. This is where the flashing begins. He'll tug on the shirt and voila! Everyone around me sees the bra. Last night I was at Target in the checkout line, not paying any attention, until I hear a man say, "whoa". I look down and half my bra is exposed. Great. Shake it off. Shake it off.

Then there's the issue of the makeup. All kids like to watch their parents do stuff, like watch their dads shave, and their moms fix their hair or put on makeup. I have a baby gate in the doorway of the bathroom, and the boys like to stand there and watch what I'm doing. This has resulted in Wyatt stealing my mascara and doing some serious beautification to himself. Ben's time hasn't come yet. He can't climb the gate.

Finally, the feminine products. You can read an earlier blog post about pads, when Wyatt thought putting one on his foot would make his headache go away. Today he fell and skinned his knee. Just a few minutes before I started this post, he came out of my bathroom with a pantyliner stuck to his knee. He told me he found a band-aid.

"Look, Mom! I found a band-aid!"

"What? That's not a band-aid." Then I noticed Phillip had just got home from work and was in the front yard. "Hey! Go show your dad your band-aid." I said.

Then Wyatt took off out the front door just as I realized Phillip had brought someone he works with home. I don't think I had ever met the guy, and this wasn't exactly the encounter I wanted him to remember me by.

"Get back in here, Wyatt!!!" Then Wyatt cried, of course, 'cause I had to peel his band-aid off.

Being the only girl makes me some strange, fascinating life form. Almost alien-like in my own household.