Little boys are noise covered in mud

People tried to warn me what it would be like to have three boys. There are whole books written about the uniqueness of boys and their ways. I read some of these and I took in the comments from seasoned mom's of boys, yet there are days when it is still a shock to my introverted system that I am in a house full of boys, three of which are under five and extraordinarily loud.

Every so often James and I decide we want to attempt eating out with all three. There must be some sort of parental amnesia akin to the delievery amnesia women suffer because we always forget how difficult the previous restaurant visit was. We did this recently. We try to pick "kid friendly" places but really no place is kid tolerant enough for our needs. Luke begins checking out the kid activity sheet and we point him toward the activities that are age appropriate for him. Our Luke, though, is not happy with coloring and connect the dots, he wants to do word searches which bring him a great amount of frustration (he struggles between wanting our help and telling us he can do it by himself - and, no, he cannot spell just yet) which anyone within ear shot will hear about. James is usually trying to reason with Luke on this while I am either bouncing Timothy on my knee or feeding him (although our last trip had me walking the parking lot with him) while trying to keep everything out of Wil's reach. Somewhere in the midst of this James and I attempt at conversation. They all start to fall apart around the time our food arrives so we eat without chewing while the waitperson rushes our payment. On the way home we wonder why we do it. It is a waste of money, it's not terribly enjoyable (although amazingly Luke looks back on such outings and declares them 'fun'), and we pay in other ways for pushing them all beyond their limits. The majority of our ride home involves Timothy screaming - the red-faced, curdled voice kind of scream - Wil yelling out as loudly as possible with more playful, though very loud screams because he thinks T's cries are funny, and Luke counting at the top of his lungs (he is into counting these days and will go as high as he can into the 500's and then start over declaring that he is going to count to googleplex) in an attempt to be heard over his younger brothers. It is truely mind-numbing. I'm not sure why we keep thinking it will be different - insanity maybe. In the end we realize we just want to rub elbows with the outside world, even if we have to bring our chaos into it.

That's the noise part. The mud part will have to come later, just know that the rental home we are now occupying has a dirt lot for a backyard and a garden hose within reach!


janethayes said...

Girl! I have one testerone-laden person in my house, and I can begin to relate to your role as civility-trainer. I decided that eating out had to happen either in the homes of other parents of very young boys, or timed with Ben's hunger. That meant that I had to eaet at approx 5 - 5:30pm and as you said, eat my own meal without chewing. Often I went to the same place over and over. That way, the staff and regular diners would fall in love with Benjamin and have pity with me, or at least celebrate every little step towards proper table manners. Guess what? Your excursions will get better, The boys will (all of them) learn to eat in public before the age of 12. And you will actually enjoy their company. It will happen. Don't give up. Hang in there. I love that you have included some info on Down Syndrome. Kudos. The layout shows that you are getting really good at this computer tech thing. double kudos.
love in Him,

Greg said...

"he is into counting these days and will go as high as he can into the 500's and then start over declaring that he is going to count to googleplex"

That is so very awesome. Seriously.


Ctina said...

And Greg and I want kids eventually why?! lol just kidding

Mary said...

I think that is the exact same description my Mom gives for the times she and my dad tried to take my siblings and I to dinner. I think it gets better by about age 18, but we'll see.
I am so glad to hear you are doing better (as in , y'all aren't as ill).

Mary McGee said...

sorry, I forgot to mention that I was Mary McGee *grins sheepishly*

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