Here are a few crafts we’re working on at Faemom’s.  All crafts are kid friendly.  Depending on the age and the ability of the child will depend on how much the child can and how much you do.  Stay tune because I’m still working on hot coco mix, dipped cookies, shell ornaments, pinecone ornaments, and decorative candles.

Applesauce Cinnamon Ornaments

I know.  I know.  I published this last year, but I never got around to doing them last year.  I did do them two years ago.  So I did them this year, and I learned a lot more.  Evan (4) and Sean (2) helped mix the clay, roll the clay, and cut the clay with cookie cutters.  This is an easy recipe to multiply or divide.

Things you need:

½ cup applesauce

½ cup and 2tbs of cinnamon (this doesn’t have to be exact.  I just found I needed a little more cinnamon to make it less sticky.)

Bowl

Spoon

Wax paper

Rolling pin

Cookie cutters

Straw

Ribbon

Mix the applesauce and cinnamon.  You want a clay consistency, not too sticky, not too dry.  Roll the clay out in between two sheets of wax paper.  Roll it to a ½ in to 1/3 in thickness.  Too thick and it’ll take forever to dry.  Too thin and you can’t get it off the wax paper.  Cut out shapes with the cookie cutter.  Use the straw to make a hole for the ribbon.  Carefully remove the ornament with a knife and your fingers.  (This is when you realize it’s too thin or sticky.)  Move the ornament to a fresh piece of wax paper to dry.  (Because we’re in cramp quarters I placed mine on a wax papered cookie sheet, so they could be easily moved away from little hands at any time.)  If you need to leave the project, you can save the clay in a plastic container with a lid in the fridge for at least a week.  Let the shapes dry for two to three days.  Thread a ribbon through the hole and tie.

Metal Juice Lid Ornaments

I made these in Girl Scouts years ago.  Then I saw it online last year, and I thought it was a nifty idea.  Of course, you have to have metal juice lids, which can take some time to collect.  This is defiantly an older kid project.

Things you need:

Metal juice lids

A small wood board

A nail

A hammer

Ribbon

Marker (optional)

If you like, you can draw the dots of on the lid before you nail.  You can see the marker after you’re done, but mine looked better than when I free-handed it.  (Of course, that could just be me.)  Put the lid on the board.  Place the nail over the lid near the top.  Hammer the nail through the lid.  Since this is where you’ll run the ribbon, you might want to make this your biggest hole.  Continue to make holes of the design you want.  I made initials.  When finished, thread the ribbon through the top hole and tie.  (I am curious to see if these can be painted or polished, which will be an experiment for another time.)

Chocolate Dipped Spoons  with Marshmallows

I saw this somewhere in an old craft magazine.  Since I couldn’t find the magazine again, I just winged it.  Children can help dipping the spoons.  Because mine kept trying to eat the chocolate, they were forced out of the kitchen.

Things you need:

Plastic spoons

Melting chocolate (you can go with chocolate chips, but I went and bought chocolate made for making candies)

Bowl or jar

Wax paper

Plate or cookie sheet

Mini marshmallows

Different colored chocolate (optional)

Spoon or chocolate bag (optional)

Melt the chocolate according to the directions on the bag.  I prefer the double broiler method because I’ve burnt chocolate before (not good).  Dip the spoon to cover the bowl part of the spoon.  Wipe the back of the spoon against the bowl or jar to get excess chocolate off the back.  Place the spoon on the wax paper covered plate or cookie sheet (depending how much room you have in your freezer).  Place marshmallow into chocolate.  Repeat with other spoons until plate or cookie sheet are covered.  Place in freezer until chocolate is hard (anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes).  Dip spoons in chocolate again.  Place back on the plate and back into the freezer.  If you would like, you can melt more chocolate like white or colored to drizzle on the spoons.  When spoons are hardened, dip them for a third time in the chocolate.  If you want to, drizzle the chocolate over the chocolate spoons.  Put into freezer until hard.

This can be done without the marshmallow as well.  You can also flavor the chocolate too.

Gingerbread Men Ornaments

Every year I like to make an ornament with the boys.  This year we’re doing two.  This is the first one.  Both boys, at 4 and 2, were able to do this and had a lot of fun doing it.  I’m sure an 18 month old would be able to make these too.

Things you need:

Brown craft foam (I bet this would work with felt or brown paper)

Gingerbread man cookie cutter or template

Pen

Scissors

Craft foam stickers, markers, crayons, fabric paint, paint, glue, glitter, whatever you want to decorate with.  All things I have mentioned will work.

Hole puncher

Ribbon

Trace the gingerbread cookie cutter or template on the craft foam.  Cut out the gingerbread man.  You may punch the hole for the ribbon now or after the gingerbread man is decorated.  Have the child decorate the gingerbread man.  (Since my boys wouldn’t put eyes on if I didn’t do it, I did that with craft foam dots.)  Punch hole for the ribbon if you haven’t yet done so.  Thread ribbon through the hole and tie.

Pipe Cleaner Candy Canes

This is something we did do last year.  Like three days before Christmas.  I thought if I posted crafts three days before Christmas, someone would shoot me.  But you have to keep young hands busy somehow or else they would be wrecking the tree, getting into the presents, finding the presents, opening up the cookies meant for Christmas.  Evan was three, and Sean was eighteen months.  Evan could do both kinds of candy canes.  Sean did better with stringing the beads as long as I held the pipe cleaner.

Type 1

Things you need:

Red pipe cleaners

White pipe cleaners (You could use green if you like.)

Take the pipe cleaners and twist them together.  Then take the pipe cleaners and form a hook to make it look like a candy cane.

Type 2

Things you need:

Red or white pipe cleaners

Red or white or green pony beads (whatever color is opposite of your pipe cleaner)

Take the pipe cleaner and thread the pony beads on it, leaving space in between to look like stripes.  Take the pipe cleaner and form a hook to make it look like a candy cane.

Need more ideas?  Check out my other posts on Christmas and winter crafts for kids.

Christmas Crafts for Kids, Toddlers, and Babies

More Christmas Crafts for Children, Toddlers, and Babies

Winter and Christmas Crafts for Toddlers and Children

Evan: But I want a baby girl!

Me: Why?

Evan: Because I want to dance with her when she gets older!

Awww!

Me: Well, it’s probably going to be a baby boy.

Evan: How can you tell?

Me: Well, the doctor took a special camera and looked.  She’s pretty sure it’s a boy.

The Husband: Probably?  Pretty sure?

Me: Shut up.  They make mistakes.

Ok, maybe I’m not as resigned to this boy thing as I pretend to be.

But the next person to ask if I’m disappointed, I’ll punch in the face.  Luckily they have only asked my mom, who waves them off with a “Of course not, she’s having a baby.”  But then Christmas is coming with all that family.  This may be an interesting family get-together.

If I had known what the ultra sound room looked like, I would have insisted on a time in which my mom and the boys could have come.  It was roomy with chairs for six with a big flat screen hanging on the wall, hooked to the ultra sound machine.  It was impressive.  Baby delivering was lucrative.

As we started it, the doc asked, “So what do we want?”

The Husband: A Girl!

The Doc:  Then I’ll call her a she until we know.

I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the blurb that turned out to be my baby.  And the little stinker was kneeling.  The med student engaged us in conversation where we mentioned we had two boys already.

Med student: What do they think?

Me: Well, the two year old has no idea what train wreck is going to hit him.  The four year old is pretty excited.  First he wanted a girl.  But then he wanted a bald baby.  So if it’s a bald baby, it has to be a boy.  He decided we’ll name him Kevin.  Or Elephant.

Med Student: Kevin?  Like from Up?!

Me: I guess so.

Doc:  It looks like Kevin is going to be a good name.  More socially acceptable than Elephant.

The Husband: Are you sure?

We stared at the screen as she moved the instrument around for a good picture of the boy parts.

Doc: Well, I checked several times to make sure that wasn’t the umbilical cord.  But that defiantly looks like boy parts. 

Yup.  They sure did.

We watched in silent as she studied the heart and head, explaining what we saw.  Tears formed in my eyes, but I forced them back.

As we left the office with all the pictures, The Husband turned to me.

The Husband: I’m really disappointed.  I totally thought this was a girl.  What are the odds?  Don’t worry, babe, we can always adopt or try again.

Me: I think this will be the last pregnancy.  I don’t know if I can take more vomiting and peeing my pants.  I’m a little disappointed too.  But we really have to rush because I have to make chicken and dumplings at my mom’s.

I told my family as I prepared dinner.  Then when everything was cooking, I called my BFF, who rambled on about her day until I mentioned I went to the doctor.

BFF: Damnit.  I should have called you.  It’s on my calendar!  Well?!

Me: It’s a boy.

BFF: Oh, honey!

Me: I know.  It’s ok.  I only wanted to cry a little bit.

And then I cried.  I cried for five minutes straight.  As my BFF told me it was ok to be disappointed, that it didn’t mean I was a bad mom or that I wouldn’t love the baby any less, it was ok.   I stopped.

Me: So I’m a mom of a troop of boys.

BFF: Yup.

Me: It’s going to be fun.

BFF: Yup.

And I felt better as we talked.

I always pictured having a daughter, even as a child.  But what do I need a girl for?  Someone who would bake and cook with me.  I never wanted to be in the kitchen when I was a kid, unless it was baking.  My brother learned to cook at my mother’s side.  I learned after I left the house.  Did you know there’s a wrong way to eat a tomato?  Someone to shop with me?  I hate shopping, except with certain people.  In college someone would drag me to the mall, and I would sit with the boyfriends (with a backward nod and How’s it going) as I nearly died of boredom as the girl tried on thing after thing.  Play faeries with?  Actually the boys love Tinker Bell.  They love my little pocket toys and my faeries.  I guess I’ll be buying the Tinker Bell movies for Christmas.  Doing a little girl’s hair?  I hate doing hair.  As a little girl, I would cringe as my mom put the dead hair she pulled out of the brush in my hands, and that was after begging and sobbing not to make me hold it.  To teach someone to wear make-up?  I only wear make-up at grown up events.

As I talked to the BFF, I told her what I (and she) believed.  God gives us what we need; not what we want.  How easy would it be to raise a feminist girl?  A tomboy and princess all rolled into one?  Easy.  (So says the woman without daughters.)  But I have to raise feminist boys.  Boys that will go through a stage that girls are yucky, a stage where girls are stupid, a stage when girls are just to mess around with.  I get to crack heads and teach manners.  I have to be stronger to prove women are strong.  I also have to bone up on my sports skills so they know exactly how a girl throws.  (In my peak, I could throw a softball with one bounce from the back of centerfield to home plate.)  I have my work cut out for me, but I plan on raising the good guys that any mother would be proud to call son one day.

I think I cursed myself.  I said on some radical feminist blog that it’s an adult that makes a toy gender specific.  What makes a car a boy toy?  What makes a doll a girl toy?  Then I turned around and told my pen pal that I couldn’t find any craft kits for boys because they were all about making jewelry and spa stuff.  My pen pal asked, “Wouldn’t your boys love making sparkly jewelry?”  Damnit.  Yes, they would.  Just like Evan would be thrilled with a Tinker Bell doll.  And wings. 

As my BFF and I began to end our conversation, she giggled.

Me: What?

BFF: The Husband was sweet to be disappointed.  But I think he wanted you to have a girl because he thinks the boys are for him.  (pause for breath)  What he doesn’t realize is they are all for you.  Besides boys are closer to their mothers.

I smiled.  She was right, as usual.  Didn’t I just read a book about this?

That night as The Husband crawled into bed, he tried to cheer me up because he hadn’t realized I was so over being sad.

The Husband: Babe, you’re going to one protected woman.

I smiled as I pictured myself surrounded by three strapping boys.

Me: Don’t you forget it.

The Husband: Hey, I’m one of them!

Sure, you are.

Thank you to all the wonderful people who commented on A Dark Secret.  You rock my world and made me feel so much better.  I’ll answer everyone later today, but I thought I would get this up for my East coast readers.

My baby brother is a big guy.  He’s 6 foot 5.  A sturdy 6 foot 5.  He’s a walking giant.  And kids love him, especially my kids. 

Recently my brother taught them everything is more fun with their hands up.  This includes the new nightly ritual when we leave.  The boys are buckled up.  Evan shouts, “Uncle M!  We’re ready for some fun!”  Evan and Sean throw their hands in the air.  My brother grabs a hold of the luggage rack and rocks the hell out of my SUV.

And now Evan insists that we wait for Mommy to be in the car, so that I too can’t enjoy the fun.  I just hope the shocks will last.

One of the best things about being a mother is that your kisses make everything better.  They’re magical.  Amazingly, my boys believe in that magic as I kiss away the pain.

Last night the boys had a scuffle, which is now par for the course.  Sean received an injury.  Nothing serious, just a little energetic move by Evan.  Sean came moaning to me.

Sean: Mommy!  I hurt!

He rubbed his head.  I gathered him up onto my lap and kissed his head 

Me:  All better.

Sean: Thank you, Mommy!

I slid out of my lap, walked over to the TV, and carefully bumped his head on the TV stand. 

 Sean:  Ow!  Mommy!  I hurt!

He rubbed his head and walked back to me.  I stifled a laugh and kissed his head.

Me: All better.

Sean: Thank you, Mommy!

He walked away.  He knelt down by the coffee table and carefully bumped his head.

Sean: Ow! Mommy!  I hurt!

He rubbed his head and walked back to me.  I laughed.  I pulled him onto my lap.

Me: Sean., you don’t have to get hurt to get kisses.

Sean:  I hurt!

I kissed him, and he slid off my lap and walked back to the coffee table.

Me: Sean!  Don’t hurt yourself!  Mommy will give you kisses whenever you want them.  Just tell me you want some.

Sean shot me a dubious look.  Then he lifted his head to aim it for the coffee table.

Me: No, Sean.  No hurting yourself.

He went back to trying.  I dove and covered him kisses.

Sean:  Thank you, Mommy!  I all better.

He walked away.

I have a secret.  It’s buried deep within me.  I don’t want it out.  But I think you’ll understand.

When I decided to get pregnant, I spent months agonizing over the decision.  I weighed the pros and cons.  I knew I wanted another child.  But was it practical?  Was it a need?  Was it a smart decision?  We’re in a rental home, and The Husband is rebuilding his business in a time of economic down turn.  I had my hands full with the boys.  I had other issues that I should be deal with.  But I still wanted that child.  It didn’t seem logical.  In fact, it was quite illogical.  Stupid as I made my list of cons.  I hate doing something stupid.  But there it was a calling to have another child.  A strong desire that I had only felt once when working towards college and picking the unpractical degree of Creative Writing.

So then I asked the really hard question.  Did I want another child or just a daughter?  If it was a daughter, then I might as well start saving for adoption.  I began research over adoption, foreign and domestic.  I continued to analyze my want.  In the end, I realized I wanted another child.  I be perfectly happy with another son.

So after months of praying, thinking, meditating, I told The Husband, who had no idea I was going through such a mental crisis, that I truly wanted another child.  He was already on board.  But since I couldn’t deny a little girl would be nice, I decided to naturally switch the odds in my favor.

Tomorrow I’ll find out if I did.

And I’m nervous.

What if I wasn’t really honest with myself after all that soul searching?  What if I truly wanted a daughter so bad my heart bled with want?  What if I’m disappointed that it’s a boy? 

I wasn’t disappointed with the first two pregnancies.  I thought I could always have another.  With Evan, we found out the moment he entered the world and the doctor checked.  My mom and The Husband were so sure he would be a girl, but he was a boy.  I was so excited that I kept saying “it’s a boy” over and over again.  With Sean we decided to find out just so we could have everything ready.  The Husband, Evan, and I stared at the screen as the technician rolled the instrument over my belly.  She announced, “It’s a boy.”  The Husband asked if she was sure.  She was very sure.  I said, “We’re still buying a play kitchen.”  The Husband was worried I would be disappointed, kept watching for signs that I didn’t love the baby enough.

Any mother would find that preposterous.  How could I not love my baby to the fullest extent of my heart and beyond?  Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter.  It’s my baby.  So I know that if the little bean is a boy, I will love him to the point of breaking my heart.  And thanks to Raising Boys Without Men, I feel more comfortable with the thought of raising men who won’t run off and forget their mom. 

But what if tomorrow there is just a moment of disappointment?  Just a slight part of a second where I realize I won’t have a daughter.  I think I will cry for that moment of doubt.  But to make it worse, what if The Husband sees that flicker of disappointment across my face?  Because he won’t understand.  He’ll always wonder if I don’t love my third son as much as the other two because he was another boy. 

This is why I hate opening up presents in front of people.  Sure, there are things I truly want, sometimes expect to get.   But there’s that brief moment of empty disappointment over realizing you didn’t get what you want.  Sure, you’re extremely ecstatic that you got this awesome present from people who thought about you and love you, but it wasn’t really what you wanted.  Your voice sounds fake to your own ears as you thank them.  The disappointment fades off as you brag about the gift to other people, but you always wonder if the givers ever knew you weren’t really excited those first few minutes.

Part of me doesn’t want to know tomorrow.  There’s a chance hope will die.  But in its place will be love and excitement.  I wish I could know without anyone there, without worrying about what I feel or say or think or look like.  I just want to absorb the fact.  If I thought The Husband would understand, I would ask if they could just put it in an envelope for us to look at later, and then I could open it without anyone there.  But The Husband is super excited.  He hated waiting to find out Evan was.  I don’t think I could sell him on the envelope idea.

Doubt about God, Heaven and Hell, the brilliance of Shakespeare, I can handle.  I don’t know if I can handle doubting myself.

I was scrambling eggs as Evan watched.

Evan: Mommy!  I want to be like Papi!  I’m going to grow as tall as Papi!  I’m going to have a big, fat tummy like Papi!  I’m going to like the same football team as Papi!  The Dallas Cowboys!

Ah teaching moment about obesity.

Me:  That’s wonderful Evan!  You can be whatever you want to be.  But it’s not good to be fat.

Evan: But Papi is!

Me: Well, yes.  But we want Papi to lose some weight because it’s not healthy for him.  We should play more sports with him.

Evan: So I’ll go on a diet with Papi.  Then we can have big, fat tummies together!

OK.  Not the best teaching moment.  Just let it go.

Two hours later I was telling the story to The Husband.

Evan: No, Mommy!  I want to be like Uncle M!  I’m going to grow as big as Uncle M!  Because I want to be big enough to get the lollipops down!  (When he visits our house, my brother likes to tease the boys by putting the lollipop container on a shelf that only he at 6’5” can reach.)  Then I can go to work and be able to buy anything my heart wants!

Me: That’s a good plan.

It was a horrible morning.

My wallet was gone.  You decided to be up cage fighting before dawn.  Before Dawn.

There were glimmers of hope.

Your father watched you in hopes I slept in against the noise.  (But that’s his superhero ability.)  I got some emails from some of my favorite people.  It turned out I left my wallet at the last store we were at yesterday, but really that would be your fault.

Then I took you out of the house.

I should have known it was a bad idea.

It took my twenty minutes to get shoes and socks and jackets on you.  By the way, jackets are not optional when your mom declares you have to wear them.  And Sean, it’s not funny to keep choosing the other jacket from the one that’s in my hand.

I nearly had to drag you across the parking lot to get to the store with my wallet.  Then you danced merrily as I talked to three different people in search for my wallet I was told was there 30 minutes before.  At least, they had it.  Then I dragged you back across the parking lot.  Evan begging for lunch at a “restaurant” doesn’t work if you’re being a pain in the butt.

Then I needed to go to the grocery store.  Then my brain must have stopped working because I also decided I might as well hit the dollar store before the grocery store because they’re right next to each other.

Which worked out well for the first two minutes.

Then you had to sword fight with the candy-filled plastic candy canes, ask for different ornaments, and innocently suggest we go down the aisle with the picture frames and candles.

I should have known better.  The aisle led to the toys.  I can only thank God that I can say “We’ll put it on your list” because it makes you leave faster than a no.  We were still there too long.  And Evan, what is it with you and the most disgusting, ugliest toys?

At least you both we’re adorable for the cashier as you entertained her with pirate stories.

The grocery store wasn’t so bad at first either.  You helped me find apples, cucumbers, and onions.  You even liked the broccoli idea.

Then we got to pick out dried fruit.  Then Evan decided, after we made our decision on the dried plums you both just had to have, that he wanted dried cranberries.  Next time, little dude.  Then the whining began.  For three aisles.  Enough for a woman to shoot me a dirty look that I was happily willing to return because it was the third aisle.  Like she knew that my kids acted this way all the time.  He’s whining, annoying true, but he’s not stealing toys.  And Sean, running around, not standing in one place, must move at all times.  Ah, good times.

The whining settled to a dull roar as I finished the grocery shopping.  Could you both not take off at the last five feet before we get to the cookie stand with blinking lights?  Because you almost knocked down some old women to get there, trapping me behind a line of carts.  I hate that.

Evan, the answer is no.  Again.  No to the sting cheese.  No to that cheese.  No to the chips.  No to the cookies.  No to the doughnuts.  No to the Christmas decorations.  No to the toy car.  No.  No.  No.

Then the dire warning about listening to me, standing still, being good in the checkout lane fell out of your ears as we crossed the aisle to the checkout.

Just as you were about to act out, Evan engaged the woman in front in a conversation, who said “Are you listening to your mommy?”  You became quiet and intent on the woman.  Then Evan had a nice conversation with her.  Sean stayed by me.  Evan helped me with emptying out the cart.  I swear the woman was a saint. 

Of course as soon as she left, you tried to follow her.  My attention was torn between the cashier and keeping you in the store.  As we left, I discovered “the treat” I was trying to brag you with, the cardboard gingerbread house, had been moved.  It was gone.  The whining started again as I demanded you climb on the cart, keeping your feet up. 

At least you snacked as I loaded the car.  But if tomorrow is anything like today, I’m packing up, and you’re living with your grandparents.

Browsing throw the library, I came across Raising Boys without Men: How Maverick Moms are Creating the Next Generation of Exceptional Men by Peggy Drexler, Ph.D.  I was curious, so I checked it out.  I am raising two boys, perhaps three.  The book was fascinating!

I originally assumed the book would be about single mothers raising sons, but it was much, much more.  Drexler began her Ph.D. thesis studying stable lesbian couples who were raising boys.  For the book, she started studying single mothers by choice as well as some divorced and widowed mothers.  Drexler wanted to see exactly what the issues where for boys who were raised without a father figure.  She found that boys without fathers did just as well as those with fathers.  In fact, the boys studied were more well-rounded, more emotional in touch, and better able to articulate themselves than the boys who had fathers.

Drexler found that mothers encouraged their sons to talk, never allowing them to shut their mothers out with one word answers.  These mothers allowed their sons to embrace their own sense of masculinity.  These mothers actively sought out good male role-models for their sons, and these mothers took an active interest in whatever these boys were.  It is good parenting that raises good children, not a good mom or good dad.

The husband was a little worried at first that I was planning a divorce.  Like that’s something I want to do at five months along.  But I got this book because I’m 50% responsible for turning my boys into men, and I need to be active in their lives.

While reading this book, I realized I do let The Husband take the more physically active role with the boys.  I’m making a bigger effort to wrestle and play sports with the boys.  I’ve started dragging us on hikes and to parks.  I’ve got to make a bigger effort in teaching them to ride bikes and play baseballs, soccer, and basketball.  If I want to be a good parent, I have to be the emotional, physical, hands-on, intelligent parent all at once.

Then I read about one mom allowed her son to wear nail polish when he wanted.  He was a soccer player and love to build things.  He was a typical boy, who just wanted to wear nail polish every once in a while.  Then a few days after reading this excerpt, Evan asked for his nails to be painted blue.  I asked him what his dad would say (because The Husband was at a college football game).  Evan smiled and replied, “He’ll say, ‘That’s awesome, Evan!’”  I called The Husband and explained the whole thing after I painted Evan’s nails.  Unfortunately when Evan did proudly show his blue painted nails, The Husband groaned an oh-no.  We had a little talk about Evan’s self-esteem, masculinity, and that no this does not mean your son is gay.   Because I read this book, I was more comfortable with my choice to let the boys explore everything from baking to nail polish to fairy wings.

The biggest lesson I learned was I didn’t have to let my boys grow apart from me.  I’ve worried from the day Evan was born that one day he would walk away from me because that’s what boys do.  He would create a wall between us, never calling me when he left home, always spending holidays with his wife’s family, leaving me wondering, calling, begging for his attention.  Then I had another boy and possibly another, and before I read this book, I saw my old age becoming a very lonely place.  But Dexler interviewed adult men who were raised without fathers, and they all talked about the importance of their mothers, calling them for advice, seeing them on weekends, and still playing one on one on the backyard court.  I realized I could have that.  I wanted that.  God willing, I will have that with my boys.

I’m going to buy this book because I’m sure I’ll need the advice every now and then.  I think this is an important book to read for all mothers, with sons or daughters, with husbands or not, because it gives some good advice from women who are doing it right.  It also exonerates mothers from being the villain that ruined the kids life because she was too intense with her love.  It’s nice to have someone tell you that you can’t love your kid enough.

I had pulled the boys from their bath, and they, as their custom, ran into the family room to huddle in their towels.  I made sure that they were watching child appropriate television programming.  Evan was huddled on the arm chair.  Sean stood with his towel like a cape.  I turned my back to get a diaper in the bedroom.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of water hitting plastic.

Sean must have found one of The Husband’s water bottles and is dumping it out.  I turned to scold. 

Only Sean didn’t have a water bottle.

He was peeing, on accident, into a snack bowl someone had left in the middle of the floor.  The pee was perfectly filling the bowl.  I stood in shock, not wanting to say anything in case Sean moved, making more of a mess.  When he was done, I ran out of the room to get paper towels.

Me: Sean!  You peed! 

Sean: I sorry!

Me: No, it was an accident.  We just need to get you to the potty.

Sean: I sorry!

I hugged and kiss Sean.

Me: It’s ok, Seanny.  It was an accident.  Next time we’ll get to the potty.