Early on I earned my street cred as I mastered the art of taming the teeny peenie. Things every Boy Mom must know like which way to point them so they don't pee themselves out of every single diaper or not to let too much cool air get all down in there save for getting a little pee-bath.
Between you and me? Let's just say that's more of a, well, trial and error process and thank god those things are bendy.
I've stepped on mega blocks and Matchbox cars in the middle of the night. My purse and pockets are full of sticks, rocks, egg shells and other "treasures" that we've stumbled upon during our daily nature walks. Just the other day when I went to pay for my purchases at Target, I pulled a Thomas the Tank Engine from my wallet as I dug for a couple of quarters.
Lately, I've quickly learned more about diggers, excavators and backhoes in the last three months than I've ever really cared to know of in all my twenty-nine years. I've even been known to pull off to the side of the road to get a better look at the "ca-struct-shun."
I've choked back a little vomit to pick up a driveway slug and let it slime my toddler's hands. I've thrown caution to the wind and bought stock in Color Safe Bleach as I let him run rampant through the muddy backyard literally encouraging him to find more mud.
If I didn't know any better, I should start brushing up on my boy-speak, practicing phrases like "that's so rad!" and "cool dude!" and "way to go, tiger!"
I know with each day that passes, my boys and I are growing more and more different. Soon we'll be separated by different languages, different interests and different emotions. I know that there will be a day that comes when they'll ask me about transmissions, transistor radios, soccer penalties and Major League Lacrosse teams and sadly, I will be none the wiser.
I know there will come a day when they won't want to run errands or go for a "quickity-quick buh-bye ride in the car with Mama." When they won't eagerly divulge the events of their little days away from me.
All too soon there will be a day when I'm no longer the love of their lives, the one they run to with made-up stories or the hand they reach for while outside for a walk.
But for right now? I'll savor the moments that I am their first love, the mender of broken hearts and skinned knees, the one who tucks them in at night, kisses their tiny foreheads and tucks herself into bed with Major League Lacrosse for Beginners on her Kindle.