Tonight my status on Facebook was "having sons is not for the faint of heart." After I posted that, I started thinking about all of the things that brought this status into existence.
For almost 10 years I had a daughter. Although Kourtney wasn't a "girlie girl", things were some what normal in the Collins household. Along came Alex in the spring of 2003. Things were still calm, cool, and collected in our house.
But in the winter of 2009, Nick was born. Everything changed. Everything. I thought that since Alex had been a kid that you could sit on a pallet in the floor with some toys and get housework done that Nick would be too. Wrong!
Nick could not be contained by a pack and play. He climbed out. You could not turn your back on him for a second. He was out the front door and by that I mean LOCKED front doors.
When Nick started walking and climbing, I learned the meaning of the phrase "no fear". I swear, that kid has not one single drop of fear in his body. He stands on the back of the couch and dives off like it's no big deal.
He's four now and he can get the best of his big brother. I don't have to worry about Alex hurting Nick. I have to worry about Nick hurting Alex. I have no doubt that I will see him in a wrestling ring one day.
I've learned that the words poot, boogers, poopie, and other words bringing on endless rounds of laughter. (I won't even discuss the effects of bodily functions has on Nick and his brother) And I'm not proud to admit this but his favorite nickname for anyone is poot poot. I don't know how he came up with it and I do try to discourage name calling.
"I love you, Nick," I'll say.
"I love you too, poot poot," he responds. It's really hard to discourage that when he's one of the cutest kids I've ever laid my eyes on with those big brown eyes and kissable cheeks.
The other day we were playing in the front yard. A neighbor walked down the street. "Hey, poot poot." And if this wasn't embarrassing enough, he turns around and says, "I called her poot poot." I really wanted to crawl into the shrubs and hide.
Yes, like I said, I have tried many, many times and ways to discourage him from calling anyone poot poot. He's at that rebellious, independent stage where most of what I say is just not important to him. I know that in time, it will all sink in and he will grow out of the poot poot stage.
Earlier I mentioned that Alex's toddler stage was normal but once he became a big brother at the age of 5, a lot changed with him. Apparently, I gave birth to a tag team. They work off of each other and they have each others backs.
Notice all of the wrestling references?
Our Monday nights are spent watching WWE Raw. Friday nights are dedicated to Smackdown. Most of the first Saturday nights of the month are spent watching the very talented wrestlers at TSW in Union, SC. (and to be quite honest, I enjoy the TSW shows way more than any WWE event I've attended)
Maybe I should have said that I'm watching Raw and Smackdown because my boys are participating. They can't just sit down and watch. Nearly every move has to be demonstrated in the living room floor. It gets a little scary sometimes. Nick is famous for copying Zack Ryder's "woo woo woo". They have the attitudes down to a T.
Many nights when I go to bed, I have to clear about 30 wrestling figures, a ring, ladder, stretcher, and other wrestling paraphernalia out of my bed. (Mommy has the best bed for holding wrestling matches) One night I didn't clear them all back and rolled over onto Sheamus. Ouch!
But you know what? I'm not complaining. I love this life. I wouldn't have it any other way. One day my boys are going to be grown and gone. And hopefully Mommy will be living in a mansion that they built her from their earnings from wrestling. But whatever they decide to be when they grow up, I'll be happy and proud of them. Whatever career path they follow, I'm behind them all the way. I just want them to be happy. The kind of happiness that they get from jumping off the back of the couch, or calling neighbors poot poot, or leaving wrestlers all over my bed. I love this life.
So to the mamas of little boys, including my cousin, Dawn, who just had a beautiful baby boy a few months ago, I say this: buckle up, get your Prozac filled, and hang on. It's going to be a BUMPY ride and I promise you'll love it. You'll come out a stronger and more patient person than you ever dreamed you could be. And I also promise that you will never be bored or lack for entertainment.
My boys:
Ok, I had said that Alex didn't get into anything but there was this one time...
My messy haired boys looking out the front door one morning.
Nick smooshing his nose against the glass of Mikey the chick's house.
Nick says that pants are better worn on the head.
Alex with Deon Johnson at TSW in Union, SC
Alex with Deon's belt.
Alex with Matt Hardy.
