I never found out the sex of my children before I gave birth. And I often had no idea at all what I was having.
Except with #4. I just knew he was a boy.
From when we met hubby had said if we had a son together he was going to be called Floyd. I hated it. As it appears did everyone else – the card we got given from my sister for #2 reads “thank god you’re a Mia and not a Floyd”
I grew to love his name. It was unique. A bit like him.
All toddlers are active, busy, inquisitive, messy. This kid takes it to a new level and beyond.
He likes mobile phones. To date we are up to dad replacing 4 iPhones. Dad has a sleep machine. We have replaced 4 parts of that he has broken.
Floyd loves cars. In particular the windscreen wipers on the back, or rather ripping them off. He’s done this twice to relatives and friends. He also loves climbing on cars. I drive a van, dad a sedan. He climbs like a monkey on top of both, and jumps up and down till we retrieve him. The roof of dad’s car is dented from his acrobatics.
Every day he destroys the house. Toilet rolls in the toilet, cleaners upended in the bathroom, every item in every cupboard dragged though the house. Terrorises his siblings, drags the baby around the floor, he’s locked his sister in a recycling bin, has run away from home and threatened to move out.
Im sure you’re getting my drift.
Last week I experienced another first as a mother with Floyd.
He is currently toilet training. To date TT has been easy for me. #1 and 2 were easy, and #2 trained #3. I have never experienced a kid pooing their pants. Never. I have heard stories and it made me nauseous.
Until last week.
I was bathing the baby and he wandered in, and before he said anything I just knew. 18 years of being a mum and it had happened.
And it was epic.
I shoved him in the shower, undies and all, and the poo wouldn’t go down the drain, so I was pushing it down with my foot – while holding a screaming baby, thinking life couldn’t get any lower as a parent.
Then again, there’s always tomorrow.