By Crystal Cook of The Qwiet Muse
If you have men of any age in your house, or plan on having them in the future, I encourage you to read this, perhaps study it, maybe even commit small morsels of it to memory. If, after you have pondered it, you still decide to have creatures of the opposite sex in your home, you will at least know, in some small detail, what to expect. Those of you already residing with members of the Geneous Manus Species, will understand and can add in your own chapter or two. As a matter of fact, start your own book; help others in need.
** DISCLAIMER – I totally made that up. Geneous Manus is in no way intended to be considered an actual scientific term. Any similarity to the word genius should be ignored. **
Let me preface this little essay of mine by saying I have nothing against men. I love the men in my life. Sometimes though, they perplex me. They seem to live right on the borders of common sense, logic, and deductive reasoning. They almost get it, but just can’t seem to grasp it. It’s like watching a dog trying to lap up the last drink out of a tall glass. It’s sort of sad, yet funny at the same time.
I live with four male humans. They vary in age. The youngest of my boys at present time is eighteen, and the oldest is approaching forty-seven with reluctance. Sometimes, there is not much difference between them.
** DISCLAIMER – I do not claim to actually have a forty-seven year old child. The eldest of this all male quartet I sarcastically refer to as one of the boys would be the aforementioned children’s father. **
I always wanted a son. I prayed and prayed for a baby boy when I found out I would be blessed with new life. My prayers were answered when they placed my precious little man in my arms. It wasn’t long after that beautiful moment that he peed all over me for the first time. I soon found out baby boys pee on their mothers often. As soon as you wise up and figure out how to shield yourself, they begin to master projectile vomiting.
I’ll never forget the first time I witnessed this phenomena. I placed my sleepy-eyed prince in his crib and stood there, gazing upon my precious babe with all the awe of a new mother, when suddenly this massive geyser opened up and before I could so much as shield my eyes I was dripping with the sweet mother’s milk I’d lovingly fed to him only moments before.
I was horrified and more than a little worried because the amount of ooze that shot out of his tiny little mouth was in no way proportionate to the amount of milk I knew he’d ingested. I’d never seen anything like it. Well, maybe once in a movie, but I thought that was just Hollywood magic. If projectile vomiting had been an Olympic sport he would have medaled. I was totally unprepared to see my infant child play out a scene from the Exorcist.
** DISCLAIMER – I have never actually seen the movie referred to in the previous sentence. I have taken the liberty of using it as an example because I could not think of anything more original. **
The mystery of a young boy’s bodily functions may never be solved. I don’t think anyone is even trying to figure them out. Thank goodness they outgrow it.
No, that’s a lie. I just lied to you. They do not outgrow it; they perfect it. It’s not long before they are no longer content to pee on you, the parent. Instead they often choose to pee anywhere and everywhere. When they graduate from diapers to big boy pants their target of choice is the toilet seat, the wall behind the toilet, or the floor around it and sometimes the dog.
** DISCLAIMER – It was my neighbor’s kid that sullied the dog. The only living things my boys have ever peed on were my husband and I. Oh, and one time one of them tinkled on the neighbor kid. **
**** DISCLAIMER TO DISCLAIMER – I made that up as well. My boys never tinkled on the neighbor kid. It was his word against theirs . . . I just made that up too. None of it happened. My kids never did anything like that. I am becoming such a liar. ****
Anyway, by the time I’d potty-trained my third son, I’d logged more hours scrubbing down toilets and bathroom floors than a prisoner serving a life sentence. I just can’t understand it. God made it easy for them; all they have to do is point and shoot, right? How hard can it be to aim?
I actually learned a valuable lesson from my youngest son one afternoon. He was four, he’d been in the bathroom for quite some time and, since that always fills me with a sense of dread, I opened the door to find out what he was doing when he didn’t answer. He was peeing.
I should have closed the door.
I opened my big mouth and asked him why he’d been in there so long.
Here is the lesson I learned: do not question a young boy while he is peeing. Why? Because some of them cannot simply turn their head to look at you; they must turn their whole body. Needless to say, I had to sterilize my feet and throw out my socks.
They also begin to find humor in the various substances and sounds they emit. I will not even take the time to cover this topic. There are very few ways to delicately explain the male rituals that take place concerning these things. Let’s just say the females in the household are made to listen, smell, and hear about them on a regular basis.
** DISCLAIMER – Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Girls do it too. Whatever. I’m harping on the boy children; girls are in the next chapter. **
The male gender does not always seem to understand the necessity of clean clothing. If allowed, they will wear the same socks for a week. Pants and shirts absent of obvious stains which emit low odor vapors are still acceptable to them. They do not feel holes, tears, or loose hems are of any consequence. They will wear torn jeans that show off their skivvies, and consider the undergarment as simply a patch covering the hole from the inside.
The male (Geneous Manus) eating ritual is another thing that’s boggled the minds of mothers and wives everywhere. Many of them will fill their mouths so they have food stored in either cheek while they attempt to chew what is stuck in the middle. Once that is gone, they will enjoy the food from one cheek and then the other. They will fill their forks and spoons with so much food they have to open their mouths wider than looks humanly possible to stuff it in. They will eat food left out overnight, they believe wholeheartedly in the “five second rule,” and they will continue to eat well after they are full if there is still food on the table. They will eat cereal out of mixing bowls with a soup ladle if the appropriate dishes are not clean.
When they begin to mature and care more about their appearance they will use deodorant beneath a less than fresh shirt. They will trim their fingernails and toenails, leaving the clippings wherever they may fall, and they will wipe the crumbs from their shirt before leaving the table. Again, leaving them where they fall.
** DISCLAIMER – While there is no actual scientific evidence that men mature, I have personally chosen to believe it can happen. It gives me some hope to cling to. **
Both the young and the old alike will leave their shoes anywhere it is certain a woman will trip over them. When they finally decide a garment is no longer wearable, they will deposit it on the floor just a few feet away from the hamper. They have been known to watch the weather channel for hours if the remote is more than arms’ length away, and no matter how long they have lived in their home, they never know where anything is.
Whether it be a husband, son, father, grandfather, or stray neighbor kid, you will find they all exhibit these same habits and traits to one degree or another. Without them I suppose life would be boring. What would women talk about if the world were perfect? We need the male species to keep us entertained, to keep our cars running, and our sinks unclogged. For these and many others reasons we keep them around. We marry them, we give birth to them, we love them, we tolerate them, and we thank God for them.
** DISCLAIMER – I know women are capable of doing these things but it makes men feel important to think we can’t. If they feel important they are better behaved. **
Someone just went into the bathroom so I must gather my cleaning supplies. I wonder if it would overload their circuitry if I made them clean it themselves.
This post was originally published on The Qwiet Muse.
About Crystal Cook
Crystal Cook, otherwise known as Qwietpleez here on the interwebs, goes by many names, most notably, Mommy. Proud wife and mother of four, she is an Autism Warrior Momma and advocate for those with special needs and their families. She writes about life and love, the good and the bad, the serious and the silly over at The Qwiet Muse to retain what is left of her sanity. Sometimes to make some spare change for venti iced coffees, she occasionally writes about other things. She is new(ish) to blogging and socializing, and is a recent and reluctant hashtag user, which she stubbornly maintains should be referred to as an octothorpe. Her hobbies include sleeping in and defending the oxford comma. You can find her musings on Facebook, on Twitter, and of course, at The Qwiet Muse.