I haven't written much the past few weeks because frankly I have been finding being a mother of only boys hard lately.
One of my hidden secrets is that I'm actually a mother to 2.5 boys, the .5 boy will be named 15 until 14 turns 15 next Monday (okay 14 is now 15 because I've taken so much time off from blog world his birthday is past) and then 14 will be 15 and 15 will become 15b - I know, confusing, so perhaps I'll settle this by just referring to him as 15b.
15b is my part-time foster son - not technically because the process was halted by CCAS because we were taking too long and 15b was becoming unstable. What they were actually inferring was that 15b's acting out was ALL OUR FAULT and none of theirs and definitely not a product of their draconian system. They do want him to spend as much time as possible with us because they consider us incredibly positive influences and perhaps our involvement will be what makes him grow into one of the few success stories.
Also I think they want him to spend as much time with us as possible because it means less work for the group home and I pay for everything - a win-win for them.
So I'm the mother of 2.5 boys, the wife of a boy and the owner of a pissy male cat who spends his time bitter. And I have no ovaries.
A side note, 9 asked if I'm now a man because I have no ovaries. Thanks 9 for making me feel better - I have no ovaries and only one breast but yes, I am still the woman who gave birth to you and nursed you for 2 years and man, you owe me.
So back to the beginning of the story.
I'm finding it really hard being the mother to only boys and in my personal history I was a tomboy, I desperately wanted to be a boy with all their freedoms: playing war, climbing trees, spending as much time in the woods as I possibly could, hanging out with boys ... in fact, I entered grade 9 wearing only denim! So why don't I get them? 15 is crass, rude, a bully to 9, annoying, lazy ... 9 is irritating, narcissitic, ego-centric, volatile, hyper-sensitive, refuses to sleep in his own room ...
... and don't get me started on the smell and broken furniture. I'll never stop writing!
Part of the reason I took so long to post is because I knew this not-quite-finished essay thick with self pity was waiting for me and I wasn't ready to deal with it. But after being told to get my act together and start writing, I figured after two glasses of wine, it was time.
And I know my life will swing like a 60s key party for the next few years, but I also know the boys are worth it and I love them ... even though they drive me freaking insane.