I love to laugh. Love love love to laugh. I like to read funny books. I love to watch stand-up comedy specials. I love going to live comedy shows. Will Farrell movies are my total jam. Kristen Wiig is my spirit animal. And the Weston kids reduce me to tears of laughter on a regular basis. It’s no wonder that one of my top two favorite things about parenting is the hilarious things that my kids say and do.
I have three little nuggets to call my own. Jordan, age 9.9, Jaxon, who turned 5 yesterday, and Shia, who is a fresh 3. This really-little littles stage is such a treasure, because as they are learning to navigate life they ask lots of silly questions. Do squirrels poop? What do we wear when we are in Heaven? Can’t you just look up a picture of God on youtube? What exactly are boobs for? When will I get my boobs? (my 3 year old son) What happened to your butt!??? ( Apparently I can’t change a tampon without an audience.)
Sometimes the humor is not in questions but in statements. Mom, if you were driving a car and I was driving a car, I’d roll down my window and jump through it so that we can be together. Hey, she has a black face like me! (yelled at a stranger in Target) Hey, those are for your butt! (Also yelled at a stranger in Target, who was looking at Tampons.) The funniest thing that has ever been said was by my youngest at age 2. I had the good fortune to make a gynecology exam on a day that overlapped with my husband’s dental appointment. He is terrible at going to the dentist, and I didn’t want to give him an excuse to cancel, so I took the troops with me. I figured I could ban them behind the curtain as the exam was done. As I closed the door to the exam room to disrobe, the labeled genitalia poster glared at my children. My son, who was 4 at the time, loudly wondered What is that???? as he pointed to the spread eagle vagina at eye-level. The baby toddled over, pointed up at the vagina and replied The goose says ahhhhhhhhh! Jordan, Jaxon and I burst into tears of laughter, which continued from both sides of the curtain during the exam.
On nights like tonight, I find humor in the frustration. Shia is struggling with sleeping in her big girl bed. After an extensive bedtime routine, she tried everything she could think of to keep me in her room. I’m so hot. I need the covers and I can’t do it myself. I’m so sick. I’m really sick mommy and I need the water in your room. I need to poop because it has to be downstairs. She uses the word because to start half of her sentences. I love it. I love how she mispronounces sandals as sankals, butt cheeks as boot chicks, sanitizer as hanitizer. When I finally left the room after pillow talk, 4,500 kisses, two prayers and three songs she yelled out Because that was a fake kiss mommy! It helps me to giggle as I leave the room feeling guilty that she is momentarily unhappy. (more on that in a later post…)
And sometimes it’s just their actions that reduce me to a pile of happy tears. When Jordan was two we were staying in a hotel room with Gramma, Aunt Missy, and cousins Kennedy and Jack. It was late, and we were laying in the dark, attempting to quiet the littles so that we could go to sleep. To be honest, we were trying to quiet Jack and Jordan, as Kennedy has always been the good child to fall asleep early. We finally got the twins (Jack and Jordan, cousins who were born five days apart) settled and it seemed as if we were going to get some rest, when Jordan ripped a huge fart. Both the fart itself and her comedic timing were perfect, waiting exactly one beat before asking “Did you hear that?” in the tone of Steve Urkel. I cried tears of laughter that night too.
Going down in history is the poop/basketball debacle of 2016. Jaxon was two, potty-training and completely obsessed with basketball. He was sitting in the bathtub with his little sister as I folded a load of laundry at the door. Suddenly he stood and proclaimed, “I’m pooping!”, his face frantic. I immediately stood and rushed the tub in order to fling him onto the toilet in the knick of time. The following seconds were in slow-motion. Not kidding- I literally felt time drag out so that I could see and experience the play-by-play as it unraveled. The poop beat me to the tub. As soon as the log plopped into the water Jaxon reached in horror to scoop it up and flung. it. into. the. air! I was running right towards the poop-launch, followed by Jordan, who apparently just wanted in on the action. We screamed, ducked and turned to escape the poop-rocket by throwing ourselves to the ground. Jaxon was sobbing in embarrassment. The poop launched up, instead of out, looped around as gracefully as a big turd can, and landed with a splash into the toilet bowl. At once Jaxon’s tears stopped as he proclaimed, “Hey, I made a basket!!” Jordan and I exploded in laughter, crying because we could not recover from the near-death experience of a turd to the face.
These are the moments that not only make my day, but my mothering. They are more than just a funny blog or Facebook post; they are the moments that make us as a family. Stories we tell to them, and retell with one another. Stories that they take as their own. Stories that will continue to bring me joy, even in the years when our home echoes with the emptiness of their departures into the world, and they begin to gather humor with their own little nuggets.