Raising Boys. Not for the weak of heart.

Do you have boys?
I do. And, I grew up with just a sister, so I had no previous experience with raising or growing up with boys for a basis of comparison.
The older they get, the more I come to terms with the fact that raising boys is very much not for the weak of heart.
And, if you start out weak, you won't be for long.

First of all, boys are gross and dirty.
Here's some examples:

Boy1 (while sitting on his brother): I'm going to fart on you
Boy2: I'll pee on you.
Boy1: I'll poop on you
Then they chase each other around laughing and pretending to fart on each other, so all you hear is giggling and fart noises (made mostly by their mouths, I hope)

After bath time:
Boy1 (while naked shaking his pee pee): Look! My pee pee!
Boy2: Ew! (runs away while Boy1 chases him)

Boy1: Mom, what's that smell?
Me: *sniffs* I don't smell anything, honey.
Boy1: Is that… fart *giggles*
Me: Did you just fart on me?
Boy1: Yes *giggles and runs away*

Boy1: Mom, what's this on my finger?
Me: I don't know. Where did you get it?
Boy1: It's from my nose
Me: So, it's a booger
Boy1: Here. It's for you *tries to wipe booger on me* or *tries to put booger in my mouth*

Boy: Mom, come here
Me: What?
Boy: I need to show you something! Quick!
Me: *runs upstairs to the bathroom* What's up?
Boy: Look at my poop *points to toilet*
(at least it was in the toilet)

Boy (while sitting watching a movie at the theater): Mom, smell my finger
Me: *sniffs* Ew, what is that? What did you touch?
Boy: I put my finger in my butt. It's my poop.
Me: Stop it and watch the movie (then get out the hand santizer and wipes- gross)

I have tons more stories. These are just examples.
You have to have quick reflexes, patience, and lots of hand santizer and wipes at all times.

Secondly, they are apparently in a hurry to physically harm themselves on a daily basis.
For example:

Me: Stop running.
*children completely ignoring me and laughing and running*
Me: Stop running before you hurt yourself
*children continue to ignore me*
*BAM! someone runs into something and gets hurt*
Me: I told you to stop running. Are you going to stop now?
Boy (while crying): No

Boy: I want to help you cook!
Me: Don't touch the stove. It's hot. You will get a boo boo.
*boy darts hand to touch pan anyway before I can stop him and burns finger*
Me: I told you not to touch it!
Boy (while crying): But I wanted to touch it.

Me (while walking in a parking lot near a busy street): Hold my hand! Safety first!
*boy totally ignores me and darts into traffic*
Me: STOP!!!!!!
*drops everything in my hands to grab him before he gets hit by a car (cuz honestly who gives a crap about anything else I was carrying when my child is in danger)*
Me: Do you see that car? You almost got hit. You would have got a big boo boo and had to go the hospital
Boy: LET ME GO! I WANNA RUN!

I have plenty of examples of this also. Getting hurt is a daily occurrence with 2 boys.
They have scars, bumps, and bruises. It happens.
I used to worry that people would think I was such a crappy mom.
Like they are going to think that I don't even care for my own children.
Then, some older moms with grown children explained that it was unavoidable, really. I mean, you can only do so much. Don't stress it. Do you your best.
Well, that is definitely easier said then done.
However, I did notice that I wasn't the only one. In fact, there are plenty of moms on social networking expressing the same struggles, so I knew I wasn't alone.

Another thing is that they give me mini heart attacks daily.
Like when they decide to clim to the top of the playground and try to jump off.
Or, grab scissors and try to cut towels.
Or, try to take their LeapPad into the tub.

I know some of it is a learning process but gee whiz! You can't look away!
I'm sure I will have more stories later, but I thought this would be a fun starter to how raising children (in my case boys) is not for the weak of heart, by far.