I recently read “Just Let Me Lie Down” by Kristin van Ogtrop.  Sure, it is a dictionary for working mothers, but hey, I like to laugh and she was pretty funny.  I was hooked at her definition of accounting error, which means you have one more child than you can actually handle.

Now that JD is a toddler, I am beginning to glimpse into my future of having three boys who can walk and talk and eat.

The other day Linus climbed into the toddler swing hanging from the apple tree.  It was pretty funny, because he really is too big for it.  What was even funnier was watching JD stagger over, point his finger at Linus, and begin to scold him for taking his swing.  Then his darling little face crumpled, he collapsed, and wept as if Linus had snatched a lolly from his sticky grip.

Ruh roh!

While JD’s temperament is mostly sweet, he has his moments.  The random biting.  The pretending he does not understand the word “no.”  The fact that he knows what he should not be doing, because he jumps a foot when caught and you say his name.  The mornings where he just cries for no discernible reason.

I can already see the relationships between all three of them.  JD has spent more time with Linus, so he goes to him first.  Although if Tater has a snack, he will beg from him too (and make lots of noise if that slice of cheese is not shared).  Any attention from Tater is supremely special.  Linus seems to have caught on that he has the god-like power over JD that Tater has over him.

JD has also grown quite possessive of me.  I imagine this could have something to do with his new ability to walk.  The sweet freedom of mobility paired with the terror of “where did Mommy go?”  If he spots one of the other boys getting special attention, he has to intervene.  I am the baby.  I got dibs on her!  So far he has been happy enough to just bite their clothes and pull, but the day he sinks into skin, I have a bad feeling it is going to be ON.

While JD’s communication skills still mostly consist of “mama” and “ooh!”, he still gets his point across.  He has discovered the power of pointing and pantomime.  Trying to climb into his high chair and crying?  Why, I think that boy might be hungry!  When he starts hanging on my leg after disappearing for a while?  Chances are good if you breathe deeply, you will figure out that he wishes to have his diaper changed.  That is, if the cartoonish stink lines wafting from his tush area don’t clue you in.

I keep telling myself that it will get better.  I mean, the diaper phase won’t last forever.  They eventually learn to put on their own shoes and coats.  Then some charitable soul will comment “just wait until all three are playing ball!” and I end up chewing my nails down to the quick and imagining all three of them ganging up on me with boy stuff while their father is at work.  I have already told him that the birds and the bees?  He better get ready.

Now that I know what my sweet little baby is going to turn into, I am afraid.  How much longer before JD is giggling over the word “butt” and making it talk, a la Ace Ventura (which my kids have never seen, for obvious reasons) that is somehow instinctive in small boys?

And the bathroom.  Oh, my poor bathroom.  Girls may be in there forever, but the worst they seem to do is leave hair in the bathtub drain.  Boys?  Oh my goodness.  I was brushing my teeth when Linus came in to use the facilities.  I nearly had a stroke.

“Make bubbles!!!  Point it down!!!!!”  It doesn’t matter how many times I make him clean up around the toilet.  That boy has a loose cannon in his pants.  And don’t get me started on the skidmarks.  I swear, both of them have been laying some rubber in their undies, which baffles me considering the amount of toilet paper we go through.  And I have one more to add to the fray in a year and half?  Ooh, I just shuddered.

My fantasy?  An outhouse for them all.  Stocked with the cheapest toilet paper available and a dirt floor, of course.  A mute button.  Tranquilizer darts for nap time.

But I’ll push on.  That is what mothers do.  Especially the ones who are bad at math.