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A couple of weeks ago, my two oldest sons had the opportunity to play football at PacBell park, during halftime of an UFL (http://www.ufl-football.com/) game. Like most games, I had the opportunity to hang out with the daughters of one of the coaches. It allows me to experience what life would be like with a daughter (albeit for only a couple of hours).
As we tailgated, the boys were busy throwing the football and running amuck. Us girls were standing around impatiently waiting to enter the stadium, when my faux daughter suddenly had to use the restroom. I was faced with a parenting conundrum I had yet to experience. Parking lots are not usually equipped with restrooms. In this case, the only choice was a port-a-potty (port-a-potty’s freak me out. I would rather get punched repeatedly in the stomach then be forced to enter one. Actually “using” one would be absolutely out of the question). This is never an issue with my boys. Boys can find a tree, bush (on occasion the side of one’s car) and relive their bladder quickly and effectively. In mere seconds, the crisis is averted and we can move on to non-potty related activities. In this case, I could not send the little girl to a nearby bush. Panicked (yes, panicked. This whole situation was new to me and I had no idea what to do), I sent her to her dad. Surely he had a magic solution that this boy mom had not thought of. That was not the case, he simply pointed to the port-a-potty across the parking lot.
I armed the little girl with everything I could think of.
Baby Wipes: They can clean almost anything
Hand Sanitizer: Self Explanatory
A little Prayer: Considering that my phobia would not allow me to get too close to the port-a-potty, she was going to need all the extra help she could get.
She did the impossible, and survived the port-a-potty (with virtually no help from me). Thank GOD I have little boys. I am positive the stress of the potty alone would do me in.
Note to dads: Using a port-a-potty is cruel and unusual punishment. It is NEVER okay for the penis-challenged!
Look what I found: www.go-girl.com
{The following is an excerpt from my book Surviving 3 Boys. It is a guide to parenting boys, with blog excerpts to keep it fun. Let me know what you think. Your opinion is important to me. Please feel free to Tweet, Facebook, or email this article. The more input the better.}
When I was pregnant with my first child, I could not wait to find out what I was having.
There are several urban legends circulating on the internet that promise to determine the sex of your child before the standard 20 week ultrasound. Some are easy enough, like the Chinese Gender Calendar. It only requires you know the age of the mother at the time of conception, and what month the magic happened. There are others that require a chemistry degree, and an adventurous spirit. Ala the Crystal Draino test. This test involves mixing the mothers urine with Crystal Draino, and observing the concoction until it changes colors (from what I have read, the end result is a smelly, disgusting mess, with inconclusive results). I absolutely do not recommend any test that requires bathroom chemicals, but do recommend you read other peoples accounts of using this method. It is hilarious.
I consulted the Chinese Gender calendar, magic 8 ball, and listened to the random women on the streets who gave their predictions based on the shape of my belly (round and high suggests a boys, and as one women delicately put it, “your fat all over, your having a girl”. She didn’t know I was fat all over before I got pregnant).
I counted down the days to the ultrasound appointment. By the time of the actual appointment we had a full house. My OBGYN was gracious enough to accommodate the crowd, who included my husband, mom, mother in law, and I. We all gazed at the tiny screen, and had the same reaction as the doctor pointed to what was undeniably a penis. “It’s a Boy!” we cheered. My husband, who for the most part is always cool, calm, and collected, raised both of his arms in the air like a ref signaling a touchdown. Both of the new grandparents wiped away tears, and in that moment I knew how lucky my little boy ways.
You confirmed it’s a boy, so now what? Shopping of course! At 20 weeks you’re in your second trimester and still have the energy to do things, like walk (walking during your third trimester takes a bit more effort). Now is the perfect time to shop for your registry. The registry wand possesses powers that can turn any practical mom, into a shopping maniac. Nice to haves, becomes HAVE to haves, and pretty soon your registry is littered with things you’ll never use. I heard a very pregnant woman tell her husband at a department store, “It doesn’t matter what we register for, we are getting it for free”! On the contrary, bad registry items are purchased at the expense of something you would have actually used. Free is also an overstatement. People are only buying you gifts because they know from now on, all your money will be consumed by the little person free-loading in your belly (pity-presents).
Wanting more? Be sure to purchase my book. Coming soon to a store near you.
1. If you come across tiny underwear and are unsure rather or not their clean or dirty, DO NOT SMELL THEM to find out. Just assume they are dirty, put them in the laundry, and sanitize your hands immediately.
2. Farts are funny. Little boys will fart anywhere (including on you), in front of anyone (including your priest), and laugh about it hysterically. This condition lasts well into adulthood, and is contagious (I’m laughing now just thinking about farts: absolutely infected with inappropriate laughter)
3. Boys never stop moving, and their idle hands are the devils workshop. When not entertained, they pass their time by climbing, jumping, running, exploring, and throwing at Tasmanian Devil speed. They need things to do; your sanity (and quite possibly your home) depends on it.
4. Remote control obsession begins at birth (or 
close to it). I’m out numbered in my house, 4 to 1. If you are in a similar situation, just give in to Sunday football. It’s a war you will not win.
5. Never ask a (male) stranger for advice when purchasing an athletic cup. There is gesturing and pointing involved, that under any other circumstances would be considered inappropriate (it’s embarrassing all the same).
6. HotWheels are a safety hazard that only effects adults. Stepping on a HotWheel will undoubtedly leave you hopping around in pain (they are the male equivalent to Barbie shoes). Keep an eye out for them, there sneaky and show up unexpectedly.
7. Little boys are always hungry. ALWAYS! It doesn’t matter if they have eaten 5 minutes or 5 hours ago, they’re hungry. Keep snacks everywhere, you’ll never know when you need them.
8. Organized sports (Little League, Pop Warner, Soccer) will take over your life. Your weekends, and evenings will be dominated by cleats and coaches. Understanding and accepting this early with make the experience more enjoyable in the long run. You are now a mommy, and Super Fan (entertain yourself by figuring out ways to embarrass your husband and kids. It works wonderfully for me).
9. The penis obsession starts as soon as they find it (usually at a couple of months old), and if my husband is any indication…..it never ends.
10. They may be crazy, rough, and rude; but nobody loves mom like a little boy!
