Introduction
Get ready to laugh, cry, and feel completely seen in Mothers of Boys Survival Guide—the must-have book for any mom raising boys. Packed with real-life stories like “Mudders Day,” this heartwarming and hilarious collection offers wisdom, humor, and the comforting reminder that you’re not alone. Whether you’re deep in the chaos or looking back with love, this book is the perfect gift for yourself—or any mom in the trenches.
Grab your copy today and join the sisterhood of boy moms who truly get it!
Mother’s Day in Real Life
Mother’s Day is good in theory but stressful in practice. It should really be called “It’s Your Turn, Fathers!” After decades of Mother’s Day, I suggest setting your expectations low, have your humor ready, and write it down so it can be a continued source of entertainment. Here’s one of my funniest Mother’s Days.
I awaken to notice that Hon is up. I peek at the clock: 7:30 a.m. Maybe no one will notice I’m not around. I close my eyes. My nose wakes me this time. Coffee. That’s odd. I’m the only coffee drinker in the house. I listen. It’s too quiet. Oh, it’s Mother’s Day. I look at the clock again: 8:50 a.m. I think they’d better wake me up soon, or we won’t make it to church on time. I listen at the top of the stairs. There are great activities below; they’re coming. I run back to bed.
Earnest, almost six, and Exuberance, age four, bound into the room with homemade cards. Earnest’s card says, “Happy Mudders Day! I love you.”
Exuberance’s card says, “I like your heart.” He also points out that he has written “007” on the back. Charlie, his invisible brother, has taught him to write. OK then.
Earnest brings in a present he made in kindergarten. It’s a recipe book. I gather everything together and herd the boys downstairs. Daddy’s feeling left out.
Hon has gone out and bought a variety of sugar and chocolate covered donuts. He also made a valiant attempt to brew coffee. I pour myself a cup. It’s nuclear and takes quite a bit of cream to make it the right color. I begin to page through the recipe book; all the recipes are from mothers in Earnest’s class. I think I don’t remember being asked for a recipe and then came across mine:
My Mom’s Homemade Syrup
Ingredients:
1/2 of a bottle of regular syrup
Sugar
Directions:
1. Pour four gallons of sugar into the bottle of syrup
2. Put it into the microwave
3. Cook in the microwave for thirteen hours
4. Pour over waffles and pancakes
Things are making slightly more sense now. All the recipes were made up by the kindergarteners. Maybe it’s the nuclear coffee I’m drinking. I grab some clothes for the boys and head back upstairs to get ready, singing, “You Make Me Feel So Young,” in the shower.
Upon finishing, I decide I don’t look too bad. I bothered to put in my contacts, have some nice black pants on recently de-linted of white dog hair and pollen, and a funky shirt. I’m ready for church.
Church is relatively uneventful for a change. Earnest decided to go to the nursery, so the odds are, with Hon and me, two adults to one boy. We sneak out early to go to my parent’s house. The plan is to meet them, my brother and his family, for brunch. We’ve already purchased the traditional Mother’s Day rose bush for Mom, so we’re going to drop by their house first.
We’re loading the kids into the car when Earnest tells us his stomach hurts. Hon asks him when the last time he’d gone to the bathroom. I’m suspicious of the popcorn from the night before and the chocolate donuts for breakfast. After a trip back into the church to the bathroom, we decide it’s safe to continue our day.
After paying the toll at the Harbor Tunnel, I notice Earnest is crying in the back seat. “Are you going to throw up?” He nods. Hon pulls over on a minuscule shoulder at the mouth of the tunnel. I hand Earnest Exuberance’s handy vampire cape, which is in the back seat, to get sick in. He does. Hon pulls him out of the car and rushes him to the guardrail.
Exuberance is sobbing. “My cape!”
I try to get out of the car and bang the door into the guardrail. Quite a christening for Hon’s two-week-old car. He yells at me about the door and grabs some towels from the back. My arm is covered in puke from the initial cape incident. Earnest has thrown up on his shirt and pants. I pull off his shirt and wrap a towel around him. He’s feeling better then. We’re off again through the tunnel. No way to turn around; might as well go forward.
Exuberance continues to cry in the back seat. Earnest is looking green. Hon and I are discussing our options. Earnest starts crying again. We pull over.
Exuberance cries on and off. “Why does Earnest get to throw up? I want to throw up too.” Exuberance has just taken jealousy to a new level!
Earnest tries to explain that it burns. “It’s spicy!”
Exuberance wants to get in on the fun and begins to cough and gag until Hon yells at him to stop. During all of this, I remember one of my mom’s tips: “Don’t argue. Distract.”
I look at Earnest and say, “Do you have a loose tooth?” His entire attitude changes briefly when he realizes that he will soon be losing his first tooth although it doesn’t keep him from throwing up a few more times before we reach Mom and Dad’s. It’s twelve forty-five, and we were supposed to be at brunch by twelve thirty. I can just imagine the conversation at the table. Of course, Hon and I forgot to bring our cell phones.
I race Earnest into the house where he throws up again. I put him in one of Pop’s T-shirts, washed my hands, and put him on the couch. Hon’s now at the front door, asking where I am. I run out and jump in the car with Exuberance, and we head off to the restaurant, leaving Earnest and Hon at the house.
We arrived for brunch over thirty minutes late. Exuberance and I wash our hands again before finding the gang. I plop Exuberance at the table, make quick exclamations to my mom, and run off to get him some food at the buffet. After getting myself a plate of food, I return to sit in between Mom and my bro, in front of a bloody Mary. Thank God!
Bro leans over, laughing, and says, “You should have heard her,” with a nod at Mom, which means there was much commentary regarding our tardiness. Mom says she was just worried about us.
Bro decides to take all the kids on an “adventure to see the sharks.” The restaurant has a small fishpond outside, and I think my how the goldfish have grown. Exuberance has his cousin Em, who is the same age, by his hand and explains that they are going to get married. Em beams, and Ry, who’s two years older, tries to explain to an unresponsive audience that cousins can’t marry.
Em and Exuberance ride with me back to Mom and Dad’s house. The conversation is in full force before getting out of the parking lot. Em’s talking about an impending sleepover, and Exuberance explains that he’s not afraid of the dark anymore because Charlie and Patricks are with him. I tell Em that they’re Exuberance’s invisible brothers.
“Oh, sure,” she says. I think she’ll be getting some soon.
We all head home a bit later, and within five minutes of the ride, I’m holding Earnest by the waist while he throws up on the side of the road. Exuberance is not jealous anymore. We toss the car seat in the back, lay Earnest down, and boogie home. It’s about this time that I take a look at myself. My pants are covered in lint and dog hair again, my contacts feel like sandpaper, and I smell like puke. I think I always have some song in my head. They sort of underscore my life, and one of my favorites from West Side Story starts, “I feel pretty … oh, so pretty.”
We finally make it home and everyone crashes for a mandatory nap. Hon and I order pizza, and our neighbors invite us to eat and drink with them on their deck. After a big chocolate and yogurt kiss on my cheek from each boy, it seems this Mudders Day is one for the memory books.
