For the most part I love living in the House of Trouser.
The cuddles and the giggles make the wee around the toilet and the willy-fiddling all worthwhile.
As the boys get older though, I am becoming more aware of my freak-like status in the family.
My morning shower is never uninterrupted. One child or another comes in to ask a question, then is stunned into silence by my hideous, alien form.
Their eyes hover up, then down and then away. They never meet my eyes.
I can see them trying to process the difference.
Mum does not have a penis.
So, what do I have?
While playing our new favourite card game, Sleeping Queens, I, um, “rearranged” my pyjama bottoms.
I was instantly reprimanded by Cheeky Monkey.
“Do you mind not playing with your balls? It’s disturbing”*
No, my son, you thinking I have balls is disturbing.
I confirmed to him I had no balls (physically, anyway).
“What? Not even inside?” He was aghast.
The Saint muttered under his breath, ”She has mine”.
CM was still staring at me.
He then got his balls out, as if to check they were still there.
“Look mum”, he said pointing, “My balls look a bit like a brain”
*Note to self, revisit the sex education book.
Are you outnumbered in your household? How do you feel?