Boys are Strange.

Can we just take a minute and discuss the male race? There is just something about that specific gender that is just so... strange! I'm not even quite sure where to begin with this!
Well lets just say it and get it out there. It was the inspiration for this blog, and is a widely acknowledged fact, that boys are stinky! Not all the time, mercifully. I think the Lord knew Eve would never have done her part to perpetuate the species if there weren't rare and delightful vacations from the various odors given off by Adam's kind. This is my first contention.
Now, Matt blames Iraq, and I know he's partially right- it did get a lot worse after he went to the sandbox and got the plague (or whatever it was), but his- shall we say, "bathroom stench" could evacuate the Empire State Building in two minutes flat. Granted, his digestion is all screwed up, and he personally is not always completely at fault for this. But that doesn't make it any less painful for the rest of us. -Or for him, for that matter, I'm sure. The exceptions to his innocence in all this being, of course, his apparently uncontrollable appetite for hot wings and chicken enchiladas. Pretty picture, I know. I'm sure you get my point. You're probably debating whether you should read on at all, but I'm sorry. I've got to drive it home. I am not lying when I tell you I actually sleep with a can of Oust in the bed. We have one of those oscillating fans and, lucky me, I'm down wind. You get my drift (forgive the pun). And diapers! I know scientists may deny the possibility, but I'm quite sure Jesse and Gabe inherited from their dad whatever beast it is inside him that afflicts us so. Matt is the Devil of Stink and the boys are his little minions. There was a diaper the other day (I won't name names, J-) that caused me to momentarily consider suicide. It seemed like the only way out. And sure enough, when I opened the diaper it was not only pungent, but visually impressive as well. For the sake of those with weak stomachs I won't elaborate.
But boys are more than just stinky. They're just so alien to me in every way. Why is it that they're so freaking attracted to any sort of destruction? And why are they born able to produce verbal sound effects of things blowing up? What is the root of Jesse's need to unwind an entire roll of toilet paper into the commode? What is it that is so irresistible about a freshly shampooed carpet meeting an untimely death with yogurt? Why is the ketchup bottle invisible when it's sought by a man unless it flies out and introduces itself? I may never know the answers to these questions. (If you have any, contact me immediately.)
But after all these quirky features, boys are some of God's most magnificent creatures. You should see the pride on J's face as he carefully carries a paper plate that holds a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he "helped" me make. Or the craftiness he employs to grab cash lying around the house and stash it in the trunk of his car. Or the way Gabriel instantly forgives me after I've ignored his crying for fifteen horrible minutes so I could take a shower. That smile could melt the coldest of hearts. In fact if it weren't for that smile he might have to suffer through the allergy his butt has recently developed for the floor. Despite all the mysteries of masculinity, I am convinced that boys are really something special. And mine are always teaching me things I know I couldn't learn any other way. Matt's taught me patience and compromise. He's helped me see things logically, and not just emotionally- (though I'm admittedly a work in progress). From him I've gained strength and courage, and an appreciation for lots of things I would never have otherwise explored. From Jesse I've developed a sense of adventure and fun. When Gabe came along I immediately realized the value of self discipline and how to run a home efficiently. Most of all though, my boys have taught me love without limits. The more I get to know each of them the more I see how empty and meaningless my life was without them, even if I didn't realize it at the time. Now I have all the blessings a person could ever hope to have. And I have joy. So whenever you're up to your eyebrows in teething, crying children, or when yet another incurable diaper rash rears its ugly head (note the pun), or your husband gets some crazy idea in his head that you can't possibly understand in any way, just stop and think. Would you give this up for anything? Boys are a gift. Live it up.