Hands out of your pants, please

As a mother of two kids….particularly boys, there are things I never imagined would come out of my mouth. Furthermore, on a very regular basis and in a manner as if I was saying, ‘Time for dinner.”

For example, “hands out of your pants, please” has become a recent staple reminder for my two-year old.

That’s right. Two years old. Hands out of your pants. 

Some close seconds?

“Come in here and clean the toilet seat. No one wants to sit on your pee.” 

“God can see everything you do…. and yes, he will give you privacy when you go poops.’’ 

“Please don’t eat your boogers. That’s gross.” 

“No more shoving/pushing/tripping/throwing balls at/farting on/coloring on/taking that away from/pouring water on…… your brother (use interchangeably)  

“You can’t drink that milk. That was from yesterday.” 

I was thinking about this the other day and how some of our parental reminders and mannerisms become such second nature to us while we experience it. Yet, six years ago, I would have had no idea what I was getting into. Before I had children,  I would observe other moms and dads ahead of me juggling the pure chaos of parenthood. Yet…. so nonchalantly, and I wondered how they did it. It wasnt until recently that I came to the realization, that as parents, we don’t know how we do it. We just do it.   

I was at my sister’s house the other day and they just welcomed their second little girl. Isla Anne and big sister Ellie Ava. 

In their house, my poor brother-in-law is screwed. And if my sister’s daughters are anything like she was growing up, she is screwed, too. In my house, I don’t know if I would say I am screwed, but I have had to succumb to the fact that boys are gross. Just plain gross. 

Boys and girls are just different.

While I am used to boys, it was funny to see my sister and brother-in-law come that realization the other day. I looked over at one point to see pure horror on their sleep-deprived faces as they watched my boys dismantle every speck of organization within her pastel colored toy boxes. They had no concept of ‘inside voice’ and Ellie’s princess castle and playhouses were being used as weapons, army guys, or food. I spent about an hour redirecting my two-year old every time he came close to ramming baby Isla with the grocery cart or shielding the furniture corners while he spun in circles until he fell over. For fun.  

While my sister was nearing a panic attack, it was just another Saturday for me.

After we left my sister’s house, I thought about how funny it was that we all adapt to this groove we call parenthood. And how we become immune to our normalcy. For me, my current normal is pee on the toilet seat, the wonderful smell of hockey, restraining from screaming four-letter words after stepping on legoes, and reminders such as ‘hands out of your pants’. However, I give my sister a few years and they will be speaking a foreign language of make-up, friendship bracelets, french braids, and dance recitals.

What’s your normal?

For fun, I captured a little glimpse of our normal these days…..

“I need the underwear from your head.” 



“Laundry basket off your brother, please.”



“Stop running, please.”



“Back up or your eyes will fall out.”



“What happened to my phone?”



No more sugar. Ever.”



“Please don’t lick the window.”



“What happened to (insert name) shoes?”

shoes go





“Hands out of your pants, please.”


4 thoughts on “Hands out of your pants, please

  1. So funny Shannon! It’s all so true. I know nothing about boys but will be crying with your sister when these girls hit their teenage years! Love your blog 🙂

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