Wordful Wednesday. St. Patty’s Day Boy

5 years ago today #2 was snatched out of my belly. Literally, yanked and pulled and wrenched from my insides, c-section style.

I wore green socks. He cried a lot.

He’s been mildly disgruntled ever since.

And, while #2 is most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my most challenging, intense, and aggressive child, he is also my most affectionate, personable, and downright funny one as well (although #3 is giving him a run for his money in the humor department).

Every day is a surprise with him; sometimes good, sometimes, not so much.

But I can’t imagine life without him.

He’s got middle child syndrome like a mofo which apparently means he’s supposed to be an attention seeking brat with an inferiority complex.

Great! Because he is and I freakin’ love every single one of his screaming-louder-so-they’ll-hear-me-bones (only FYI #2, you don’t really have to scream because I hear you. I’m just ignoring you right along with the rest of ‘em!).

He is unique in every since of the word, from his obsession with couture to his desire to be in the circus, actually to own a circus, in which he is the star.

For years he has been quite interested in the idea of marriage.

I’ve written about it before, because it concerns me.

Not a lot. But enough.

What’s more concerning though, is the fact that as of late he has developed quite an attraction towards the opposite sex.

He says it’s because they (and by they he means all girls and women) are so “attracted” to him. Oh, and because, “grils have nice wong hair”.

Hubby finds his interest in the opposite sex encouraging.

I find it creepy. But as long as he doesn't feel anyone up again, I’m trying not to make such a huge deal of it in hopes that his remarkably-early-girl-crazy phase is replaced by an obsession with something a little more reasonable, like Matchbox cars or action figures (but not WWE. I friggin’ hate that crap. Unless The Rock is making a comeback. Then, I’m down. Seriously, I would watch that man eat Jell-O he’s that hot).

But, in case this is just a sampling of what’s to come when he hits puberty, I’m taking it upon myself to find him a suitable mom-approved mate.

It’s the least I can do.

And from what I hear it works!

The whole arranged marriage thing.

Here’s a little tidbit you may not have known: India has a divorce rate of 1.1% compared to a much, much higher rate in the US. Pretty impressive, right?!

Some argue this fact is directly related to arranged marriages.

While rational Dumb Mom believes other, cultural factors are involved, slightly-irrational-unnaturally-possessive Dumb Mom says that arranged marriage is the wave of the future.

I’m betting that come 2035, when I’m ready for #2 to get hitched, all the cool kids will be doing it again. You know ‘cause trends come back. Especially the good ones. I mean, just look at stirrup pants. Bet you thought those were gone for good, but here they are all happily hooked under your foot and tucked securely into your shoe. Point is they made a come back because they were sorta awesome and the same thing is bound to happen with arranged marriages and I intend to be a pioneer.

Besides, I’m certain all of us will be much happier if I get to pick The Dudes’ wives as it’s really the only way to ensure that I get to maintain creative control of their lives.

Might as well start with the most eager of the bunch.

Name: Keeps it a Secret for the sake of intrigue. You can call him #2

DOB: 3/17/05

Birthplace: Somewhere in Maryland

Address: Casa de Dummies

Interests: grils (aka girls), giraffes, video games, debates (aka arguing with his mother over bedtime, showertime, dinnertime, and the like), fancy socks, dressing like a pimp snazzy, UFC (aka battling with his older brother), dirt, peeing outdoors, the color blue, the letter W, number 26, chicken nuggets, French Fries, shakin’ what his momma gave him, watching contrails, roller coasters, lollipops, leaf collecting, Simon Cowell, carnivals and the carnies that run them, cucumbers, Ben 10, discussing fight sequences, Nacho Libre, Mexican stuff, heroes of the super variety, chocolate milk, Miley Cyrus songs, attention, and anything that smells like cotton candy.

Doesn’t enjoy: long walks, crying babies, venomous snakes, little brothers, scary stories, being blamed for stuff, pizza, being ignored, loud sounds, bad drivers, raw milk (aka white milk), bad guys, waiting in line, just waiting, the color brown, hamburgers, the unknown, schedule changes, people who don’t follow through, people who don’t RSVP, doctor’s offices, sucky goody bags, being framed, shirts for Christmas, barf.

His idea of a good time: running down the street to catch the ice cream man, buying an overly sugary treat he doesn’t eat and jumping in puddles. Bring your rain boots even if it’s not raining, just because.

He’d like everyone to know that his dad loves him so much it makes him sing, they enjoy coloring together and he thinks he’d fight off a wolf for him. His baby screams so loudly he could win a screaming contest. Brother has great ideas and he protects him from bad stuff. And, his mom cries because she loves him so much. That is all.

When he grows up he will be a teacher, and a car fixer, and a fireman, and a farmer, oh, and also a ninja. And, as previously mentioned there will be a circus; he will be the star.

If interested in pursuing a union between your daughter and my son, please send photos and background info to seriously_are_you_effing_kidding_me_you_freak@gmail.com.

I hope he finds the perfect wife one day, but for now I just want him to keep being my slightly-disgruntled-but-a-blessing-all-the-same five year old baby.

Happy birthday, Pickle!