You Know You're a Mother of Boys When...

You have a special bin specifically for swords, guns, lightsabers and axes.

You hear things like "brick!" "wiff!" and "denied!" yelled frequently.

You find Hot Wheels under the comforter or in your boots.

You have to use a Transformer band-aid on yourself for lack of other options.

Each corner of your living room is designated for a different sport.

You get bit by a venomous snake, hooked by a pirate, and mauled by a tiger all in one afternoon.

You find yourself saying things like, "keep your feet off your brother," "your fork is not for blasting off," "point it down," and "don't drive on the baby" on a daily basis.

Somehow a tiger lair, a car dealership and the entire prehistoric age all fit within the confines of your townhome.

You find yourself gawking at all things fluffy, glittery and pastel.