Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Being a boy mom

As a little girl, I grew up with dreams of daughters and pigtails and dress up, and all things pink. I didn't particularly care the gender of our first child, but I guess I pictured myself with all girls, so that's what I thought I'd have. And then I had a boy. And my world was turned upside down forever.
And you know what? Being a boy mom is pretty darn awesome.
(I'm going to make some generalizations about boys here and I realize they aren't all like this. But, in my experience, with both my own and my friends' boys, it's been the same).
And before I talk about what it's like to have boys, I have to give a special shout out to my mamas with more than one boy. Instead of doubling the noise, like you'd assume. It quadruples. Brothers are very different from just one boy. There is constant wrestling and noises, and jumping and flying and racing and throwing and shouting. Because boys can be just like that. And somehow, when together, they multiply exponentially.
But, boy oh boy, do I LOVE having boys. There is something so very sweet about a little boy who sits on his mama's lap and needs to be cuddled after a stubbed toe. Or the little boy who wants you to "rock-a-bye-baby" at night because he's too scared to sleep.
And I believe my boys have kept me more energetic and youthful over the years. My girls are content to sit and play quietly, coloring or playing dress up. While the boys want me to play the "chase game", shoot hoops or time them in races around the house. Don't get me wrong, girls can be equally as athletic, but in general, most boys I know, have this innate desire to NEVER STOP MOVING.
Being a boy mom means letting go of the dirty fingerprint marks, the bikes strewn across the driveway, the sand sitting in the bottom of the bathtub, the horrendous smell of socks in the laundry hamper, the constant nagging to "change your clothes" because they'd be happy to wear the same clothes 34729643729 days in a row. Not kidding.
It's the being okay with super hero costumes year-round, the basketball t-shirt and shorts 365 days a year and the almost constant living in fear of broken bones. Or furniture. One or the other.
I never realized how much I would adore my boys. They taught me how to be a mom and prepared me to open up my heart, much bigger than I anticipated.
So, for now, I'll happily pick up sweaty socks, race up to school to meet the paramedics for the second time in 2 weeks (true story) and stub my feet on the 15,000 lego pieces strewn across the floor. Because little boys are pretty amazing. And raising them to be strong, caring and loving men, husbands and fathers is one of my greatest goals in life. 

Soon I'll share the differences between boys and girls. Believe me, it's crazy!

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