Y’all (for northerners=y’all is a contraction of you + all), I honestly never asked to have a son, not even one. From early childhood, I imagined myself having multiple daughters (10 or so), and getting to play dress up, paint finger nails, fix hair, go shopping together, have tea parties, stay up for late night talks about boys. I seriously never entertained the idea that I would have a boy. I knew nothing of sports or GI Joes, fishing or funky smells. Therefore, I knew I would have a daughter, several daughters.
Until the day I went to my doctor, and she said, “it’s a boy!” (like this was something to celebrate??), I literally had no notion of being a boy mom. I prayed the entire pregnancy for the gender of the baby to somehow be a mistake; I mean it’s happened before, right? When the day came, and I finally gave birth, I asked the doctor….”still a boy?” (Hey, God performs miracles everyday.) But alas, it wasn’t meant to be. I had a son. And 17 months later, I had another son. 5 years later, yet, another …..you guessed it….son. During each of these pregnancies I prayed desperately for a girl! Why in the world did God want me to have alllllll boys?? [For clarity: I have a husband, 3 boys, and 2 male dogs. There is NO estrogen in this household other than my own.] I knew God was all knowing, omniscient, but geez, like all three had to be boys??
I slowly learned bits and pieces about different sports, how to BAIT. A. HOOK. (there are NO WORDS…ew!), how to hunt, how to not get peed on(!!) while changing a diaper, how to throw a football, how to be okay with dirt….everywhere….all the time. I honestly never thought I would see someone sky dive off the top of the refrigerator (sober), until I had sons. (Just wait.) People ask me how I do it…..I don’t watch! If you watch, you will succumb to the inclination that you can stop them. You can’t. Just give up that thought now. They will climb trees, possibly-and most likely- naked; they will ride their bikes with no hands down a steep hill; they will skin every single part of their body-and you will have to kiss it and bandage it without puking; they will bring.you.bugs…….and you have to be happy about it; they will pee everywhere BUT the hole in the toilet. Seriously, let’s discuss urinating. There’s a hole in the toilet, that boys and girls both use to urinate in. It’s where it goes. The urine goes INTO the hole…..not on the seat, not on the floor, not on the wall, and if you are multi-talented like my middle son–not on the ceiling! I don’t even care if the seat is up or down, just make the pee go into the toilet, for crying out loud!
Through all the blood, sweat, and urine, I still love my sons. Unconditionally. All 3 are a handful individually and even more so together. But, they are mine. They love me when I’m at my weakest. They love me in spite of my faults. They make me laugh and cry and scream, all in one day. God blessed me with sons. He also blessed me with a daughter, and them with a sister, who is in Heaven. For now, I have sons. I play football and baseball; I go hunting and fishing; I ride four wheelers and buy skateboards and trucks and balls. I’ve successfully taught them to bake, clean, do laundry, and *hopefully* be a gentleman for their future wives. My husband has been a great help to me. (Did I mention I knew nothing about raising boys??) He reminds me to not look, so I don’t have a heart attack. He takes them to our old house to learn to drive(again, for my sanity). He doesn’t mention blood loss amounts when they’ve been hurt. He tries his best to shield me from most of the *ew*ness of it all. I thought having boys was going to turn me into someone I’m not. When in fact, it has only produced the me I’ve always been, just a little more rough around the edges.These boys will spend all day taking care of their mom, although I would never let them. I don’t think daughters would be quite as attentive and protective. Yes, I’m a “boy’s mom.” It wasn’t what I planned or even wanted, but it’s what I needed. God knew me, even before I did. So, the picture above is of me. I realized today, I am a boy mom. I have the comfy, oversized shirt, jeans, and slip on shoes to prove it. (Literally, that’s all my closet consists of). So for all you parents to be out there, prepare yourselves. Boy moms are not for the faint of heart. But ooooohhhh, we are strong, powerful, and loved.