I never knew how much I’d love being a boy-mom. I grew up with two sisters and we did our best to convince our brother to wear tu-tus and let us push him around in a baby-doll stroller while we sang “Rock-a-Bye Baby”.

In my opinion, the most iconic childhood photo of Alex is one where he is wearing a pink dance costume with a Cleveland Browns helmet on his head while holding a microphone. Needless to say, he is so kind, he’s maybe more gentle and considerate than some, and he has a very good sense of humor. He also wifed-up a blonde bombshell, so I often say, “You’re welcome, Al”. And to his wife… someday she’ll understand what a service we did for her when she (hopefully) gets to have her own boy.

Dance recitals, homemade spa nights, and Barbie dolls were the norm in may childhood home. My brother hardly broke the mold because his little brainiac mind most enjoyed computer or video games or reading history books. Consequently, I never saw all of the wild-boy shenanigans my future husband and his brothers were up to in their house. So, being a mom to these critters has absolutely been a shock, for me.

I have always had in my mind that I’d get to pass along all of my girly expertise. I baby-sat families with girls (and boys, but of course I connected with the gals, quickly) on my weekends from when I was eleven years old through my college years. The boy stuff was enlightening and fun, yes, but it was always more fun while wearing a frilly dress and plastic heels. I volunteered at our church youth group and mentored middle school aged girls and I found joy in these times.

Now that I know a girl is not in our future and I have grieved this fact (mostly), I am slowly allowing myself to find joy in these tiny male humans and the things they most enjoy.

I think what I love most about being a boy-mom is the raw, unfiltered discovery of everything. When they’re turning over leaves and finding the fuzzy caterpillars while hiking in the woods, I delight with them. On our recent camping trip, I was overjoyed seeing my Gabe slowly pet the caterpillar as softly as a wild, blond-haired blue-eyed boy can. Which is very softly, and very quietly, evidently. What a sight for a momma’s heart. But then I pointed out a worm and he picked it up and pulled the head off of its body. 

My boys are currently very into learning how to play board games. And, games where this is a clear winner are hard for a gal like me who spent her whole life without much of a competitive bone in her body. I’m serious, when there’s a competition of any sort, I just roll-over and play dead. 

When I was young, I’d get overly frustrated with not “being good” at something (right off the bat) and consequently not winning games. So, I’ve practiced not caring about winning and it has transcended throughout my everything. But, teaching my boys the object of the game and good sportsmanship, now there’s something I can do! I love a good strategy and taking on new skill-sets! 

Wild boys are built-in entertainment. I am never bored while I am mom-flexing to catch a glass of milk before it hits the floor and splatters, or when I see their fall before my eyes in slow motion and I run with all my might to catch them before their heads meet the concrete. Easily, I get in my 10,000 steps/day before Noon. Hence my 9:00 p.m. dessert is a sacred ritual and reward after keeping them alive, yet another day.

 But the number one best thing about little, wild boys is that they have this ability to make you swoon over them after they surprisingly, and gently, take you by the hand and lead you to your favorite chair and climb upon your lap before they nuzzle themselves as closely as possible to your chest. Then they ask you, “Do birds poop?” And you realize you’ve never been more in love, ever, than in that moment. It’s euphoric. 

My boys have broken my type-A, to-do-list self and they’ve made me into a more flexible, understanding, and (I’d say, more) fun human. How could I have gone through life without knowing this side of myself? Without them and their messy, outlandish, or carefree selves I would have never known what I could be. 

Every day, I am working on matching their excitement and their open sense of discovery. It’s a wonderful counter to my former strictly-a-planner self! Unruliness compliments perfectionism, I’ve found.

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