Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Why I love being the mom of boys...

Okay, I totally stole this from someone else's blog ( Passionate Homemaking) but I love it, and I wouldn't be able to put it into better words! Being the mom of boys is never boring!





Boys are so sweet. Boys love their Mamas like crazy. Boys think their Daddys are the best. Boys….ah boys. Boys bring such joy.
Whoever said that only little girl clothes are cute…and that you can never find any cute little boy clothes…never saw all the adorable outfits at my blue baby showers.
And I dare say…there’s a little something to be said for being able to run a comb through their hair real quick before dashing out the door. No bows or braids or hair doo-dads to keep track of.
I love how boys play (now that I’m used to it!). Our house is usually noisy, rough and fast…there’s not a lot of tip-toeing or sitting down quietly to color pictures at the table.
Generally…I find that the male greeting (between my boys and all of their friends who come over to play) has little to do with words…and a lot to do with grabbing onto and pulling one another down to the floor into an immediate wrestling match.
I’ve learned to look the other way…smile…and shake my head about so many things that I used to fear would turn into a trip to the Emergency Room. Boys play rough…they can’t help it. They make noise…it oozes out of their pores.
Rolls of wrapping paper become swords or light sabers. Toast and grilled cheese sandwiches are chewed into the shape of little guns. Math books become drums. Little pink erasers become race cars.
Everything (everything) becomes a competition…who can finish their milk first…who can put their jammies on the fastest…who can get from the kitchen to the living room without touching the floor.
It’s one big, loud, ball game at our house all day long…and I wouldn’t trade it for all tea parties in Boston.
I consider it a huge honor to be the mama of boys. Boys who we pray will grow up and be Godly leaders some day. Boys who we pray will be Godly husbands and daddys some day.
Oh…and some day…I’ll have daughters. Some day…four (2 in my case!) of your daughters will grow into godly young ladies who will marry my sons. I’ll take them shopping and we’ll cook and do hair together.
Until then…I’ll just continue to feed mountains of mashed potatoes and huge stacks of pancakes to all these boys while they make all the noises with their armpits that they are so good at making and while they laugh at all the things boys can’t help but think are funny.
They are…boys.
Boys who have completely and totally won my heart.