Three years ago, I started the life long journey of motherhood. My darling daughter entered the world in a very unexpected way stealing a part of my heart in the process. We had 16-months of bonding, just her and I (and her Daddy, of course), before our second child, a son, was born. When I thought my heart could not possibly love another little human as much as I loved the first, I embraced our first born son and rejoiced to God, for this little creature was an answer to so many prayers. To our delight, when our son was 15-months old, we experienced the birth of our three child, another son.
Although a small part of me longs for the days of bonding with just my darling first, now my life is rich and full having the responsibility of caring for two other children... my sons. I was shocked and surprised that God thought I would be a good "boy mom." Just recently, I saw a post for activewear with the logo #BOYMOM. Then it dawned on me....I AM A BOY MOM! I some how never put those terms to my role as a mother or accepted that identity for myself...wow! I am not just a mother, but a mother to not one but TWO boys!
Seriously though, what do I know about being a "boy mom."
My oldest son is a month and a half shy of being two. My youngest son is 7-months. In just this short time, I have experienced more blood, boogers and blenches from these two little human than from my first child. These boys are rough and tough; they like to rumble, be loud, be thrown. They like to be tackled, headlocked and wrestled with. Everything is about kicking and throwing. (Okay, this is mostly describing my almost 2-year old....my 7-month old can hardly sit up by himself). :)
Just the other day, my aggressive second and I were jumping on the trampoline out back. He laughed loader and harder the higher I launched him. At one point he bit either his lip or tongue (I couldn't tell). I, of course, stopped. I pounced over to him, scooped him up into my arms...and he began to laugh, blood lining the outer outline of his lips. He locked eyes with me, wiped the boogers from his nose onto his sleeve and then from his sleeve on to my arm. Then he shouted, "more, more." To my amazement, he got into the bouncing position and was quickly ready for more bouncing fun despite his bloody injury and extremely runny nose.
Today we spend a good hour crashing trucks into each other...seriously, what fun is that? But I obliged and joined in the smashing fun. The light in his eye was astounding. It brought him a joy that I will never understand.
I will not begin to pretend I know what I am doing, raising two sons. They are so different than me. They stretch me, growing me, make me think about the world around me in a different way. They cause me to pause and thank God for the creativity, tenderness and compassion growing in their spirits along with their ability and drive to play hard, laugh enormously, and compete fearlessly. I pray through all the blood and boogers that they will find peace, joy and strength in Jesus. Until then, I will try my best to love them with Jesus' love, embracing who God has created them to be...blood, booger and all.
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