If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard . . . “Oh, three boys! You have your hands full!” or “Boys are so busy (messy, loud, etc.),” the unhelpful, “You can borrow my girls,” or my favorite, not favorite at all, “Are you going to try for a girl?” Or here’s one I heard just last week, “Wow! You didn’t want a girl?!”
It’s interesting that a house full of healthy, happy boys can be met with such discontented, almost sympathetic sentiments. It’s as if the perfect family is either some mix of both genders or all girls. I can’t say a thing about what it’s like to have girls, but I can say this: my family has been perfected as one of three boys.
It really is a whole lot of crazy, loud, and messy chaos. Basically, all the time. They have more energy than I do in my wildest dreams, and I am almost always out of my comfort zone.
But those boys have rocked my world with their presence, and I love them with all of my heart.
Before our youngest was born, but after we shared his gender, even I felt somewhat sad that I wouldn’t get to love up on my own girl. And though those feelings were for my own selfish reasons, it was honestly the disappointment of others that weighed heaviest on my mind. He wasn’t just another boy he was going to be my baby, and I was going to raise him, love him, and spoil him all the same. I am a mother of boys, an abundantly grateful mama to boys, and I was made for this!
My house is complete and utter boy-topia! And I’m learning every day to embrace it. I hold my breath and bite my tongue with nearly every furniture jump or ball throw. I routinely clean pee off every uncovered surface of the bathroom and have asked them several times not to make their food into guns . . . like they legit eat their food into guns.
I have learned to make car sounds like they do, to draw tractors, and build LEGO forts. I now confidently know the difference between a skid steer and a skid loader and have learned that pterodactyl starts with a p. My boys have taught me many, many things. Many of which I’ll never practically need to reference outside the four walls of my home, but now I know.
They also fill my cup.
They love looking at “mommy’s pretties,” combing their hands through my wet hair and calling me Anna (as in Anna from Frozen; it’s the highest compliment). They tell me I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. They have also cried big tears when I’ve told them they can’t marry me. They have cries that are reserved just for my comfort, and it’s always my hug and kiss they want right before bed. They are brother besties, and I am their queen.
My boys are the noise that quiet the rest of the world. They are my favorite distraction and my favorite reason to just be. They have taught me more about unconditional love than I could’ve ever imagined. I feel so grateful to be trusted to raise them and am humbled to know I have so much more to learn on this parenting journey, particularly in a foreign world of construction equipment, dinosaurs, and superheroes.
They say perfection lies in the eye of the beholder, and if that is the case, then this brother boy trio is perfection at its finest. If my heart aches for anything, it’s only in how I stay relevant in their lives, not for something that could’ve been. I’m a boy mom and I love them with all of my heart.