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I am a boy mom. I love being a boy mom. There are so many times I feel that special Aha! moment that explains why God chose me to be a boy mom. While I may appear a bit prissy and girly, I assure you, I can belch, fart, and appreciate boy humor with the best of them. And trust me, when it comes to these often inappropriate (yet hilarious) excerpts, my boys are definitely the best.

I always wanted a daughter. I am an only child and share an unbreakable bond with my own mother. She is my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, my truth-telling therapist, and the only person on earth allowed to tell me how it really is.

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Oh sure, she makes me angry. A lot. Yet, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, there is nothing I could ever do or say to change that woman’s love for me. That is a special relationship, one of the very few in the world that will never 
refuse to let go. 

Based on my relationship with my mother, I hoped for a daughter and a relationship that resembled a similar bond.

Yet, after years of trying, I was blessed with a bouncing baby boy. And then, nearly two years later, another bouncing baby boy. My family was complete. I was grateful for the healthy babies I was given, as there are two more beautiful souls in Heaven I never got the chance to hold. 

As much as I love my boys, I often percolate on the phrase, “A son is a son until he takes a wife; a daughter is a daughter for life.” It scares me. My sons are my world! As much as I want them to marry someday and provide me with precious grandchildren to spoil and love, I do fear missing out on the close relationship we enjoy now, to a distant, responsibility-driven relationship with them when they are fully grown with families of their own.


These fears completely dissipated last night when my youngest son asked me to put on a blindfold, took me by the hand, and led me to the kitchen where he had completely rearranged two of my cabinets. The order was meticulous. I could see everything, and it all fit! I nearly suffocated him with the bear hug that followed his great reveal. 

When my older son opens up to me about his anxiety disorder (specifically, OCD), knowing I am the only person in his life who fully understands. Not only do we share the same blood type, but we share this, at times debilitating, mental challenge that infringes on our lives in countless ways. As much as I wish I could fully bear this burden and alleviate his suffering, I now know why I was plagued with the same burden years ago. It was to be my son’s greatest advocate and strongest encourager. Sometimes the ties that bind are born out of challenge, struggle, and a deep necessity for help. There is no one who can provide these things for my son like his mother. 

Each day my relationship with these boys, who I am beyond blessed to call my sons, is a wild, unchartered adventure.

They try my patience. They drive me to the absolute end of my rope . . . and then step purposefully over the line. They drive me to drink. Yet they also love me like no one else on earth. They are protective of me, they show me ALL versions of emotion because I am the one person with whom they feel most comfortable. 

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Someday I will look back on the relationship I presently have with these two young men. I am sure I will feel sad, lost in the nostalgia of their need for their mother, which will likely lessen as they grow older. Yet, I know the bond we share, that we daily nurture, feed, and deepen, will never fade. They may need me less, they may be too distracted by life to daily entertain me as they do now, they may (I choke on a tear as I write this) move far away from me someday. But, at some point, I believe in my heart of hearts that these two boys will always come home.

They will someday care for their old decrepit mother the way I cared for my young and needful little boys. I would never stand in the way of their independent lives and families, but I do believe God placed us together for a purpose. That purpose will never end. It will defy sickness, financial troubles, physical distance, earthly struggles, and even death. 

We need each other. And while those needs can (and should) change over time, the bond between a mother and her sons is just as timeless, precious, and lasting as any other bond on earth. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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Manndi Maphies Wilkins

I am a boy momma of two, who works at a School of Pharmacy and enjoys freelance writing on the side. I enjoy sharing my daily adventures as a (former) single mom with anyone who will read them. Life is full of ups…and downs…and then more ups. The joy is in the journey and if others find my journey humorous, relatable, and inspiring, I will never quit sharing it! So happy to connect with such an inspiring group of writers!

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