On Raising Boys

A friend of mine just found out she's having a boy, and really, I couldn't be happier for her! It's funny how time and life circumstances change you.  I'm quite certain that if this were before I had my own children, I would have apologized to her and told her how sorry I am she's having a boy.  Now, I'm welcoming her to the grandness that is boy mommyhood with open arms and a great big smile.  Oh, the wonderful things in store for her! I did likewise for a young, excited mom-to-be at a restaurant recently.  Excited about her pregnancy, eager to quiz me about raising boys, I assured her it's a treat.  I even did it without sarcasm!  Yay me!

Fifteen years ago, I argued with the sonogram tech about Noah's penis.  I insisted it was his umbilical cord and she was certainly mistaken.  Nearly hysterical, I told her, "You don't understand.  I'm having a girl.  I can't have a boy.  That's a girl in there!"  "Ma'am," she replied calmly, "That's his penis.  This over here is his umbilical cord.  He's got only one of each, I can assure you."  God wouldn't give me a boy!  He would certainly know better--what in the world would I do with a boy?  Everything in my baby registry was PINK.  All the names we'd chosen were girls' names. None of my life plans included a son; they all included daughters.  A BOY?  Noooooo.  I didn't know a thing about boys, other than they were gross and dirty and smelly.  I was raised in an extended family full of girls.  I had visions of dresses and hair bows and ballet classes.  A BOY?  You've got to be kidding me.  

Sure enough, Noah arrived, in all his glory--a boy--as did his brothers--complete with only one of each, as the tech had promised.

It was a rough start, but here we are, three boys later.  I wouldn't change a thing.  I can't imagine life any other way, and I don't want life any other way.  I've realized now, with 15 years of boys under my belt, the tables have turned and I really wouldn't know what to do with a girl!  God is funny; as badly as I thought I wanted a daughter, when we stopped trying for Ezra, I found myself looking through all the little boys in need of homes on the adoption sites I perused daily.  The girls were beautiful and perfect and just as badly in need of families, but the boys were the ones who stole my heart.  God knows what He's doing.

I love every bit of being a boy mom.  It's an honor, a privilege--and well, let's face it--a daily challenge.  It's certainly never boring!  There's never a dull moment in our home, or even really a calm one.  Going to bed each night, I never know what the next day will bring.  There is constant (com)motion, constant energy--just constant everything.  And it's a good life.  Yes, they are dirty and smelly and gross, but they're also loving and kind and generous.  Boys bring flowers to their mommas, they give the best snuggles, and no matter what, you will always be their first love.

There's also much to look forward to in raising boys; I may not have daughters, but one day I will have daughters in law, and possibly granddaughters, and I will cherish those relationships.  I get to raise gentlemen, teaching them to also cherish those relationships, and how to properly treat their wives and daughters.  I get to watch these boys grow and mature and become who God made them to be.

My boys have changed my views on so much, they've changed my perspectives, and they've grown me.  While I'm raising them, they are busy teaching me.  They've taught me that a sense of humor is a huge part of parenting, and that I really don't know everything after all.

And you know what else?  I get to be queen.  And being the queen is good.