Crazy Boys

I think this blog might become my personal little space where I can curl up in the fetal position and contemplate what being the mother of boys is really all about. Having three girls did not prepare me for these little...beings. I want to say creatures, but that wouldn't be the Christian homeschooling thing to do.

I once saw a shirt that said "I'm a mom, what's your super power?" Being a mom is an incredibly wonderful thing, but being a mom of boys, now that puts the capital M in mom! Not that I think I've achieved that M, but I'm trying. I'm amazed at the shenanigans they come up with! They think, eat, drink and crave water, mud, sand....DESTRUCTION! If you can build it they can break it. If you can clean it they can destroy it. They are like messy little locusts that can clear out a fridge in no time flat only they do leave evidence behind. The carcasses of bananas and string cheese packages give them away every time.

Talking to women who have parented boys is interesting. You don't get the same encouraging words as you do with girls. When I ask for advice they all get a faraway look on their faces. Their voices sound distant. Their heads twitch just a little as they remember the days on the battle field. Then they smile at me and shake their heads and start telling me stories of their frightening experiences with their sons instead of the anecdotes I seek. They tell me of "lots" of boys who seemed completely insane as little tykes but grew up to be wonderful responsible manly men of God. Then they sigh because they can only explain the positive outcome on the power of prayer; they too spent hours in the fetal position thinking today might be a nice day for Jesus to come back.

Normally I try to leave a little insight at the end of my posts, but this time I'm just sitting here in awe of boys. Who can know the minds of boys?! A friend encouraged me today by saying Mary, the mother of Jesus, is compassionate towards us because she too had a son she didn't understand:) (Of course her son never tried to shave the cat, but whose complaining:) )