I am one of four daughters. I grew up with sisters and I get girls.
Which is why everything made sense to me when my first child was a girl. I wasn’t overwhelmed or scared. This was my territory. I assumed subsequent children of mine would be girls as well. I was primed and ready for my own Little Women. Just call me Marmee!
But three boys followed
THREE. Not triplets, but still a trifecta of intensity I had no comprehension of.
I am a mom of many boys, and it has taken years for me to wrap my mind around this life I’ve been gifted. I truly think I’ll be adjusting my thought process and expectations forever. It’s just so different. And fun. And hard — so very hard.
I love and adore my little men. I feel as if they chose me and with each of their arrivals I’ve felt called more and more into this boy mom life. Are you a mom of many boys too? Is it how you imagined it would be? Do you too have bruises from their tackles of love? Do you understand the noise level and constant sound effects? Or the fun of play fighting? Also, why are manners so hard to abide by?
Being a boy mom is rough and rogue, complex and simple
On one hand, a hug and fist bump can fix most woes. These little guys are lovers and quick to recover. They hug the best and the hardest and scatter “I love you” like confetti.
Their sense of adventure is inspiring and being with them every day brings me to life. On the other hand, the physicality of all they do and who they are leaves me feeling lost and tired. These boys are just wired differently and thus, I’m constantly learning and adapting.
I’m learning superhero names and Pokémon powers, how cool slugs are, and why gross things are so interesting. I know more about caring for scraped knees than I thought possible and I can wrestle grimy boys into the bath for a scrub down like a professional alligator trainer.
They are full speed from sun up to sundown
They are dynamite ready to explode at a moment’s notice, and with three, I triage and put out fires. I narrowly escape emergencies all day long.
Why is my ponytail sagging and my eyeliner crooked today? Because I literally caught a naked 2-year-old trying to climb and jump off the bathroom counter during my 90-second get-ready routine this morning. This never ever happened with my sisters growing up. The wildest we got was singing Amy Grant while we lined up for my mom to do our hair in the mornings.
It’s all so foreign to me. And honestly, weird. This intense boy-ness that I’m surrounded by.
Don’t even get me started on the infatuation with penises. Too often I find myself saying, “Be gentle!”
To which my husband counters, “If it hurt, they wouldn’t do it.”
Oh. I mean, that makes sense, but still.
It’s all a learning curve
With just one boy, I feel like I could have studied him, learned his ins and outs, and come up with a system of understanding. But I have three individual boys to study and that exponentially increases, based on their various interactions with their sister and with each other, and then, as teams.
Here’s the thing, though: At the moment, they’re all sleeping and look like little angels. My angel boys all calm and peaceful. Inside those quiet, still bodies, I know they’re just gaining energy for a whirlwind tomorrow, and that I should be sleeping too, prepping for the wild to come. But seeing them so still, when they’re usually in motion, it’s just too picturesque. Oh, how I love them.
To the mom of many boys, I hope you feel seen. I hope you know that you and I are the ultimate superheroes. This gig is a never-ending race and we’re in it until the end — learning every step of the way, being a boy mom as best we can. So, rest up, for a fresh adventure with our little men starts tomorrow. Let’s be ready for it!
