When did it begin?

I can't remember the exact moment... maybe it happened when I found myself favoring the color blue instead of pink. Maybe it was when I mistook the interior decorating term, "accessorizing" to mean little green army men and matchbox cars. Or perhaps it was when I found myself uttering the words, "You should get a kleenex instead of wiping it on the wall." But no matter when it happened... it's really not important now... the truth is, I can't imagine my life any other way. I LOVE BEING A MOTHER OF BOYS!

Not long ago, I babysat for a friend who had a son and a daughter. Both children came with their backpacks of treasures to keep them busy, but it was literally 1.5 seconds before the boys disappeared to play some version of kung fu star wars. Most days I rarely feel that we have a shortage of toys, and would rather kids not bring toys to our house, because it's one more thing that I have to keep track of and make sure it returns to its rightful home. But on this particular day, I was grateful for that little pink backpack of wonders, which bore hidden treasure of Polly Pockets, princesses, in essence, all things girly, for lack of a better word. It all felt very familiar... like I had strangely done this sometime before. But it all seemed so very long ago. Before long, we were talking about favorite princesses, and the color of her toenail polish, and about the different and distinct shades of pink and why they were all her favorite. I think we even spent time discussing her best friend's favorite color, which was no doubt, some shade of pink or purple. Honestly, I think I blacked out for part of the conversation, or rather pinked out. My head was spinning, and I found myself at a loss for words in the company of this innocent little 4 year-old girl.

What had happened to me? I expected that this "play date" would have filled a void for me. That it would quench the desire for things I thought I missed out on by having only boys. But to my surprise, I suddenly became very aware that I had surrounded myself with "men" who had very little to say, and I, likewise, had become comfortable with doing the same. My husband of, at the time, 8 years, spoke only when he had something truly worth mentioning, which on normal days was something that annoyed me. But on this particular day, I found myself longing for the silence.

This epiphany was welcomed, because I knew I had been trained or maybe even been created to be the mother of boys... my boys! Sure, I feel a knot in my stomach when I think of them branching out on their own, eventually in search of another woman to take care of their needs. Yes, I still cringe at the thought of them not needing me anymore... but, as I continue on day to day, I try to listen to the sounds that fill our home, and it's soothing to me to hear teasing and joking, rather then non-stop chatter; and jumping and wrestling, rather then twirling and spinning.

And when those tender, heart-felt moments occur, they are much more memorable because it doesn't happen every day. In fact, I cherish... and often search for... those precious rarities in our life. Thankfully, I have found some. Contrary to what the song says, I truly "thank heaven for little *boys*"... the boys in my life give me purpose, and for that I am truly grateful!


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