Yeah, me too.
Four of them.
Our oldest son and then three young boys.
And I can’t believe no one told me how wonderful being a mom of boys could be.
Not that I don’t love my girls—you already know how dear they are to me—but boys? They’re some of the best.
Like the best.
And if you ever spent much time around them….you would certainly understand why.
So I began a list of a few things that I love about having boys.
At first it was going to be “10 Things That I Love,” but then I had such a hard time limiting it to “10” that I upped it to 15.
So really, this is only a starter list. Because I’m sure you’ll have a thing or two to add to what I’ve got here. But this is what I came up with . . . .
1. I love their fiery spirits.
I love how they’re ready to right all wrongs and jump into danger. How they grab their swords and fight to the death. (Okay, not literally, but you know what I mean?)
2. I love their tender hearts.
Just when you think he’s the toughest, roughest, sort of kid, he surprises you with the softest word or kindest touch. Melts my heart. Every time.
3. I love how they smell like dirt.
You didn’t think I’d say that did you. Or at least that I’d mean it. But I did. And I do. I love that musty smell they have—a bit like the dog’s toy that got left outside for a couple of days. Like bugs and grass. Earthy. And sometimes just downright muddy.
4. I love their mischievous impulses.
Like when they hide under the blankets of my bed and wait patiently for me to crawl in…and hear me scream! (pretending I didn’t see those wiggly, giggling bumps under the cover?) I love their silly jokes and goofy pranks. Well, at least most of the time. Placing the explosive Snapdragons under the toilet seat was bit much. Grrrr….!
5. I love how they wrestle, tussle, and attack.
Keeps me young. And limber and strong. I probably would have given up wrestling years ago…if I didn’t have to fight off a bunch of bandits who can often appear suddenly out of nowhere.
6. I love their protective instinct.
In spite of all that, these young lads can be quite chivalrous. They can’t bear to see me dragging a heavy load out to the trash. Or to get hurt. Or cry. I try to tell them that “I’m stronger than I look,” but they don’t seem to quite believe me. They want to save me from all harm. And that’s okay with me.
7. I love how they can make me laugh.
And, oh, how they can get me going! And once they get started? There’s no stopping them. Sometimes laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. Especially that youngest one (far right). The ham.
8. I love their constant motion.
Oh my goodness. Never walking. Always running. And do your boys ever sit still?? Because mine certainly don’t. They wriggle and squirm and twitch until I…send them outside. GO PLAY! Whew.
9. I love how loud they are.
I never thought I’d say this. But here I am. I’ve actually grown fond of the way they slam the doors, shout to each other in the same room, and sing full volume while washing the dishes. I mean, who needs a quiet house? (Okay, I do. And that’s when I send them back outside!)
10. I love how hard they work.
It makes me smile to see them to do their best to keep up with their dad. Whether feeding the animals, tilling the garden, or mowing the lawn—they’ll give it all they’ve got. (Not that they don’t need a little push now and then….)
11. I love all the funny noises they make.
The grunts. The burps. The motor noises. And, well, those other somewhat indescribable and rather embarrassing noises too…..
12. I love their sweet snuggles.
Does it get much better than this? Even their older sister (who is away at college) called to say how much she misses snuggling with her brothers. Dusty, sticky, and stained—I’ll take cuddles from the boys any way I can!
13. I love how they argue over who gets to make my coffee in the morning.
Somehow their dad has convinced them that this is one of the highest honors a man can have. I know. I’m sure I don’t deserve it, but I drink it up all the same. One spoiled mom.
14. I love how they look up to their dad.
Yes, they know he’s not perfect, but he’s their dad. And he’s a good man. And the boys love and respect him.
They also know that they are deeply loved by him.
15. I love how they grow into fine young men.
So to be perfectly honest? I don’t know that I was as patient – or as appreciative – when this young man was a squirmy, muddy, running-hard kind of little boy.
But as each year goes by, I can see more and more clearly the calling God has on his life.
I can see how he would need that high level of energy and that kind of drive to do the things that he was made to do.
In some ways so much has changed. He is no longer a boy, but a young man.
He is still my son, but far more of a friend.
And he still has a mischievous grin and doesn’t mind a little dirt.
And he still has a hug for his mom.
So you can probably see why I love being a mom of boys.
It’s the best.
The very best.
Run strong, son. Run strong.
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