Call to Boy Mom

I can’t remember the last time I was up before the kids, but today I am. It’s six a.m. I’m showered, wearing my prettiest floral robe, and drinking a hot cup of coffee on the couch (almost forgot what it tasted like at this temperature). My windows are open, the sun's coming up, and the only sound I hear aside from the clicking of the keys as I type is the bird outside the window singing his morning song.

There’s something about mornings like this that put me in a state of reflection. Maybe it’s the crisp air against my cheek or the view of the sun rising up over the hills. Maybe it’s the unfamiliar sound of silence replacing the usual Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song playing in the background. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that I’m having a moment alone to actually hear myself think for once. Whatever it may be, as I sit here gazing out the window, I can’t help but reflect on my life. My purpose. My calling.

You see, it’s not something that I ever thought I’d be called to. And, if I’m being completely honest here, it’s not something that the pre-kid-me would have ever chosen. Don’t get me wrong, I have always dreamed of having and raising a little boy.

A.

As in one.

Uno.

Yes, one little man amongst a house full of bows, glitter, and clothes stealing sharing mini-me's running around singing Taylor Swift while twirling around in their pretty dresses. (Oh, the dresses). That was my dream; everything that I longed for. My hearts desire.

That is, until the day they laid my perfect six pound eleven ounce baby boy in my arms. It was as if my eyes had never truly seen until the day they met his, and in that instant my hopes and dreams completely changed.  I was officially a boy mom.

It’s true what they say about raising boys not being for the faint of heart.

If I had a quarter for every pet snail, worm, or rock that’s lived in our home the past three years we’d be rich. I’ve seen more bloody knees and busted lips than I had in the entire twenty-two years before them combined. Oh, and the sight of my kid pulling down his pants and peeing in the front yard no longer phases me (hey, we’re working on it).

The stereotypes of boys being loud and rowdy and stinky and gross are all true. Before Drew was born I was told on numerous occasions (mostly by strangers) how hard and terrifying raising boys was, and that, too, could not be more spot on. It is hard and it is terrifying, but not because they are loud and rowdy and stinky and gross, because, in reality, they are so, so much more than that. It’s hard because it's a huge responsibility, and is the biggest, most overwhelming task I’ve ever been given. God did not simply bless me with my two sons, He trusted me with them.

The fact that He looked at me and somehow saw me as worthy of raising these little boys up to be future husbands, fathers, friends, workers, and men of their word is beyond me and not something that I take lightly. It's huge. So huge that I often feel like He must have got it wrong. 

...But I know He didn’t.

I love those two little boys with every fiber of my being and wake up each day willing and ready to fulfill my call to boy mom the best that I can. How lucky am I that these little boys, who will one day be big, strong protectors, run into my arms to find comfort when they are scared and ask for my kisses when they are hurt. What an honor it is to have the responsibility of showing them how they deserve to be loved and treated now so that one day they will find a wife that loves and adores them just like their mama always has.

So, for now, I’ll trade my dreams of hair braiding and princesses for pet snails and Avengers. I’ll hold the soft tiny hands that will one day be rough and worn. I’ll watch as they run carefree before the worries of the world set in on their innocent minds. I’ll sleep with them in my arms until they find themselves in anothers. I’ll protect them until the day it’s their duty to protect their own family. And I’ll love them always.

For those of you who have been called to boy mom, I salute and applaud you for raising up these little boys to become men who will one day love those little girls we once dreamed of having (& maybe still hope to have). I'm thankful for this life, for the sun that's now fully risen, and for the calling that led me to the little boys who call me mama and fill my heart every single day.

I hope that you all have a blessed day and embrace your calling, whatever that may be. 

xx R