Thanks to Laura at Heavenly Homemakers for sharing these sweet thoughts on the joys of raising boys! It blessed me greatly!
When our first baby was born a boy…I was very happy knowing that any other children we would have in the future would be under the protection of an older brother.
When our second baby was born a boy…I was glad our oldest son now had a brother to play with.
When our third baby was born a boy…I decided that God must have something special in mind for our family. THREE boys?
When I was pregnant with our fourth baby…you can just guess what everyone around me was saying.
“Going for a girl this time?” “Finally going to have a sister for all those boys?” “You’re having a girl, right?” “I bet you’re sure hoping for a girl this time!”
With each of my pregnancies…we waited to find out whether the baby was a boy or a girl. We loved the surprise…though no one around us did. ESPECIALLY when I was pregnant with our fourth! Everyone was dying to know if we were finally going to have a girl!
When our fourth baby was born a boy…they laid him on my chest…and all my husband and I could do was laugh for joy that God had given us yet another son!
Boys are so sweet. Boys love their Mamas like crazy. Boys think their Daddys are the best. Boys….ah boys. Boys bring such joy.
Whoever said that only little girl clothes are cute…and that you can never find any cute little boy clothes…never saw all the adorable outfits at my blue baby showers.
And I dare say…there’s a little something to be said for being able to run a comb through their hair real quick before dashing out the door. No bows or braids or hair doo-dads to keep track of.
I love how boys play (now that I’m used to it!). Our house is usually noisy, rough and fast…there’s not a lot of tip-toeing or sitting down quietly to color pictures at the table.
Generally…I find that the male greeting (between my boys and all of their friends who come over to play) has little to do with words…and a lot to do with grabbing onto and pulling one another down to the floor into an immediate wrestling match.
I’ve learned to look the other way…smile…and shake my head about so many things that I used to fear would turn into a trip to the Emergency Room. Boys play rough…they can’t help it. They make noise…it oozes out of their pores.
Rolls of wrapping paper become swords or light sabers. Toast and grilled cheese sandwiches are chewed into the shape of little guns. Math books become drums. Little pink erasers become race cars.
Everything (everything) becomes a competition…who can finish their milk first…who can put their jammies on the fastest…who can get from the kitchen to the living room without touching the floor.
It’s one big, loud, ball game at our house all day long…and I wouldn’t trade it for all tea parties in Boston.
I consider it a huge honor to be the mama of boys. Boys who we pray will grow up and be Godly leaders some day. Boys who we pray will be Godly husbands and daddys some day.
Oh…and some day…I’ll have daughters. Some day…four of your daughters will grow into godly young ladies who will marry my sons. I’ll take them shopping and we’ll cook and do hair together.
Until then…I’ll just continue to feed mountains of mashed potatoes and huge stacks of pancakes to all these boys while they make all the noises with their armpits that they are so good at making and while they laugh at all the things boys can’t help but think are funny.
Boys who have completely and totally won my heart.
God bless you Lindsay, as you begin your journey as Mama to a boy.