I Am The Mother Of Boys

I wrote this about a year ago, when everything was still pretty crazy from two very little boys. I marveled at how much they could destroy in such a short time. I was amazed even more at how little it bothered me. (I've always been more about creativity and less about order.) Having little boys has certainly been a life changing experience for me. I wouldn't trade it for the world!


I Am The Mother Of Boys

 I am the Mother of boys.
Crash, Splash, and "Oh No!" are commonplace, and silence is suspicious.
I no longer bat an eyelash at the thought of one purposely dumping sandy pea-gravel on my freshly vacuumed carpet, nor do I jump when a pail-full of water, now empty, is haphazardly refilled with what was, my sweet tea.
A dirty face in public no longer offends me.
I no longer think of children with dirty fingernails as "Looking like orphans."
I am the Mother of boys.
My days are filled with dump trucks, dirt, water, and more dirt.
Four-wheelers, tractors, and trains are the bomb-diggity and rocks, like balls, no matter how big, are meant to be thrown.
Popsicles are a daily necessity and can also be used as face paint.
Brushing teeth, using the potty, and washing hands are way over-rated. *sigh*
I am the Mother of boys.
Frogs, bugs, and fish are to be caught. Deer and turkeys are to be shot.
Getting dressed means we're going somewhere.
My coffee table is often finger-painted with ketchup, yogurt, and whipped cream.
Doctor visits are scheduled around how many bruises are showing from their latest stunts.
Drinks are only good if followed by an extra loud burp and toots are just being generous.
Outside beats inside, sticks beat toys, water and Daddy beat everything; even me.
I am the Mother of boys.