As a mom of two young boys, ages 3 1/2 and 18 months, and 21 weeks pregnant with, you guessed it….another boy, I consider myself a Boy Mom. What exactly does this mean, you may ask? It may mean different things to different people, but I’ll explain it the best way that I can.

I’m a mom. I have boys.  I have no girls. Therefore, I’m a “boy mom.” This means that there are plenty of jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes, and little socks. There are cars (sooooo many cars), blocks (they are still too little for Legos), trains, dinosaurs, and balls.  We watch Transformers, Pokemon, Dino Squad, and Bob the Builder.  There is lots of climbing, jumping, running, and loudness at our house.  Boogers are a house specialty, burping and farting are hilarious, and things are NEVER clean (I try. I really do).  Someone is always getting hurt, and usually it’s by the hand of their brother.  Being a Boy Mom means dealing with a lot of dirt, bugs, and all other manner of gross things.

But here’s the thing: being a Boy Mom is the best thing I’ve ever experienced.  Sure, I may not get an instant shopping buddy, someone to paint nails with, to teach makeup skills to. I don’t get the frills of little girl clothes, cute headbands and bows and jewelry to complete their outfits.  I don’t get flowers and butterflies, fairies and princesses.  What I DO get is way better.  I get this amazing bond with my sons that will never be broken.  I’m not even quite sure how to describe it. I get presents of rocks and caterpillars instead of hand-colored cards. These gifts are what are special to my boys, and they have chosen to share that with ME.  I get special snuggles, hugs and kisses, and more “I love you, Mommy’s” than I can count.  The boys love their daddy, too, and have a very special bond with him as well, but not like with me.  I’m the one they come to when they get hurt. I’m the one to hold them when they are sad.

My three year old often tells me that I’m his best friend.  And he means it.  Not in that typical, preschooler way, where if someone doesn’t play nice, they aren’t best friends anymore.  I really am his best friend. I’m the one he tells every minute detail of his day too.  I’m the one he shares his last Skittle with.  Even when he is upset at me for getting onto him, he still thinks the world of me.

I don’t know how daughters are, and I’m sure there is a very special relationship between mothers and daughters, too.  I know I am very close to my mom, especially now that I’m grown, married, and a mom myself.  However, I just can’t imagine having a more special relationship than the one I have with my sons.

I am so blessed to have little boys.  They make my life louder, messier, and so, so  much better!


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