It's hard to imagine our household without the overpowering energy of males. Even as babies, boys seem to exude adventure, risk, and dirt...with a lot of grass stains thrown in. I walk up our path and can hear the growling, whooping, and hollering coming out the window. I step through the door and into an arena. For the first 15 minutes I am the main attraction as they clobber me both physically and verbally.
Run, jump and hook onto either my waist or neck pending if I've had a chance to crouch down in time to catch them.
"Parkour Boy threw me in the pool!"
"We made a fort in the hallway!"
Wild giggles and jostling for front talking position.
"Holy Terror tore up my drawing!"
"Super Wy's stupid!"
"The little boys ruined my room!"
Slight pushing with sneers and smash-talking.
"I put cheese on the dog and he ran around trying to get it!"
"Dinosaurs invaded the back yard!"
It's these moments I love coming home, it reminds me I'm still an integral part of their lives. I'm not forgotten throughout the day and they are excited to catch me up on what I missed.
As a mom to boys, I'm lucky that I was never a girlie-girl. I've learned not to baby them too much and make sure they feel proud of themselves as much as possible. I've also learned the art of the airplane twirls, verbal throw-downs, karate/kung fu/wild kicks maneuvers, and most of all...hugs without the friends looking.
My life is dominated by them. I was meant for boys. Hubby, Parkour Boy, and my 2 little red-headed amigos Holy Terror and Super Wy.