A friend once told me "I think you are going to have a bunch of boys because you would be a perfect boys mom." And I honestly think she is right. I was never a girly girl. If the Lord gave me a girl I don't think I would even know where to begin parenting her.
I find great joy in watching sports, especially football!
I am very competitive.
I get onto my boys for letting out loud and frequent amounts of gas, but giggle on the inside at their silliness.
I love getting messy with food, dirt, and everything in between.
I encourage loudness, especially loud laughter.
Playing hard is the best kind.
I'm a boys mom, and I absolutely love it.
Last night we were at a friend's house and they had another couple over with a boy 2 months older than our youngest son. As I sat and watched them play, my son was chasing the other baby around the kitchen island. When he would catch up (which was often because he is quite fast), he would grab the other boy with both arms, pull him to the ground, then crawl on top laughing.
At first I was laughing too. We all were!
Seriously, this is my son? The kid that is fast, strong, and smart about what he is doing.
He's going to be athletic! Yippee!
This is the same kid that climbs on things, falls down and laughs.
He stands up in his bathtub, bends over and tries to reach anything outside of his grasp.
He is determined, strong, and stubborn.
If you tell him no, he wants to do it even more and will fake you out until you turn around, then he will sneakily go back to doing what he wanted to do in the first place.
This kid is smart!
Wait, this is my son. Am I encouraging bad behavior? Is my laughing going to encourage him to become a bully? The mean kid? The trouble kid?
Then I thought about my thoughts for a moment and realized how much of the world and what other people might think of my children and me as a mom I was letting into my head.
Boys need to wrestle. Boys need to play hard. Boys need to be boys!
They need to climb, crawl fast, run, wrestle around with other boys, fall down and laugh about it, get back up and continue playing hard. They need to go, go, go, and then pass out (at age 10 months AND 20 years AND still 31 years). The Lord made boys different for a reason.
And I need to trust the Lord to guide me in my parenting instead of worldly thoughts. I need to train up my children in the way that they should go so when they grow older they will not depart from it. I need to teach them the fruits of the Spirit and how to submit to the Lord in order to mold their heart to match His. Most importantly, I need to teach them how to LOVE the LORD, and LOVE people! And I need to stop worrying about everything else.
So as I watch my sons play, watch them goof off, watch my older son pick up my younger son and throw him in the air and do flips with him, watch him pretend that he is a machine gun and fire off bullets (no, I'm not joking - it's their favorite thing to do together) and watch all three of my boys wrestle around; I need to remember that I am the mom the Lord picked to raise these boys and the ones to come. He and only He can equip me to do this. I need to sit back and enjoy the ride - relishing in all of the small moments, big events, and everything else in between. Because before I know it - they will all be gone, grown up, with families of their own. And all I will have are the sweet memories of these little moments, forever engraved on my heart.