Mother of Boys

At some point, I think it was last November, I woke up & realized I was a mother of boys. You know, boys, noises with dirt on them. Not girls, which as we all know, are giggles covered in glitter. But boys. Our accessories here are bibs and pacifiers on clips. No special bows or headbands to be seen. No skirts, dresses, frilly socks, tights, or tutus to be seen in our home. 

& then they were here.

Some 400+ pictures on my iPhone ago. Two little boys in blankets and blue hats. And they’re still so small but they are such little boys. They flirt with women, they poop, pass gas, spit up and then smile about it. Boys. They fight. Already. They have screaming matches and swatting matches. They want all of mama’s attention. Their clothes ar covered in dinosaurs, sharks, monkeys, fish, turtles, lions, all the animals. They drool all the time & you will probably never not see them donning a bib. 

I know the days are coming. With legos, potty training aiming, mud, trucks, sports, and the like. I can’t think that far ahead. If I start thinking ahead I’ll think about broken bones, broken hearts, & worse. No today I’m thinking about the boy on my lap in the shark romper and the boy sitting in his dad’s lap in a shark onesie with boardshorts. Those boys that look at me like I’m the most important woman in their world today. & I think, in this moment, maybe I am the most important woman to 3 whole people…one of which that now needs a diaper change. 😑


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