As the mom of boys myself, I truly enjoyed reading the reality, candor and humor in the post that I am featuring in The Sampler this week! Rachel is the mother of three very active little boys who insist that it is okay to go outside, no matter what the weather is like. She is the owner of www.BusyMommy.us, a website geared towards helping moms survive motherhood one mess at a time, and blogs about what it is like to mother boys at Puppy Dog Tales.
Mother of Boys
I think I am officially a mother of boys. There is a huge lawnmower box covered in crayon in my front room, “roads” made out of masking tape all over my playroom floor, and plastic lizards on my couch. This is giving me flash backs to growing up with three brothers. I have a friend who swears that after the third boy the baby weight just falls off because you never have time to sit down. My chocolate addiction seems to have relieved me of that benefit but I’m hopeful that it will work for me down the road.
My kids have grown up so fast that it shocks me how quickly I made the transition from cute little baby blue clothes without holes in the knees, folded neatly in the drawers, to a house where you can’t walk 5 feet without stepping on a hot wheels car.
Tonight, one by one, each one of my children let me rock them in the rocking chair that I have had since my oldest was born. That was a rare moment. Most of the time I have to chase them down to get a hug. My two year old had one of his screaming fits. I was trying to put him to bed and he was trying to tell me what he wanted. The poor kid knows exactly what he’s saying but no one else can understand him. All I got was he wanted something done to his blanket. He got so frustrated that I couldn’t understand him that he just burst into tears and started screaming hysterically. He started crying so hard that he was choking on air and I just gave in. I picked him up and sat down in the rocking chair with him and he laid his head on my shoulder and forgot whatever it was he was upset about. He was asleep in minutes and I just kept rocking him.
When I went to put him back in bed, my 4 year old leaned over the bars of the top bunk and said “Mommy, can you rock me too?”
This is the child who insists that cannot still be my baby when I tell him that he will always be my baby no matter how big he gets. This is the child who tells me he is too big for cuddling and too old to hold my hand. I know that my days are limited with this one. Even now, the times he asks to sit on my lap are few and far between. I couldn’t turn him down. He sat on my lap while I rocked him and told me how soon he was going to be 5. And after that he was going to be 6,7,8,9, and 10. I wonder if I can rock a 10 year old boy on my lap.
My 7 month old, who is usually the only one to put up with being rocked, was the last one in line. I rocked him while he played with my necklace and gummed my fingers. Today, he is the baby. But I know it won’t be long before he will be filling my house with ladybugs and rock collections, just like his big brothers are. Before I know it, I will have three grown men staring back at me and I will be wondering where my babies went.
~ Written by Rachel Lister of BusyMommy.us.
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