When I first met my Hubs' family, I instantly fell in love with his two adorable nephews, D and J. They were about two and four years old at the time. When they asked me to play with their Thomas the Tank Engine trains with them at one family dinner, I was elated.
Most of the kids I babysat for as a teenager were little boys, so I had plenty of experience with Thomas. In fact, I even surprised myself by remembering most of the engines' names. I grabbed Diesel, the appropriately named diesel engine, and rolled him on over to Percy, the train D was scooting across the floor.
“Hi, Percy,” I made Diesel say. “Whatcha doin’?”
D and J paused and looked at me like I was from outer space for a second, and then they proceeded to crash the trains together, making dramatic sound effects.
“BOOM!”
“BANG!”
“CRASH!”
“KABLOOEY!”
Ah, yes. It all came rushing back to me. All those days of babysitting my younger brother, our pastor’s three boys and a few other little monsters boys at my church – how could I have forgotten? Little boys play so much differently than little girls. My first instinct was to make up a story and start a dialogue, but that’s not how little boys play with trains.
I recalled that day with our nephews and the trains when our son, Quinn, was born. To add to the anticipation of our little one’s arrival, we decided not to find out the sex of the baby. When the doctor announced “It’s a boy!” and my husband’s fist shot up in the air, I was overjoyed. We had a son.
By the next day, the reality began to set in, and my mind started to do its thing that it always does. I wondered if I would be any good at playing like a little boy. (The “oh-my-gosh-am-I-really-cut-out-for-this” anxiety started early for me.)
Quinn is now seven months old, and he’s already all boy. He grunts, yells and kicks. He bangs his toys together. He rolls around the house, exploring and getting into mischief. He laughs at his own farts.
To help prepare me for what’s to come, I turn to several fantastic bloggers who are mothers of boys. They are the only women in her homes, aside from maybe a female pet or two, and their stories are hysterical. They provide a window into what may be my future.
Stephanie at Ooph
Amanda, “a.k.a., Dumb Mom,” at parenting BY dummies (Also check out her list of Dude Mom Lifers.)
Tina at Life Without Pink
Shell at Things I Can’t Say
Kim at Mama's Monologues
Deborah at Ask Doctor G
Stephanie at The Blue Zoo
Becca at Our Crazy Boys
Then there's my cousin who has four boys. His wife, Mandy, keeps a lovely blog about it. I'm pretty sure there's a special place in heaven for her.
Matt and I might have a second child someday and that child might be a girl, but for now, I’m the only woman in my house. So I read these great women and learn how they cope with being the sole keepers of the estrogen in their homes.
Matt and I might have a second child someday and that child might be a girl, but for now, I’m the only woman in my house. So I read these great women and learn how they cope with being the sole keepers of the estrogen in their homes.
Even if you’re not a mother of only boys, you have to check out these amazing women. One witty mom once gave me this reason for why having a son is better than having a daughter: “You only have to worry about one penis and not EVERY. PENIS. OUT THERE.” Haha!
So Quinn and I play like little boys. We yell and kick. We roll around and get into mischief. We both laugh at his farts. And when he’s old enough to play trains with mommy, I’ll make sure there’s a little less conversation and a lot more “KABLOOEY!”
I can remember that.
Are you a boy mom? Please share your sanity tips and tricks below.
