I remember when the doctor told us we were having a boy. I looked at John who was staring at the monitor in disbelief. And then came the grin from ear to ear. We just looked at each other like, “Can you believe this? We’re having a boy!” I was so happy and excited. And nervous. Because I knew nothing about boys and boy stuff.
I grew up in a house where girls ruled (sorry, Dad!) My sister and I shared a room. We sang into hairbrushes and the end of jump ropes. We lined our bedroom walls with pictures of cute boys from Tiger Beat magazine. We danced around our living room. That is what I knew.
What I never could have imagined was how much I would love being the mom of two boys, with all of their Legos, Nerf darts and fart jokes. That a girly girl like me would not think twice about the lack of pink and sparkles I had always looked forward to. That their goofiness, and sweetness and almost-as-tall-as-me hugs would fill up my heart to nearly bursting. But that is exactly what happened.
This weekend Max turned eleven. We are on the verge of middle school. What comes next, I’m not sure. But I do know that he’s a great kid, an amazing big brother, and that I am blessed to be his mom. And that I am happy to be the only girl in a house where boys rule.
