Saturday, December 29, 2012
Boisterous, brilliant, blood boiling, bickering, big-hearted, bouncy, blessed boys
I knew it.
As soon as I put my fingers on the home row of the keyboard they'd call me.
Oh boy, those boys!
I have to admit, they've been outside for awhile, doing their boy thing. I pumped up the inflatable sled they got for Christmas last year, which was never used due to the fact there wasn't anything to slide (or is it sled?) on. Since good things come to those who wait, the new sled has kept the boys busy for a good while. And has given me some much needed space.
As I bumble through my days living with three boys (four if you include Husband), I often think of my grandmother, mother to two boys, including my dad. Millie was the consummate example of everything feminine. I don't think she ever owned a pair of pants. She wore an apron as she made dinner each evening. She had fine taste in clothes, and frequently shopped (or "pick-up-and-put-down," as my grandfather liked to call it) at Jordan Marsh and Filenes. Her signature dishes included Watergate salad, Key Lime pie from the winters they spent in Florida, and roasts. Lots and lots of roasts.
When I hear about my dad's shenanigans as a boy who loved all things having to do with engines and speed, I wonder how in the world this woman survived.
In contrast to my grandmother, I am far from the picture of femininity. A tom-boy I was, happy to play in the dirt and roller skate down the steepest hill in town along with my best friend, Jane, in sixth grade. As my step-father will proudly tell you, I won a football throwing contest against three boys when I was about twelve. And at 40ish, I still like to pass the football back and forth with Josh or Husband.
The one thing I seem to lack these days is stamina. The boys Never. Stop. Moving. Ever. Then there is the physicality of their play. In other words, their near constant need to pummel each other.
Wears me out.
Then again, many people have told me how much boys love their mamas. In their less rambunctious moments, I see glimpses of this: snuggling on the couch in the dark of the early morning while I sip my first cup of coffee, hugs and kisses before I leave for work, reading Piggy and Elephant books at bedtime.
So, you moms of boys out there, has this been your experience? Any tips for this tired mama?