What it means to be “Boy-Mom”

Whilst browsing among the internet this evening, and something stopped me in my tracks {clicks?}.

I feel as if I’ve done pretty well in accepting my role as a mother of a boy. Especially keeping up with my constantly-bouncing-off-the-wall boy who laughs when he farts and has developed a super-hero complex. I deal with the constant question of why I lack certain anatomy and hear about him boasting about his “manhood” at home, and as well in public. Seriously dude, we get it. You’re a boy.

I love my rough-and-tough little guy. Remember this?

And just the other day, Elizabeth and I thoroughly enjoyed our children arguing over whether a Prince Charming figurine {action figure?} was a super hero or not. Obviously, since he was part of a Cinderella set, he was in fact a prince. But, he’s wearing a cape—which totally means super hero! And while Chacey sat quietly playing with her little princess figurines, Jackson sprinted around the room having the “super hero” save the day. It’s just the difference of our kids, a boy and a girl. {who’ve also spent at least 1/4 of their life together, so it’s not ALL just environmental!}

But I came across this book title tonight—and it made me want to cry. This is what clearly makes being a boy-mom different than a girl-mom. Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “When you’re the mom of a girl, you’re a mom all her life. When you’re the mom of a boy, you’re a mom ‘til he takes a wife.” :(

We eventually have to give our boy away to {gasp!} another woman. Jackson loves to snuggle and he constantly tells me out of the blue, “I love you Mom!” For being such a rambunctious little fella, he’s very sensitive and sweet. And it just kills me that one day, I won’t be his favorite woman in the world.

I suppose I need to read this book. It’s a critical job of our roles as parents—to raise him to know how to love a wife and to lead a family. I probably need to be praying NOW about being able to let him go {when the time is right} so I don’t become a mother-in-law that his future wife hates.

But for now, I will just soak up all of his love that he holds just for me. He loves to come and ask to play the “I love you” game. He’ll start out saying “I love you to the sofa {just object in the room}” and we’ll go back and forth {QuikTrip, Grandma Linda’s house, Grammy’s house, Gram-Gram’s house, Gabe’s house etc…} and eventually he’ll say, “I love you to Denmark!” … and he wins. Though the other day, he reached out his arms and said I love you as much as I can reach. Melt my heart. Can you blame me for not wanting to share?!?