We’ve had a flurry of
activities this Christmas. Cousins are
in town and activities are morning, noon and night.
I was fine when we missed the
bracelet-making activity. I was told only
girls allowed, the older girls - so my five sons and my one little girl stayed home and made the
best out of the afternoon trying to clean the house up a bit after Christmas
morning from five days ago.
I was fine when instead of
making gingerbread houses with the frosting and graham crackers, the red and
green m&m’s color-coordinated to make a spectacular roof, the front windows
made out of half-ed Oreo's and the frosting flowers built up along the side of
the house covered in sprinkles all my boys wanted to play basketball outside in
the frigid 32-degree night air.
I was fine when none of my
boys wanted to help wrap Christmas presents (a task I loved helping my mom with
every year when I was a kid), even when I threatened there might not be presents
if I didn’t get any help. It was
Addison, my neighbor’s 11-year old daughter who stopped by to pick up her
brother playing with my boys who asked:
“Do you need some help?” I
stared at her, blind-sided and juggled a baby on my hip; a baby boy mind you.
“Really, Addi,” I said amazed
a little human being could stop running, jumping and wrestling long enough to
notice me.
“Sure, I’d love to help,” she
said so I took her into my room/santa cave and with a bit instruction on what gift
was for whom she started wrapping presents.
She didn’t stop once, she didn’t complain, she didn’t get
distracted. She just wrapped
presents. Actually, she seemed to be
having a pretty good time with the different patterns of paper, the bows and
ribbon, the gift tags and boxes. An hour
later, she walked out of the room and thanked me “because it was so much fun.”
Hmmm! What was I missing here?
It wasn’t even the family
talent show where the girls shouted out a made-up Christmas cheers “Hooray
S-A-N-T-A” or dressed up in cute little Christmas dresses and twirled and
spinned. When my mom gathered all the
girls to sing a Christmas carol it was darling.
My five-year old daughter Eden loved it and looked so cute.
And when the girls gathered
to do nails and make up, it was great the boys were indisposed – my five boys
and 5 nephews all, all jumping on the trampoline (maximum limit 200 pounds)
having a slam-dunk contest in the darkness of night.
So, what was it? What finally got me thinking about boys and
why/how/when/ did I have so many boys!
Boys!
BOYS!!
BOYS!!
So, at Krazy Air I watched as
my niece Natalie patiently taught Eden
how do a front flip. She methodically
taught her a somersault, then helped her jump into it a bit more. It was so sweet while my boys where caught up
in the most intense game of dodge ball I’d ever seen.
I can’t believe someone didn’t lose and eye
or an arm or a head. I think someone
might have lost an ego.
It became so clear this
Christmas. I have a lot of boys. Like, so
many.
And so much of my life is
crowd-control, referee-ing and cafeteria-style meals.
What is going on?
Why I had to repaint the boy’s
bathroom . . . again, why the lock to my
bedroom door is broken . . . again, why I refuse to buy any more socks . . .
like ever!!! I do have a few friends who
have only boys or all boys and one girl. When we see each other we give each other this sort
of pity-sighed “hang in there” look;
our straggly hair hanging in a sort of half-pony
tail/half-noose.
Most mothers of five or
more boys have a look of bravery and fear,
but they really fell like this.
It’s a funny game face; screaming for mercy yet shouting “WAR!”
What I really want to be doing is this.
I shout "I'm the princess!"
Why did God give me five
boys?
I didn’t realize I was in a
sort of reality check funk. I just knew
I was struggling a bit to fit into the world of girl’s night out, matching
outfits and trips to the mall that did not involve the entire time at the Nike store.
It wasn’t until we were at
lunch and my boys were arguing over a tray of submarine sandwiches. The just-made sandwiches were wrapped in white
deli-paper, making it impossible to tell which was the ham and cheese and which
was the turkey. Which had lettuce and
which did not. I was fed up! Seriously boys! More elbow-shoving, more name-calling, more indignant
eye-rolling and I couldn’t take it anymore!!! I could lose it. I could seriously go the mental breakdown
route, but I was too tired. I had no
more gut-ruling lecture, no serious consequence or gospel-inspired parable in
me.
I surrendered.
I surrendered at the deli!
Instead of calling out my
boys ruthless behavior, instead of labeling this son that and the other son
this, I patiently (while juggling a darling drooling baby under my arm) helped
distribute what sandwich went where and suddenly, God spoke to me.
He said to me “I know you can
do this.”
He seemed to say “I trust
you.”
I felt a wave of strength fill
me with an interesting confidence. I sat
down and enjoyed lunch and on the drive home, while the boys talked about how
much fun they’d had and what they wanted to do when they got home I felt God
say in my heart “I wouldn’t give this opportunity to just anybody.”
I felt warm and good and
happy.
I spent the rest of my day as
an observer. Who are these boys? These beautiful boys some day to be men!
I have one son who is so kind and attentive to me. Another son acts just like Jim Carrey. He’s funny and the life of the party (also a
total flirt). I have a sensitive son who
needs a lot of reassurance but he’s finding his way. I have a son who’s an all-American kid, like
he just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He loves everything and every one. My baby boy, who up until now would go to
just about anybody only wants mommy. He
bounces in his stand-up chair and watches me pick up toys and start on
dishes. He’s not happy until he’s back
in my arms.
My boys are going to be men
someday - fathers and husbands.
I dare you, look at a man. Would you want to raise him? It would be like swallowing an acorn seed
from a giant oak tree and wondering what it will do to your heart. Crazy! Men are amazing necessary incredible people,
but how does that happen. It’s like holding an ice cube only to watch
it grow into a giant glacier that changes the coarse of the ocean current. Raising
a boy to a man has no pattern yet has every
pattern. It has to have all the
necessary ingredients or it will spontaneously combust. Love, nurturing, discipline, consequences and
dinner on the table every night at 6:00.
Seriously, it’s torture!
Seriously, it’s the most meaningful purpose of my life!
I might miss out on the chic
flicks, for now. Eden patiently waits for me to make cupcakes
with her. I haven’t curled my hair since
high school. All the boy toys I’ve given
away, I’m on the look out for again. The
fire trucks, Bob the Builder and Thomas the Train are back, Eden ’s barbies are in her room and Canyon’s
toys have taken over the living room. I have boys on every range of the scale -teenager to infant!
I want to be understood but I’m
also ok being different. I know where I
stand, not longer in platform heels but old tennis shoes because only my boys get the new shoes around
here. I know where I’m firmly planted, until
one of the boys rummages into me and knocks me over.
So, this new year I’m taking
my boys under my wing and seeing them for the privilege they are. I’m standing out as a mom who doesn’t know
anything but will take on everything for them.
I stand hand in hand with my husband who takes this battle as seriously
as I do. Another thing the spirit has
whispered in my heart is they will all turn out fine. They have a daddy and a Heavenly Father and a mother who loves
them fiercely!
Loved it Laura--you made me wish I had more boys. I only had four sons, your brothers, and their personalities are all unique. The three that are husbands and fathers are doing a wonderful job. The other one, Uncle Sam, is the best uncle ever.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful post, made me teary eyed! Long time reader, first time to comment. God bless you as you mother an amazing family. Shirley in Washington
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