I'm a boys' mom and proud of it

Never in my life could I have imagined myself living a life as a mom of five. Even more, I still find it shocking that I am the mom of five boys. Lets face it, this once self labeled girly-girl is now a full fledged “boy mom.” 

When I found out that I was pregnant with Peyton, I’ll admit that I wanted a sweet baby girl. One that I could bond, shop and talk hair and makeup with. I wanted a relationship with another human being to compare with the bond I have with my mom. I think I knew in my gut that he was a boy but my head and heart was saying something different.

The big day came to find out what this being was and low and behold, he was all too anxious to show us his “parts.” I’m not too sure that with boys that ever changes either! I’m still ashamed to admit that I cried. I cried that he was a boy. Then immediately following that emotional cry, I cried because I cried. 

I guess you can call it hormones but I felt so guilty that I was so wrapped up in wanting a daughter that I couldn't see past the fact that I had a healthy baby boy growing inside of me. To this day, I still have that gut wrenching guilt because now, I wouldn't change this little man of mine for the world.  

Once I got the hang of mothering a boy, the thought of having triplet boys didn't scare me. Early on in my pregnancy with the triplets, I was asked over and over what I wanted. At that point, I wanted three healthy babies. There was this thought and desire in the back of my mind that I wanted three more boys. I tried not to voice it or get my hopes up because I figured that the chances of having at least one girl in the batch was pretty high. Surprise surprise, they had no problems showing off all their boy parts either! I’m really doomed in that department I’m afraid.

And then came Mac. Poor guy, I really though he was a girl. Something just told me he was female.  And then he showed us his parts as well. The hardest part of having another baby boy was coming up with yet another male name. 

Anyone with lots of kids, especially of the same gender will attest to the hardships of naming children. It becomes slim pickins, I tell ya! Thus the reason he has what I call a birth certificate name and nickname. Mac has no idea is name is actually Kolt.  

So with all this being said, I really wouldn't have it any other way. Everywhere I turn I am reminded that I am a boy mom. My column today was inspired by a trip to grab something out of my car this weekend. After a long Saturday spent at the ballpark for Little League opening ceremonies, 

I opened the back door of my car and literally out tumbled three empty Gatorade bottles and two pair of cleats that were kicked off during the short ride home. Two more pair of cleats are shoved under the seats and the back end of my vehicle is piled high with four baseball bags filled with helmets, bats, gloves and balls. Oh and it reeked of the aroma of leftover concession stand nachos.  

My yard is littered with balls – footballs, baseballs, basketballs, etc. along with Nerf guns, bikes and scooters. You have to tip toe through the house in fear of stepping on the dreaded Lego. I’m not sure what the heck Santa was thinking last year when he brought four boxes of 1,600 Legos.  Do the math people…thats 6,400 Legos in addition to all extra sets we have. You really can't imagine where I have found Matchbox cars, Nerf darts and army men. I really could go on and on.  

My days are not spent doing hair, playing baby dolls or watching made up dance routines. Instead, there are lots of games of catch, watching games of Madden played on the Xbox, a lot of mud cleaning and the sound of sweet giggles in response to burps and other unmentionable bodily noises. 

Truth is, I’m totally okay and quite content with all things boy. Surely one day, I’ll get to break out my old Barbie dolls to play with a granddaughter or two.

Raising boys isn't always pretty and definitely not easy. I am bestowed the honor of getting to mold five boys into honorable men, loyal husbands to five lucky ladies and loving fathers to my future grandbabies. And how many women can say that they have five handsome men that will love them unconditionally forever?