Everywhere I look, I see it.
On t-shirts, memes, windshield stickers, hashtags.
The coveted title of boy mom.
I always knew I would be terrible at the job of boy mom. Having grown up an only child with mainly female friends, my exposure to little boys was minimal. When I was around some of my boy cousins, I was horrified by the dirt, the obsession with bugs and rodents, and the constant sports that came along with their daily lives. I have always been a girly girl. The thought of dirt getting on my shoes or of spending hours at the ball field makes me cringe.
When I played house as a little girl, it seemed I was almost always a girl mom with gussied up girl dolls in tow, their hair swinging wildly in long pigtails as I twirled them around this way and that.
Of course, I realize many little girls are drawn to sports and dirt, too. But being a boy mom would have provided more of a likelihood of a longtime link to dirt-covered shoes and ballgame sunburns. Just recently, on Facebook, I saw a picture of one of my Facebook friends scrubbing mud out of her son’s baseball uniform – for like the third time that week. Although she seemed tired and overwhelmed with the task, there was another feeling in that photo. Pride. Boy mom.
I wasn’t cut out for the job. God knew it.
Yet, sometimes when I see little boys swooning over their mamas, I wonder what it would be like to be on the opposite side of things. The enamored way little boys look at their mamas, the way older ones don’t want to disappoint their mamas. Pure sweetness.
But if I were a boy mom, I might have missed the 3 a.m. blood-curdling screams in which my frazzled two-year-old woke up the entire household because she wanted a different hair bow than the one she demanded when she went to bed.
Pride swelled in the heart of this girl mom when that same two-year-old ran into the house carrying the shopping bag of her new boutique outfit she would wear for the fashion show, shrieking, “Fatshion show! Fatshion show, Dada!”
But then the girliness suddenly got out of control – an obsession with purses, shoes, changing outfits multiple times a day and – as I mentioned above – hair accessories. It become too much too fast. Even this girliest of moms became overwhelmed.
For a while, I was totally annoyed by the self-imposed involvement of Scooter Britches in my morning routine.
When she saw me running my straightener through my hair, she pointed at her hair, wanting me to straighten hers. (I only pretended to do so.) When I put on my mascara, her little finger immediately started flicking her own eyelashes.
Now, that I’m no longer a first time mom, I knew what to expect as Little One grew into a curious two-year-old. Same methods, different kid.
Last week, when LO insised the Hubs wait on here while she ran to get her adorable new Cat & Jack purse before leaving for the store, there was no doubt of the girl mom influence going on in this house.
With purse in the crook of her arm, she entered the kitchen and said, “I’m weddy now, Daddy!”
When I am running late – which is nearly always – SB and LO love to start pulling random pairs of shoes out of my closet, insisting I put them on. I find myself getting a little put off by my personal stylists.
When I am cooking or baking, SB wants to be right in the middle, helping to pour ingredients or stir. And if SB is right in the middle, LO wants to be right in the middle, too. Cute? Yes. Practical? No.
In our home, Daddy has been the longtime favorite. I never expected anything different, knowing the familiar bond a little girl has with her daddy.
But you know what? I could swear that LO has a special little grin and squeal she reserves just for her mama. And I’m content with keeping that our little secret. And I like to think I am SB’s favorite cuddle buddy on the counch.
Here’s to all the girl moms, boy moms, moms in waiting, and moms with babies in Heaven. May you feel pride for whatever you call yourself.
All photos on this page are by the amazing Lori Sparkman Photography!
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