Boys...

have the power to fill your heart then obliterate it within a minute. Some nights I am amazed at my boy's capacity of kindness. Other nights, I am left feeling like I don't know my own children. The male mind alone is foreign to me, as I am not male. And girls, it is different. Every thing about their thought processes, from the way they react to a verbal attack, to the way they weigh consequences or if it would be worth it to get into trouble anyway. Usually the answer to that one, is yes. I like being a mom of boys. The funny thing is, just like there is a great difference between boys and girls, moms of just boys are different too, and easy to spot. Moms of boys play harder. They have to have a pretty good sense of humor. And yes, that includes all of the 'uncouth' things too. I've learned that I don't have to be proper all of the time, which I have spent the majority of my life doing. Most of my very good friends growing up were male, and it was hard for me to let go of some of that then. Now that I am raising boys, I don't have a choice. I want to raise good men, who don't take themselves too seriously. Granted there is a time and a place for everything, but it's OK to let up and loosen up. Moms of boys may be a little rough around the edges, but I definitely believe it's a survival tactic. It helps to know that when they're grown I'll have a little mafia of protection, because no one messes with a boy's mom. And a son will always need his mother.

What I will add to this, is that there will always be a part of me that is sad for never having a daughter. Sometimes the sadness is so great, it gets me down for the whole day. I never expected I'd have one son, let alone 3! I'm not complaining about that, and I would not go back and change the gender of any of my children if given the chance, but I will always have this sadness. Joe and I really always planed on having 3 kids, so I feel like my chance is gone. After Matt's ultrasound, I felt that last chance slip away. And I'm not ashamed or too good to say I cried. A lot. It subsided, but every time we went to look at nursery sets or baby clothes, I would get sad or disgruntle. Eventually I felt better about it and welcomed our son with open and loving arms. But at least once a day, I think about all the things I will never get to experience as a mother. Ballet lessons, girl's days out, shopping for prom dresses. Planing a wedding. The mother of the groom gets to show up. I'll never shop for cute Easter dresses, attend a first ear-piercing (no, not OK with me for the boys), or supervise a makeover slumber party. To some, this may sound selfish and childish. I have three beautiful, perfectly healthy children, and I should feel complete. But I don't. And to be honest, I'm not sure I could go through the baby stage again. Babies are great, but they're a lot of work. Joe and I really didn't get ourselves back until Drew was about 2.5 and potty trained. Now we are slaves to bottles, Mylacon drops, and diapers. I just can't see starting over after Matt reaches that age when we'll start to feel like actual people again. As a Tao follower, I try to let it be what it is, without questioning the reasons and damning the outcomes. But on this one, it's hard to get over. I feel as though I will miss out on a lifetime of moments that I have dreamed about since I was 2. I read an article recently, where a mother was in the same position, and was feeling everything I am going through. The respondent said she had to grieve the loss as if it were the loss of a living child. When a person invests so much of themselves in a dream and it doesn't come true, it has to be mourned. Amazingly, that's exactly what it feels like for me.

For now, I will attend soccer practice, and karate lessons. I will put up with games of cops and robbers, as much as I despise pretending a finger is a gun. I will invest in toy dinosaurs, and Thomas the Train, and spend hours building intricate tracks and roads. And wonderfully, I'll enjoy every minute of it. But every time I walk by the Barbie isle or a row of dresses, I know I'll feel it again. Even for a slight second, it'll be there.