My first #Boymom valentine - Team Studer Mom

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I grew up in a house of sisters. We were like most girls; sharing clothes, twirling to dance parties, playing Barbie dolls, school, and make believe restaurant. We were thoughtful and kind to each other. Occasionally we were hurtful to each other but in the sneaky kind of ways that girls are; the mind games and snide comments instead of the fists and wrestling kind of hurtful. We had mostly girl cousins too, so we really were sort of cushioned in a way from the reality of living in a house with boys.

I grew up and married my high school sweetheart and for the first time in my life, I shared a home with a boy who wasn’t my Dad! My husband did plenty of things that seemed bizarre to me, but it was all new and kind of fun too!

Please know that I’m generalizing and simplifying here for the sake of this post, but I found living with a boy (a grown, well raised, decent man who loved me, knew how to compromise, and talk things through) wasn’t too much of a shock. _{(*public shout out to his parents – thank you Pappy & Gigi!)}

And then we had a son. And he was a baby and we adjusted to what life would be like with the three of us: two adults and one baby. BIG adjustment, but we figured it out.

When our son was about a year and a half, I started to realize that living with this boy…this boy child of ours, was going to be a bit more of a challenge than I anticipated. I was overwhelmed and really felt like I had no idea what I was doing. Truthfully, I had no experience to draw on coming from a home of just daughters. So, I wrote 25 Rules for Mothers of Sons to try to focus my efforts and keep it together. Writing that piece was an exercise in self preservation.

Slowly, I started to get the hang of it; being a #boymom.

I learned to lean into the physicality of raising a boy, I learned about things I had no clue about because they were important to him, I learned to let go of so many things (clean clothes, rocks in the washer, climbing on furniture, balls in the house, nerf bullets in my face and under the couch).

I loved that dirty, wild, loud, nonstop ball of energy who had his daddy’s sweet smile who tackle hugged me multiple times a day.

But there were still many times I was blindsided by him: by his love, his way of experiencing the world.

And it goes on still! I continue to be blindsided by what it means to be a #boymom twelve years later and probably will continue all through life.

I will say, the most hilarious and refreshing part of being a #boymom is that sons will totally keep you humble and grounded.

I had one of these moments when I got my first real #boymom valentine. It happened when our son, Grey was about 3 years old.

He was practicing cutting with little scissors. I thought I would be cute and sweet. So I gave him a folded paper with half a heart dotted out for him to cut.

He’s following the lines and when he finishes I encourage him to open it up.

I’m thinking – What a touching moment it will be when he unfolds it to see he has cut a heart. My heart, sweet boy – I love you darling, forever and ever.

I could barely contain my smile as he unfolded the paper.

He smiled so wide and I thought gratefully, there’s my boy with my heart in is hands.

“Wow, I made a butt crack!” he shouted delightfully.

yeah, #boymom.