the art of raising boys

It dawned on me today as I waited for my boys to wake up that my days solely as a boy mama are rapidly dwindling, and soon raising boys won’t be my only parenting skill set. These little men are my life. From sunup (and, let’s be honest, sometimes far earlier) to sundown, they keep me busy and on my toes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. For our first weekend in our new home, I wanted to make sure we stayed busy. That’s usually not an issue, but at 37+ weeks pregnant, it’s getting harder and harder to keep up with their full-throttle pace.

Nevertheless, we got out, and we had fun from start to finish – daylight savings be damned. On Saturday, Cheryl threw me a surprise baby shower, and it was a total surprise. Baby and I were spoiled to pieces, and the boys absolutely loved playing with their cousins. Though my family was unable to attend, my sweet friend Alicia did with her little girls, and Ryan’s family was there in spades, showing nothing but love and support for our little family. It was heaven.

Sunday wasn’t much quieter. The boys had a birthday party to attend at the Hands on Children’s Museum in Olympia, and we spent almost the entire day there, running errands, and then playing at home. It was busy, and hectic, and fun, and messy – but I think that’s pretty much the essence of raising boys.

Sometimes it scares me a little to think of raising a little girl after having over four years solely with experience raising boys. Other times, it excites me. People ask how I’ll raise her in comparison to the boys. And honestly? My answer is simple. Exactly the same. It’s not so much about whether I’m raising boys or girls. It’s about raising good people. I love watching my boys learn and grow. I love watching them use their manners, exercise compassion, share with friends, and grow as little individuals. That will never be any different for this little lady.

And yet, it’s foreign territory we’re about to embark on, and that’s a little daunting! There’s a lot more pink in our house than I’m used to; more flowers, too, though Ryan might say otherwise. And yet, I’m excited and apprehensive to see my boys with their little sister, to watch her follow in their footsteps and watch these little people grow together. Things are starting to get very, very real.