Skip to main content

Having a boy

When you have a boy, you pick out baby clothes with bold colors and trucks on them.

When you have a boy, you learn to put a diaper over him while changing his diaper.

When you have a boy, you always remember to check the pockets before the jeans go in the washing machine.

When you have a boy, you learn that coins swallowed typically come out all right in the end.

When you have a boy, you learn that at one point in his life, you can't keep him out of the tub, and at another point in his life, you have to drag him into the shower.

When you have a boy, you step on Legos. When you have a boy, you learn not to swear while doing it.

When you have a boy, you learn their hearts are just as tender as girls.

When you have a boy, you realize that you can put both feet inside one of his shoes.

When you have a boy, food doesn't just disappear, it vanishes at alarming speeds, and he is still hungry.

When you have a boy, you learn that "I'm good" is a conversation.

When you have a boy, there are often several years when you don't see his eyes due to his bangs hanging in his face.

When you have a boy, you learn you must immediately take him for a haircut after a girl on the bus says, "You'd look really cute with short hair."

When you have a boy, you get used to the smell of Axe. No, you don't; that's a lie.

When you have a boy, there is nothing sweeter than hugging him, even though he's much taller than you now. Maybe especially because he's so much taller.

When you have a boy, you get the pleasure of having him call you up and say, "Mom, how about lunch tomorrow? My treat."

When you have a boy, you get the joy of seeing the man he has become.

Comments

  1. This tugged at my heart. Thanks for making me cry. :-) ~ Rosemary in Ohio

    ReplyDelete
  2. I wrote this right after my second oldest son had taken me out for lunch (he paid!) That boy gave me so much grief when he was a teenager, and he's turned into a handsome, sweet, gentleman. I'm so proud of him - and I'm glad I didn't strangle him when he was 16!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I love comments, even if you don't agree, but please don't leave anonymous posts. A well-mannered reader leaves a name!

Popular posts from this blog

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

Secret Santa!!

Too old for Santa? I think not.

Yes, there are discussions as to whether we should "lie" to kids and tell them that Santa brings them gifts vs. We can't lie to the kids; it's wrong.

There is also the "Christmas is about Jesus" vs. "But Santa is magical!"

You know, we have so few magical and joyful moments, and less and less as we get older. Santa is fun. And the kids usually figure it out, and no one I know was ever scarred for life for believing that Santa brought them and every child everywhere a toy for Christmas.

It's the magic of looking up at the sky on a clear December night, thinking "I'll wait up to see Santa" and later, as you fell asleep at the window, being in your daddy's arms as he carries you to bed.

It's the magic of putting out cookies and milk (or beer, because Santa does like beer) and maybe some carrots for the reindeer, and then checking in the morning to make sure the food was all consumed.

It's…

Advent Brokenness

It was a lovely May evening, the kind we in Michigan savor like honey. After the brutal cold of winter, flowers blossomed, grass greened, mosquitoes flocked. School was almost done for the year - just the formalities of 8th grade graduation were ahead.

Why not saddle up the horse and go for a ride? Why not, indeed. So my sister and I did. I took Prince out across the road from our house, to romp through the weeds on a path my father mowed for us. The view from horseback on a spring night - well, nearly Heaven.

Until Prince bolted. He spooked. I fell. And my arm broke. Compound fracture.

My dog, a collie, had followed us out. He was not particularly trusting of Prince, as Prince would never allow himself to be herded, and this vexed my collie. My dog, channeling his inner Lassie, ran home without me.

My sister had been in the yard with her boyfriend at the time, Gary, waiting for me to come back. Instead, it was just the dog loping across the road. That didn't seem right, so my si…