Not long ago, I babysat for a friend who had a son and a daughter. Both children came with their backpacks of treasures to keep them busy, but it was literally 1.5 seconds before the boys disappeared to play some version of kung fu star wars. But the little girl stood motionless looking up at me, as if she was waiting for something magical to happen! I was grateful for her little pink backpack of wonders, which bore hidden treasures of Polly Pockets, princesses... in essence, all things "girly", for lack of a better word. It all felt very familiar... like I had strangely done this sometime before. But it all seemed so very long ago. But without too much effort, we were talking about favorite princesses, the color of her toenail polish, and about the distinct shades of pink and why they were all her favorite. I think we even spent time discussing her best friend's favorite color, which was no doubt, some shade of pink or purple. Honestly, I think I blacked out for part of the conversation, or rather "pinked" out! My head was spinning, and I found myself at a loss for words in the company of this innocent little 4 year-old girl.
What had happened to me? I expected that this "play date" would have filled a void for me. That it would somehow quench the desire for things I thought I missed out on by having only boys. But to my surprise, I suddenly became very aware that I had surrounded myself with "men" who had very little to say, and I, likewise, had become comfortable with doing the same. Usually, the fact that my husband only speaks when he has something truly worth mentioning really annoys me. But on this particular day, I found myself longing for the silence.
This epiphany was welcomed, because I realized I had been trained, or maybe even been created to be the mother of boys... my boys! Sure, I feel a knot in my stomach when I think of them branching out on their own, eventually in search of another woman to take my place. But as I continue on day to day, I like to listen to the sounds that fill our home. I find it soothing to hear teasing and joking, rather then non-stop chatter; and jumping and wrestling, rather then twirling and spinning.
Occasionally I even experience those tender, heart-felt moments that every mother dreams about. I believe that they are much more memorable to me because they don't happen every day. Often times I have to glean out the precious rarities in my life. Thankfully, I have found some. Contrary to what the song says, I truly "thank heaven for little *boys*"... the boys in my life give me purpose, and for that I am truly grateful!
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guest post by KaLisi Trentadue
