Originally published Saturday, 13 June 2015.
She believed what she said when the kind woman, who had raised beautiful girls into lovely women suggested that the child-reading of girls was the same as the raising of boys. I smiled and nodded. I wouldn’t know the difference, truly. I’m raising up boys in that frat house of mine.
My mom spends the day with us. There are many moments where we both simply sigh from pure exhaustion. Three little boys. Three stair steps. Three brothers. Once upon a time, I had a lot of energy. Lately, I can’t quite identify myself as “energetic.” I’m absolutely exhausted at the end…make that the middle…of every single day.
There are times when I have to put my pride aside, my expectations of having it all together, so that I can confess my heart. “I don’t remember our house being like this,” I say to my mom, a woman who I can only call an expert with young children.
It’s true. Our house was so “together” when we were little. My mom kept it all so..tidy. I have moments where my house is tidy every day…and then five minutes later…yikes!
My mom reminds me, “I had a good little girl who occupied her little brother while I caught up on daily housework and paid bills.”
Ahah! There it is. The dynamic is different, and not because I’m a failure…maybe just maybe! {This is excellent news because I am fairly certain the jury was still out on that one.} My mom is right. I remember our morning routine with my mom. After breakfast, my brother and I always retreated to our play room where I made a long list on our Little Tikes chalkboard of the games we would play that day. I entertained him for hours every morning while my mom completed a few tasks for the day. Friends, do you know what little boys do after breakfast?! They build forts out of couch cushions. They wrestle for no obvious reason. They dump out buckets of Legos. They pee on the floor! Lavender scented bleach for the win.
“Little boys are just different from little girls,” my mom reminds me. She would know, right?! My mom had one of each: a girl and a boy. She taught Kindegarten at a private school when I was a baby. She had equal numbers or brothers and sisters. The sum of her years as an educator in the public school system are roughly thirty school years, after all. So…Yep! In my mind, I rationalize this all and declare her an expert on children. I decide that she must be speaking truth.
It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? God created girls and boys to be different people. Little boys are wired for adventure and activity. In the very depths of their hearts, they are growing to become men who will protect their families with the brave honor of a husband and with the strong leadership of a father. {Disclaimer: you and I both know that girls can also be adventurous, brave, active, and honorable. Of course we can! Girl mamas and fellow women: don’t misunderstand me and go all “Rosie the Riveter” just yet. Hold up, sweet friends.} I’m simply saying this: It only makes sense that toddlers and preschoolers with large quantities of internal testosterone would need to be trained in a different way to…you know…NOT climb the walls. This is a real thing in our house. I’m not kidding, friends. One of my children literally has the stength to climb a door frame. Moms of boys be like, “Gracious, YES!!”
Little boys are born with an innate need to romp and roar. Their little bodies need to climb, run, and throw things. Their little hearts desire to create castles of sand and blocks just to destroy and rebuild again. We cannot deny them that.
Our society says there isn’t a difference. They say we aren’t born differently, even when we know our genetic make-up is scientifically proven to be different. Don’t misunderstand me, precious friends. In many ways, I am a strong woman. I know what women can achieve. I’m not speaking the language of achievement and potential, by any means. I’m simply speaking “boy-mom” right now.
I’m speaking of the mud puddles, the frogs in the house, the frequent reminders to “sit on the couch correctly,” which easily translates to, “For the love! Stop jumping off the couch, people.”
So here is to you, boy moms.
Here’s to the women raising boys to be men. Here’s to the mamas who have been entrusted with the responsibility to nurture wild hearts into noble fathers and husbands. Here’s to the ladies that demonstrate the “way to treat and respect” a woman, who teach the value of women, by first being an example of self-respect for themselves. Here’s to the moms who will not give up on the exhausting days of battles and forts in the living room because we know the true battle is the one we are fighting to capture their hearts. Here’s to the women with mad skills in stain removal, to the ones who buy stock in cleaning supplies, to the ones who scrub tennis shoes clean just to watch them jump in a mud puddle again. (Be still my heart. There’s OxyClean for that.) Here’s to the women that carry the assignment to nurture the next generation by nurturing the leaders of families to love their wives as Christ has loved the church. Here’s to you…you who teach the hard lessons of integrity and honor in the midst of your own joyful “frat houses” where you ( YOU the mother) becomes the student of patience, mercy, and parts with materialistic ways as “once-precious” items shatter into a million pieces because someone brought a baseball inside the house. Here is to you who holds the little boy in the middle of the night with another bad dream and teaches him to fear not, because he will be a brave man, the protector of his own home in the blink of an eye. Here’s to you, the woman who points the source of real courage and strength to Jesus as you teach the importance of seeking the Heavenly Father above all else.
This is for you, fellow boy moms. Your role is unique. Perhaps you were created for such a time as this? Is the mothering of little boys your Esther moment? The road isn’t always easy when we are right here in the trenches of parenting littles. You and I? Yep, we know this. Motherhood, the nurturing of any eternal soul, is always, always a calling. It is always about the eternal work of teaching and loving and praying and honorably living to the very best of our abilities…and then some. And the strength to do that? It’s never our own. It is always, always Jesus.
“Your greatest contribution to the Kingdom may not be something you do but someone you raise.” ~Andy Stanley
From my little frat house to yours, ~Courtney
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