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Becoming a mom was THE biggest shock of my life. New identity, heart split in 2, physical pain, confusion, and sleep deprivation. Becoming a boy mom, was the second biggest shock of my life. I was not prepared for a life of poop, farts, penises, concussions, fights, and SPORTS.
Some background about me: I am a girl’s girl to my core, I’ll hype you up, I’ll hug you big, and I’ll giggle until we’re on the ground. I always dreamed of a successful career and motherhood wasn’t on the list until one day, three years into marriage, I decided, I want to be a mom. I’m 37 and a mom of two boys, 6 & 9.
No one prepared for me what it was like to become a mom, and no one prepared me for what it was like to be a boy mom. I mean how many shocks can a woman take!
The day the shockwaves began… at my 20-week sono appointment with my first. The sonographer said I see a penis! It’s a boy.
My response, “unsubscribe.” “No ma’am, it’s a girl”, followed by tears.
In my mind I saw dance, and braids, and glitter, and ruffles and I was just shocked.
A boy?
What do I know about boys?
I hate watching football with my husband, I’ll be a terrible boy mom!
The next shockwave, early on, was at all the baby gatherings. ALL the girl clothing was so damn cute and let me tell you the boy clothing was so NOT. Navy, white, gray and stripes. So lame, all the baby clothing designers were clearly moms of girls. This was the start of the world of a boy mom for me, my first peek behind the curtain.
The boy mom baby days weren’t entirely different from my friends with baby girls, except for little things like getting a stream of pee in your face.
No one told me that I needed to cover the penis during a diaper change.
Come on, that’s an easy one.
The earth-shattering shocks were once my boys entered pre-k, and elementary. This was when I started noticing the stark differences in the classroom and the behavior at home.
Most girls I noticed were pretty chill and would color with each other; the boys were not chill and they had a hand down their pants.
The girls would get notes home about their organizing the classroom, the boys would get notes home from teachers about the “overuse” of the word butt.
The girls have legit psychological warfare in elementary.
The boys have knock-down, drag-out fights on the playground.
At home, my house is covered in urine, my 6-year-old chants “buttcheeks”, and farts are the most entertaining thing in the house.
My 2 boys have a baseball, football, or basketball in their hands at all times and play to win regardless of the game. The minute they walk in the door until we’re reading books before bed, the agenda is going to include sports.
I never envisioned weekends dictated by sports games, but the love they have for them is massive, and so I in turn love watching.
We have very specific clothing requirements, only athletic gear. I don’t get to shop for any other clothing. I’ve come to terms with that, it’s what they like and honestly, I think they look pretty damn cute in their Nike leggings with shorts over them with a hoodie. As my 9-year-old says, they’ve got “mad drip”.
So, as you can tell I in fact, did not unsubscribe, I subscribed AND paid for the membership to the boy mom club.
I’m now a VIP. A board member. And it’s my favorite membership. My boys teach me something new every day about their world.
I want to be the best boy mom I can be, which is by actively listening, learning, and allowing them to be the silly goofy humans I brought into this world.
What I know is that the universe wanted me to be a boy mom. I was meant to be this goofy, poop joke telling, baseball gear carrying mom— I just didn’t know it. I have uncovered a love so big, I opened myself up to learning about all the things these 2 little boys love. They are the most snuggly, adoring humans and they also happen to love sports, pokemon, farts, and penis jokes. I want to be a part of their world, so I’ve let myself mold and grow.
I wish I could go back and hug myself at that sono appointment and say it’s going to be okay.
Where were my friends, aunts, my own mother telling me the raw parts I would have LOVED to prepare for in having boys.
I needed a manual.
What to expect when you shoot this baby out, but, FOR REAL.
What to expect when you raise a tiny male human, but, FOR REAL.
Who knows, maybe I’ll write the manual.
