Posted in Family Life

One Mother of Boys Tells Her Story

When I was expecting my first child, I was sure I was having a girl. Thirteen years ago, it wasn’t as common for people to find out the gender of the baby, so we did not know what we were having before the birth.  It was truly a surprise when our firstborn child was a son.  It was an even bigger surprise when he didn’t want to sleep and he was fussy and needed almost constant stimulation to keep him contented.  As he grew into toddler age (which began at ten months old when he learned to—not walk—run), I continued to be confused about the best way to handle this very energetic little person.  Training and discipline were constant in those days.  I was exhausted all the time in those early years.  By the time he hit five or six years old, however, I began to see glimpses of hope that all the time invested in training was starting to bear a bit of fruit.  He began displaying some signs of self-control and was able to sit quietly for increasingly longer periods.  It was such a relief to my inexperienced mother’s heart to see that maybe it really was possible to get through to this little guy.  At thirteen, he is now becoming a young man who would make any mother proud.  He is intelligent, visionary, artistic, well-read and articulate.  The training, teaching, discipline and guidance have not stopped, though the fruit shows a little sooner these days and I can now see proof that it is worth the investment of time, struggles, and tears.  Most importantly, he wants to love, serve, and honor God with his life.  We’re not there yet, but we’re headed in the right direction.  This young man is going to make a difference for Christ's Kingdom.

My second son is the opposite of his brother in personality.  As a baby, he was laid back and content.  I found it easy to keep him happy and occupied.  He was an active toddler, but not to the same frenzied extent as his brother.  As he grew, I began to realize that it wasn’t me.  I wasn’t doing a horrible job and maybe I wouldn’t even ruin my children’s lives as a result of them being more than I could handle.  However, son number two was definitely all boy.  He just approached it in a different way.  My favorite picture of him from his babyhood is from the time he got into the pantry cabinet.  There he was, a silly grin on his face as he sat in the midst of an entire box of cornmeal, as well as some flour, sugar, and whatever else he had happened to come across in his quest to conquer the uncharted territory (the pantry) before him.  Years later, he is now a boy who thrives on work.  But he is not content to do just any kind of work—he wants to do real work that has a real purpose.  At nine years old, he can work as hard and as long as many men.

My newest little man is now a twenty month old ball of fire.  Nothing stands in this boy’s way.  He sees any challenge, whether it be scaling the back of the couch or building a tower of blocks, and will not stop until he reaches its successful completion.  He is a world-class climber who learned how to get up onto the kitchen counter at nine months old.  At this point, the entire family has been trained to never leave a cup of liquid or a pen anywhere on any surface in any room of the house.  I now find myself in that familiar place of exhaustion I had when my first son was little, but now I know these days will pass all too quickly.  I am also much more confident in my mothering skills and since I haven’t ruined any of my other children yet, this one will likely be okay too.  If I could only teach him not to sing “Holy, Holy, Holy” at the top of his lungs in the middle of a church service….

My boys are a source of joy and hope and I absolutely love being their mother.  I can’t think of a better way to spend my days than trying to keep up with them.

This post is part two in my series on the adventure of raising boys.