MaleMom

I am the mother of males, a malemom if you will. I applied for the job by marrying
their father at age 30, wanting desperately to hit my route and carry babies through
all kinds of weather; however, I never thought I would only deliver BOYS! When
I was pregnant with Samuel, our oldest, I would have bet a million dollars that he
was a SHE. After all, he was a light load, standard weight, which we had already
addressed as "Sophia". My second pregnancy a year later was so different than my
first that this time it just had to be a girl; our nine-pound bundle of joy, Joseph,
required extra postage and still barely arrived on time.


Since I was a young child, I have dreamed of motherhood. In all of these fantasies, I
saw myself holding little pink-clad babies with ribbons, lace, and patent-leather shoes. I
imagined brushing long, curled hair and shopping for ruffled underpants. I packed away
my doll collection and my grandmother's china for that certain "Miss" whose hope chest I
would one day fill. I figured my own sentimental nature, love of shopping, and fondness
for chocolate could only be passed on to a long-legged girl who looked just like me. She
would be quiet and gentle, playing for hours with her Barbies. What I got instead was
Buzz Lightyear and Woody the Cowboy with beautiful blue/green eyes, mops of curls,
and huge feet!

Call it mother’s intuition or the notion that I was destined to be the mother of girls,
but I couldn't have been more surprised… and delighted. My boys, now ages 12 and 14,
are tender, kind, polite and compassionate. They have more sweetness and sensitivity
than you could ever imagine in anything with testosterone! They nurture their animals,
and younger cousins all with great enthusiasm and joy. Dressing them up in silly clothes,
reading them stories, and lugging them along behind wherever they go. My boys have
always loved to sing and dance, bake and have tea parties. They laugh and daydream,
read and wonder, smile and steal the room. They still cry at the part of the story where
the Little Engine can't and will soon have their hearts broken by little girls who can. Our tea parties now occur before bedtime, after a long day, when they just need to unload their trials and triumphs with one lump or two. What's even better is that Samuel loves to go to the mall with me, and Joseph will do anything for chocolate; but still, THEY ARE BOYS!!

They run like boys, shout like boys, jump, fly, crash, and smash like boys! Mostly this
means that life is a wild, exciting, LOUD, ride and they are in the driver's seat all day
long. This, too, has taken me by surprise. I didn't know that to be a boy meant having
unlimited energy, enormous lung capacity, and the ability to destroy anything within
wingspan or choke hold. When they were toddlers, I wasn't told that demolishing the block or Lego creations was truly as much fun as constructing them. It took me awhile to establish the connection between the crayon marks on the wall and the finished racetrack picture on the paper. As they grew, I realized that in order to have "played" at the park, you had to lap it 4 times in 30 seconds, having jumped, swung, and hung from every piece of equipment along the way. In my girlish upbringing, I missed the part of the story where the wizard turns into a pirate, and saves the annoying princess from the monster-headed dinosaur by violent slaying on fiery planet Crushton, but they don't live happily ever after because he doesn't WANT a kiss! I hadn't been there! I hadn't done that!

On the days that I long for my boys to sit quietly by the fire and play with their dolls, I
remind myself of all that I have instead. I have been given the great gifts of guys. I have
a lifetime of upraised toilet seats, trips to the emergency room, and new "pets" to look
forward to. The crayfish that comes home in the water bottle from nature camp every
year is always a favorite. Instead of frills and furs, I have pants with pockets, high top
sneakers, and boxer shorts to shop for. I may never pack that hope chest, but I'm getting
good at loading and unloading a backpack for Scout Camp. I get sloppy-quick kisses and
sweaty-head hugs, races round the block, and lightening bugs. I'm hoping for rides in
their very first cars and emails from college missing my meals! Best of all, I get to dance
with my sons someday at their weddings, holding them close once again and smiling
through tears.

So, I'll travel this unexpected route through life. I'll carry my load and deliver my
goods. I'll weather all storms and revel in the rainbow that follows. I'll weigh things
periodically and pray for enough postage to get them where they're going. I'll chase away
the scary dogs that might bite and return to sender anything resembling junk. May God
bless the chaos, the volume, the wrestling, the clutter, and mostly my beautiful boys. Oh, and may God bless this MaleMom who has learned to treasure life's little surprises
through rain, sleet, snow, and hail...and lots, and lots of mud!


Stephanie W. Barsness
August 2010

My Brave Face

     I've been contemplating bravery lately and this is what I've realized. When I was a

little girl, I thought I was the most brave when I crossed the street in front of the

neighbor's dog, who terrified me. In my teen years, it was when I could finally have a

conversation with a boy without blushing. As a college student, it was the time I not only

questioned, but argued with a professor.  While a young career woman, it was getting

through the interview and then asking for a pay raise. As a wife, it was saying yes to the

marriage proposal, and as a mother, it is sending my children out into the world without

me.

     But, now in my middle years, with increasing wisdom and maturity, I've come to

realize, that bravery really isn't just about heroic feats, facing adversity, or jumping in

with both feet. It is simply living a life with courage and class. It is taking the first step,

walking the fine line, asking the difficult questions and facing the unknown. I know this

because I've been watching some truly brave women lately and I've learned from them.

They've empowered me to take a closer look at my life and hopefully take some bold

steps of my own.

     My little sister, the mother of two young girls, has gone back to work full time after

many years at home. One thing you must know about her is that she doesn't like change,

it rocks her world! That's not to say she isn't flexible and open-minded, trendy with great

hair. She just needs a long, slow warm-up and sometimes a good kick in the pants! But,

she did it. She picked herself up, started her own consulting business, and got herself

gainfully employed through creativity, initiative, and resolve. She is now fulfilled and

happy in her renewed career and juggles the demands of motherhood with style, to the

envy of us all. She is one of the most original and entertaining moms and throws a

fabulous party on the spur of the moment. My nieces are delightful, quirky, and full of

imagination, firm in the knowledge that their mom will always be there with a kiss,

cupcake, and a really cute outfit!

     My sister-in-law, also the mom of two, returned to school to study dentistry and

endodontics. Nevermind that she already has a master's degree in physical therapy and

takes time out to run a marathon or two every year. She studies endlessly, works out

regularly, nurtures a husband and home, and has more friends on Facebook than most

people I know. She even makes time to check in with me and coach my ongoing efforts at

regular exercise and weight loss. I'm not sure when she sleeps, or how much coffee it

takes, but she has the energy and strength of ten thousand women.

     My favorite neighbor has decided to homeschool three of her children, while

simultaneously nursing elderly in-laws in her home, visiting her own parents regularly,

and building a new house with a toddler underfoot. She is organized, methodical, caring,

and CRAZY! But, she makes it look easy and never asks for help. Oh, she says she

NEEDS help, she just never asks for it, and if you give it to her, she bakes you cookies in

return. She faces the chaos of her life head on with perseverance and good will and is

always the first one to reach out to someone else in need. I don't know how she does it,

but she has the longest days of anyone I know and she still looks 25!

     My close girlfriend leads a life of worry and struggle. She lives with an abusive

husband, and a child with congenital heart disease. She spends her life walking the

tightrope between hurt and pain, calm and contentment. She never knows what each new

day will bring. It might be a harsh word, a broken spirit, or a medical emergency. She is

never quite sure if she or her son will make it. She clings to her deep faith, relies on her

trusted friends, and gives all of herself, all of the time, to survive. She finds happiness,

even joy, in the little things. A pretty sunrise, a good dessert, a funny joke, or a long

walk. And always, always, in the smile on her boy's face when he is running through the

yard or playing in the pool just like everyone else. His laughter is her best music, life's

sweetest song, her only peace.

     My far-away friend finalized her divorce last year after her husband cheated, lied,

stole, and left their family. She raged, questioned, wept and watched him walk out the

door. Then she let the dogs in the house, the dogs HE banned outside, so they could

comfort her children and protect her family from further harm. She is the model of

dignity, patience, and resilience. She teaches her sons kindness and compassion, her

daughter self-respect and forgiveness. She wears the most beautiful smile and sings the

best karaoke. Her light shines from within, an inspiration above all.

     My two best friends from high school have been diagnosed with cancer in the past six

months. One had breast cancer and the other is battling LDL Leukemia. That is two out

of the three of us. That is too close for comfort. One faced her surgery and radiation

treatment with the spirit of a survivor and became just that. She was always positive,

optimistic, hopeful, and she never complained. Not even when the radiation burned her

breast, and fatigue forced her to fall asleep before bedtime, at the beginning of a new

 relationship, with a man with five children under the age of 10, who needed to be tucked

in too.

     The other is still coping with the initial shock of diagnosis. She is tired, scared,

emotionally fragile, and physically bruised. Yet, reminds herself to be "open to the

lessons we can learn along the way". Her 6-wk regimen of steroids has caused weight

gain and irritability, but prompted her to dye her hair "Dr Pepper" red and ask her doctor

if she could still drink wine. Facing her first week of chemotherapy, she laughed through

tears and came up with a code name, so she didn't have to keep saying the "C" word.

Setting up a CaringBridge site was terrifying, yet she did it with humor and grace,

keeping us all informed of her constant questioning, determination, and strength. Her

guestbook entries are all supportive and encouraging, most upbeat and funny, and some,

inappropriate and lewd-a true testament to the spirited woman, whose laughter still rings

the loudest and longest.

     Finally, I must mention my almost-70 yo mother. She called me yesterday with the

news that she had completed a 2200' zipline ride down Whistler Mountain in British

Columbia. She hung 200' above the forest floor and zipped by at 50 -60 mph, sometimes

upside down! This is the same woman who climbed the bridge outside the Sydney Opera

House, rode a motor scooter in the Bahamas, went hot-air ballooning for her 50th

birthday, waterskis most summers, and powerwalks every morning; yet had the worst

panic-attack of her life giving a speech to a roomful of people at a meeting! She is not

only young at heart, she is young in body, mind and spirit.

     So, you see, I'm surrounded by bravery in all its forms. Courage and class despite life's

roadblocks and rollercoasters. These women who get out of bed, put on their brave face,

walk out the door, and meet life head on. They laugh and cry, scream and yell, wince and

whine, beg and pray. Yet they are in their moment, seizing life around every corner,

taking the opportunities as they come. They don't make it look easy, they just make it

look real. This is life, this is IT. It's messy, painful, terrifying, exhausting, overwhelming,

and all we’ve got. I've learned from them that you take it one day at a time and make the

most of it. You rely on your family and friends. You embrace the good stuff. If you make

a bad move, correct it, start over, and try again. You thank God and you go out there and

live it, bravely, as best you can.

Stephanie W. Barsness

September, 2009