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