If you don't know what this is, you probably don't (or didn't) have any boys.
I can't tell you how often I have to clean up pee from around the base of the toilet seat or along the rim or against the back.
It means you've missed out on that glorious (ahem), several-times-a-week experience.
It means you haven't had to be by them on occasion and remind them (more than once even!) during a single urinating session, to pay attention to what they're doing.
But if you haven't had a boy, it means you've also missed the chance of a lifetime, beyond the toilet seat lovely.
I would have missed their enthusiasm for life, their endless imagination for adventure, their general zest for life.
I would have missed their throaty giggling, tackling, wrestling.
I could have missed out on having lions as members of the household.
Kings and queens and princesses at court.
Knights and Superman and Darth Vader and wizards.
Pocketknives.
Cowboy boots with cutoffs.
Mud with wild abandon.
My legs wouldn't have been a ramp for cars.
I wouldn't have had such a fantastic kitchen partner.
I would not have been able to be a part of the simmered down end of day, when they talk to you about what's in their heart or on their mind.
I would have missed out on being their number 1 for awhile.
I would have missed the opportunity to teach them about womanhood and motherhood and their general view of the world.
I would have missed some simply hilarious conversations.
I would not have realized how different girls and boys are, from the very beginning.
I would have missed the tenderness of their hearts, and their ability to make you feel like you are the most amazing person that walks the earth.
Like yesterday.
I was working with Benji on one of his workbooks.
You had to read the word and identify the picture that went with it and then cross out that picture.
The word was "Nan," referring to a girl.
He decided to cross her out (incidentally, his favorite objects such as the alligator or the astronaut or the bat and the rat got circled because he didn't want to draw a line through them).
He told me, "I don't like her. I like you. And Mia. You guys are so beautiful. REALLY beautiful."
Awwwh.
He's pumped with testosterone, but he melts my heart.
And then this afternoon.
We went this morning to a homeschool friends Friday Fun, where the kids had a science class, a music time class, and P.E.
Afterward, we had lunch at Papa's and headed to the university to go and look at a large pendulum, swaying in the science building. We meandered back across campus and made our way to the bookstore. We chose treats, went down and read books, and then came home.
I made mint brownies yesterday (and ate way more than I should have!) and sent Isaiah to the neighbor's with some.
I watched from the window as my little guy took his time walking over. Watched how he followed everything I'd asked him to do.
Couldn't help but think about how sweet he is and how much I love him.
When he was headed back I came away from the window, not wanting him to feel like I'd been watching him the entire time. I turned into the kitchen when I watched the bottom door handle turn and I knew he was coming in.
He said, "She said, 'Thank you,' Mom."
I asked him about the exchange and what had happened.
Then as he was going to run outside he said to me, "I bet Benji and Mia are wondering what happened to me," kind of laughing as he said it, and shut the door just as I said,
"Thank you, Isaiah."
He opened the door again and said, "You're welcome."
I watched him run out the door, across the deck, and head out into the backyard.
I couldn't help chuckling to myself, which reminded me of Marilla in the kitchen in Anne of Green Gables. Anne runs out of the kitchen, frantic about something, and Marilla laughs to herself in that scratchy way that is so heartwarming.
You have these moments where the love you feel could burst through you.
Where the reality of what a privilege it is to be here with them, right now, sinks in yet again.
Little boys know how to steal their Mama's heart.
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