I'll have some sugar on my quinoa, please.

Just like most moms/wives, I spend about 73% of my time thinking of what I am making for the next meal. Whether it be boxed cereal or mac and cheese, I try my best to make 2/3 of the meal somewhat healthy to achieve well, you know, 'balance'.  Balance is such a funny word. It is thrown in every walk of life as the ultimate goal: a healthy balanced diet; a work-life balance; a social life balance.

Being a boy mom, I have also realized balance is just as important in my expectations of their reactions. 

Tonight as I was driving the boys home from daycare, we had the usual "what's for supper?" conversation. They ask this almost immediately upon entering the vehicle. If I have something that I have worked really hard on I have learned to minimize it. I call pretty much everything "hotdish" even if it is grilled salmon on rice. I used to tell them my immaculate plans only to hear the polite disappointment in their voices when it wasn't one of the 3 following items... pizza, hot dogs, or spaghetti.  Now we RARELY have spaghetti. This is purely selfish on my part because I hate the mess it makes and the stains it leaves. But every once in awhile when I'm feeling ambitious, I have the privilege of announcing that it is "SGETTI NIGHT!" And tonight was that night.  I could hear the genuine excitement in my boys reactions while I tried to hide my discontent with the inevitable aftermath. (Not to mention that one rogue hardened noodle that I am bound to step on two days later that feels like a mini knife in the ball of my foot). It takes about 7 minutes to drive home from daycare, about 30 seconds from the driveway, I hear my eldest say "That's good mom; {long pause} that's good  that you didn't make chicken again"; as he stared contently out the window. Did I mention he is 3 years old? I couldn't help but laugh out loud and ask him to repeat it, again in the most calm and understated way he gave me kudos on making spaghetti of all things. But really he showed me that balancing the healthy grilled chicken with a carb-filled plate of spaghetti wasn't something to dread but something to be proud of because it brought joy to my boys.

Now part of this next example is very much because all 3 of boys are so young still and not necessarily a part of the boy mom repertoire but still applicable. A few months before each of the boys birthdays I begin my birthday party planning.  I dream of the menu, decor, and gifts. I try to establish a common theme by spending countless hours on Pinterest, searching anything starting with "boy..." Turns out most of the cute birthday party ideas I am drawn to are for girls so hence the filter. But over time, I have realized they don't really care about the theme, in fact no one really cares about the theme except for me. I've learned little boys simply like fun things, happy people, and sugar.

This doesn't mean I am going to stop planning or Pinteresting  (or cooking chicken more than spaghetti) because it something that brings ME joy. I sprinkle in what brings THEM joy and we call it, you guessed it....'balance'. I am still going to arrange the fruit tray like Captain America's shield even if  I've never watched a full episode of The Avengers. I am still going to buy coordinating "garbage silverware" as the boys call it. It might be in Hulk green but oh well!


They have taught me it is OK to bend a little more than I am used to outside of comfort zone in a effort to find the ever so coveted balance and I'm so thankful for that.

The only thing pink in my world was the pregnancy test box.

In a world where I am surrounded by all boys (including a male cat), I needed a space that I could call my own. A space that wouldn't get muddy, wouldn't get a grass stain, or show up to church with a Kool-aid mustache. This is that space. I decided to start a blog -not because I wanted to jump on the millennial bandwagon- but because I wanted to chronicle my life as a boy mom.

Growing up my world was filled with Barbies, softball (and not the cool fast-pitch kind, the slower-than-molasses kind where you have to hit a ball the size of the moon), and creating the most fantastic cheers after we would score a point in volleyball. I always dreamed of having a little girl that would carry on my "ahhhh-ACE!" cheer but instead God decided to bless me with boys. And when I say bless, I do not mean it in the fluffy hastag sense, but I mean it in the most profound sense. I truly love my little men.

Since this is my first blog-let's go back a few years to our first gender reveal. I wanted to go big or go home so naturally we used a shotgun to blow up a pinata in the woods for the extra spectacle. I had provided my dear friend with the essential blue and pink trinkets to stuff into the colorful donkey. I had this dream of having a boy first and girl second (like 90% of expectant mothers I am sure). The boy would be the protector and the little girl would come in and add a sweet subtlety to the family dynamic. So when the blue confetti flew out, I can't say I was an ounce disappointed. I was thrilled; my dream was coming to fruition.

Then ultrasound day for baby # 2 came. The anticipation was just too much to wait, so my husband and I opted to find out right then and there. I was fully expecting to hear the "girl" word. When the technician typed, "It's a.... boy" on the screen, I felt my raw emotion kick in. I know it isn't politically correct to feel disappointed but my 'internal girl' did. I looked at my husband who was beaming and he said "it's going to be great, they will be best friends!" And sure enough, they are (so far :) )

About a year and half later, we were back in the same room with the same results. However, this time it was different. I was different. See...I knew our 3rd baby was most likely our last baby and with that in mind, I had put so much pressure on myself to have a girl. As if my own expectations weren't strong enough, my surrounding world and social media fed my hopes until they were the size of the balloons at the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. The comments came flooding in the with my pregnancy announcement... "The boys need a sister"; "Daddy needs his little girl"; "You need a girl so you aren't so outnumbered."  The truth is no one NEEDED a girl, what I wanted and needed were not important. What was important was the healthy human in my belly that was about to enter this big ole world.


I had convinced myself that all the well wishing comments and girly pregnancy symptoms (increased heartburn and pounding hormonal headaches) meant I would for sure have ruffled butt leggings and burlap flowered headbands in my future. And when that didn't happen, something else did. I had a mini melt down and not the cute kind in the movies where a slow paced montage plays with a Sara Bareilles song. The ugly irrational kind where my words were inaudible between my sobs. My husband tried to pull me back to reality and reminded me of all the beautiful things that lied ahead.

Meanwhile I was listing all the things I was going to miss out on: the prom dress shopping, the wedding dress shopping, the first grandbaby's nursery shopping. Ok, ok, I see that shopping seems to be the only thing I was worried about here. What if my imaginary daughter DID NOT like shopping, or Barbies, or softball, or heaven forbid her mother's beloved volleyball? I hadn't thought of such a thing but the reality was I couldn't count on reliving my girly memories with someone I hadn't met yet. My interests don't automatically get transferred because we have 2 X chromosomes.

This is the part where I am supposed to say I woke up the next day and realized I was ridiculous and changed my mindset and embraced the boy mom mentality. While I did wake up the next day and believe me FULLY realized how ridiculous I had been; I did not change my mindset in that instant.

If I'm honest with myself, it wasn't until I actually gave birth to my third son that mindset fully changed. Bringing home my third boy was so effortless and so wonderful that I truly couldn't envision my life any other way.

I have started to realize that I am not missing out on anything but that I have gained the three most loving human beings that I could dream of. Dreams change. They sometimes even open up new ones. I have always wanted to be an author. My husband may scoff at that because since we have been married he can count on one hand the amount of books I've read for leisure. To that I say: I love to write, not necessarily read, ergo my blog was born. I'm passionate about this subject because it is my duty to raise these little guys to not just be the best husbands and fathers in the future but rather just be the best people. Gender is not the determinant of your character, purpose, or journey in life.

This blog's purpose is to explore the boy mom world, capture it's essence, and take away any  stereotypes that may come with it.  My hope is that you can relate on some level to the stories and reactions that I experience along the way.