"You see that right there? Yup, it's a boy," my doctor exclaimed as I lay in the chair tilting my head at the sonogram.
I'm not a girly girl. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like a manicure and blow-out like the rest of them, but it's definitely not my day-to-day. However, I had always been a girl's girl, if that makes sense. My closest friends were girls. I was a badass french-braider. And, as a summer camp counselor for first grade girls throughout my teen years, I was the ultimate cheering-singing-dancing, friendship-bracelet-making, Miss-Mary-Mack-expert, high-energy machine. Just think Molly Shannon, Taylor Swift and Martha Stewart all rolled into one with glasses in a tank top and Soffe shorts. There you have it.
As one of two daughters, I was used to having females in the majority. 3 to 1. Plain and simple. And, most likely for that reason, I pictured myself having daughters of my own. So you can imagine my surprise in my OB's office when it was confirmed we were expecting a BOY. Above all, we, like everyone else in the world, only truly cared about having a healthy baby. But once you get past that, a BOY?!? I mean, I was happy that I wouldn't have been beheaded in some previous life, but, again, after that, a BOY?!?
I didn't have any experience with boys. How could I be the mom of a boy when I didn't know Thomas from Chuggington, diggers from dump trucks, or Mickey Mouse from Mickey Mantle? (Ok, I did know the last one. Wait, how do you spell Mantle?) Well, August 14, 2012 changed my life forever when my son was born and I instantaneously fell in love with this little man. He stole my heart from the start, and my husband and I often agree that it literally hurts how much we care for him so very deep in our souls. On August 14, 2012, I wholeheartedly became the mama to an absolutely amazing boy... and all that comes with it.
Over the past three years I have grown with him, learned with him, and really truly love what he loves because I love him. I never thought I could get so excited about seeing a firetruck, an ambulance, a bulldozer, or even a green cab (what a city kid). No joke, in recent months, I have literally stopped traffic and started screaming with excitement as a helicopter passed by, only to remember that I had just dropped my son off at school, so I was just a crazy lady waving her hands and looking up at the sky holding up a line of angry drivers. I felt a true sense of giddiness when I found "Jake and the Neverland Pirates" underwear for our recent potty training adventure because I knew just how happy it would make my guy. (Also, I now know what crossing swords means.) And, when he got his first medal for graduating sports class (he had just turned 2), it was like the kid graduated from Harvard.
So, when I sat in that same chair at the OB's office during my second pregnancy, he didn't even have to tell me, because I already knew. I was having another beautiful boy. Because I'm a mom of boys. I gladly accepted this title with my first and knew that it would be my badge of honor for the rest of my life.
I know there are many fart jokes and smelly hockey equipment days in my future... and I can't wait. I will be the loudest mom cheering for my boys at the football game (ok, honey, they can play football -- though tennis is still a nice option), and I will play video games with them until my fingers fall off. I will teach them to be true gentlemen (but, c'mon, my 3-year-old already holds the door for me) and I will help them plan the most elaborate proposals when they meet their perfect matches. I will continue to grow, learn and love with them. Because they are my boys. And I am their mom. And that's exactly how it was destined to be.