Five Things I’ve Learned from Being a Boy Mom

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Fellow Boy Mom, I know we live in a more gender neutral world now, and I support that fully. My son has trotted around in a tutu and my heels, and both our daughters hunt and fish. That said, we have two boys and two girls. I’ve learned that a few of the generalities I’d considered to be stereotypes ring true in our family. Here are five things I’ve learned about boys as a boy mom.

1. Boys are born knowing how to drive

My older son could drive our stick shift International truck in the corn field by the time he was in the fifth grade. His dad gave him a twenty minute lesson, and from then on, he was doing donuts in the plowed field.

 I thought the whole driving thing was a fluke until I had my youngest son. I’ve never seen a Little Tykes truck move so fast. Lil’ P’s toddler feet could outrun Fred Flintstone’s. My father was so impressed with his driving ability that he and my mother bought my son every battery-powered John Deere driving toy they could find.

 These boys love to wreck their cars.

They started with this little four-wheeler. Before my father could show him the brakes, my two-year-old son took off. He immediately tried to drive the bike up a tree and flipped it over on himself. I’ve never seen a kid laugh so hard.

 “’Gain!” he said, backing up further for more of a running start. I dove in front of him, but he did a Mario Andretti turn to avoid me. I fell over, and got up just in time to see the back wheels of his bike spinning on a tree root while the front wheels were gripping the bark like squirrel claws. My son still hung on. I have to admit, this boy mom was impressed.

Bigger and Faster

After a few more stunts like that, my parents upgraded him to a John Deere Gator. This battery-powered hot rod had two speeds. My son by-passed “slow mode” immediately and learned to take the corners by the house on two wheels in “fast mode” as he called it. He was the only kid I’ve ever seen drive a Gator in a crash helmet.

 My father had him driving the riding lawnmower while pulling the wagon so he could pile sticks in the back. My son was three. I cannot imagine what he’ll be like at 16.

2. Boys are filth magnets.

I realize this is a no-brainer. I was going to write “dirt magnet,” but the word “dirt” just won’t do it justice. I’m not even sure “filth” quite covers it. I’ve washed everything out of my son’s hair from fish scales (he kissed a dead croaker from the fishing cooler at 18 months old, then rubbed it in his hair) to Kinetic Sand. Washing real sand and mud off him are just every day occurrences. During the summer, we tend to stay on a two bath a day schedule for all the soil variations.

It’s the things like paint, glue, and grease from various car parts he and his dad and Pawpaw take apart that stretch my boy mom patience and strain my washing machine. His fingers are perpetually colored, and bits of his hair may stick together occasionally. He’s happy, creative, and (knock wood) super healthy from rooting around in all that muck.

3. Boys pee everywhere

Aside from being utterly fascinated with their private parts, the boys I know love to keep the garden watered, so to speak. I’ve seen one of our boys try to pee through the deck rails right onto my freshly planted irises. My youngest just trucks on outside when he has to go. He doesn’t even bother with the bathroom anymore. At least he’s conserving water. I’m thankful we live in the woods.

4. Boys love to shoot.

I’ve been in multiple Airsoft, Paintball, and Nerf wars over the past sixteen years. My aim is much better, and I’m smart enough not to get stuck trying to defend the stairs. I still get grossed out when I step on a Nerf bullet barefooted, though, especially if it’s wet.

5. Boys love to cuddle.

Both our boys love to hug and snuggle. These boys could have torn up the house fifteen ways to Sunday, but let one of them come wrap me up in a bear hug, and I’m history. There’s no staying mad these silly, sweet precious boys.

 For all the boy moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day. Here’s to many sandy, smelly, sticky hugs.  May the Force, and the Oxy-Clean, be with you!