As a young girl, I envisioned a life filled with two sweet daughters. I imagined them in lovely pink dresses, white tights, and shiny black shoes, happily playing with their dolls for hours. In my dreams, we would shop for the latest Barbie Townhouse, sell cookies for the Girl Scouts, and delve into Nancy Drew mysteries, debating which Hardy boy was the most charming.
Then reality struck—I welcomed three lively sons into the world.
To be frank, my romanticized notions of motherhood didn’t prepare me for the reality of:
- Stocking up on Shout, Gatorade, and Goober by the case.
- Experiencing the relentless hilarity of falling into the toilet—more than once.
- Scrubbing urine off the walls—seriously, is this still happening?
- Stepping on countless sharp Lego pieces, which seem to multiply overnight.
But amidst the chaos, I’ve discovered some perks of raising boys:
- Leftovers? Rarely exist in my house.
- No one clamors for crop tops or belly-baring shirts.
- Summer camp packing is a breeze since they wear the same outfit day in and day out.
- I can invite friends over and simply shrug, “What do you expect? I live with three boys and a St. Bernard!”
However, don’t let that whimsical image fool you—being a single mom to three boys presents its own set of challenges. Underwear habits have been particularly amusing (and perplexing). Early on, my boys adopted the carefree practice of running around the house in the nude. Hours spent jumping up and down playing video games, bare bottoms on kitchen stools, and oblivious to the world outside—my windows bore witness to their antics.
I finally had to put my foot down: “No underwear? No Wii.” “No undies? No tree-climbing!” “No underwear? No zip-lining!”
When my youngest attended summer camp, we had a serious talk about the importance of returning home in his own underwear and not borrowing from the nearest floor. It turns out that boys in a rush have a habit of snatching whatever they can find. Even today, he brings home wet, stray undies from places like locker rooms and sleepovers. While his heart is in the right place, I can’t keep adopting these lost items.
One amusing memory was when my middle son, at age 9, insisted on getting Under Armour underwear for basketball. I discovered they functioned like Spanx for boys. After the purchase, he excitedly modeled them, revealing a pocket that he playfully demonstrated. “Look, there’s a pocket right here!” He then pulled out a semi-melted Chapstick, declaring, “Tah-dah!”
My youngest chimed in, “But what if you’re at McDonald’s and are 50 cents short for fries? ‘Hold on, I’ve got change in my underwear—let me dig for it!’”
From the other room, my 12-year-old erupted, “You two are so clueless! That pocket is for a cup—a cup for your, well, you know—your jewels!” Who would have thought?
When it was time for soccer, I needed to find compression shorts—essentially tight underwear. At the store, I found myself without my glasses and asked a teenager for help. “How do I know which pair to get for him?” I inquired. “These are designed for protection and come in six-inch or nine-inch options.”
“Oh,” I stammered, “He’s in 4th grade and just moved into husky sizes, but, um…six or nine inches? It’s been a while since I’ve seen…”
“Ma’am,” the teen interrupted, “I’m talking about the inseam.”
While raising three boys as a single mom can be challenging, I’ve realized I have my advantages. I only have to keep track of three boys and their antics, while mothers of daughters have to be concerned about all the boys out there! So, buying Goober by the case doesn’t seem so daunting after all.
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Summary
Raising boys is a whirlwind of laughter, challenges, and unique experiences that can often take you by surprise. While the mess and chaos can be overwhelming, the joys of motherhood shine through in unexpected moments. Embracing the journey, with all its quirks, is what makes it all worthwhile.