Y’all.

It has come to my attention that I am officially a BOY MOM.

I can now throw a football. I can wedge my hand into the tiniest baseball glove ever and catch a ball. And, not to brag, but I can play swords with the best of them.

While I used to freak out when Nathan would get a goose egg or a scrape, now it’s nearly second nature to reach in my purse or open the bathroom cabinet for the ready and available band-aids. I’ve realized that he will just always be covered with bumps, bruises and scabs. And my kisses can cure just about anything.

I know the fine art of assisting a hundred Matchbox cars plunge to their fiery deaths over the edge of a bookcase. I have discovered the intricacies involved in creating a pirate ship out of nothing but a couch, a bathroom stool and a couple of throw pillows. And, possibly most impressive, I have learned not to care what my house looks like until after bedtime.

I know more about pirates, dinosaurs, Mater, Jake, Curious George, shake and race cars and poking it down on the potty than I ever dreamed I would know or need to know.

I have roared, growled, arg-ed, yelled “batter up” and listened to a little boy, who is already giggling at himself when he burps at the table, do all of the same.

Years ago, I thought Jon and I would probably have all girls. And I was ready for it. Pretend makeup, toenail polish, little dresses and tiny skinny jeans – I was ready. I was the girliest girl ever as a kid. Now, all of my friends have girls and we’ve babysat for them on occasion. They are totally content to sit on the couch and watch a movie or read books while daintily eating their snacks so they don’t mess up their hair.

While my son is flying off the couch weilding a sword with a bandana tied around his head yelling, “I’M HAPPEN HOOK! YOU’D BETTER RUN, MOM!”

Someday, God willing, I hope we have a girl.

But right now, it’s crazy, it’s insane, things get broken in my house. It’s never quiet, it’s never clean and the most terrifying sound in the world is “oh no” followed by the toilet flushing. Dirt is scrubbed out from someone’s fingernails every night and I now consider shorts and light up Woody cowboy boots to be a store-appropriate outfit.

I’m a boy mom, folks. And I am loving every minute of it. 🙂