Boys will be boys

When I found out I was preggo with our last baby, the big question about gender became rather pressing.  Hubby and I were both in agreement that this would be the last heir produced in our home.  Biggest sister was 13 at the time.  Little sister (soon to be big sister) was 2.  Those that are attentive to detail will notice that we set ourselves up to have a teenager, a terrible two and a newborn in our home all at the same time.  Yeah.  Good planning there. 

Back to the gender issue.  You may also notice that prior to the arrival of #3, our home was a bit heavy on estrogen.  A mom, two girls and one daddy....take a wild guess as to what he was praying for when we got the ultrasound.  Lo and behold, there was a penis.  We found out half way into the pregnancy that we had produced a boy to complete our family and tip the scales a bit in favor of the guys. 

While this news brought a mile-wide grin and chest-puffing pride to my husband, it instilled sheer terror in my heart.  A boy?!  Yes, he had ten fingers, ten toes and all the other essential parts, according to the ultrasound.  But I am a girl.  I know how to be a girl. I get what it's like to grow up as a girl.  I know how to mother girls.  Boys....I was at a loss.  I have friends that are boys.  Heck, I even married one.  I have a brother.  And a dad.  But I still felt completely unprepared to MOTHER a member of the opposite sex. 

I called my friends in a panic, "It's a boy!  I don't know how to be a boy!  How will I successfully mother a boy?!"  My dear, patient friends assured me I would figure it out.  "Boys are different," they told me.  Quickly followed by, "You'll love it." 

Turns out they were right.  He is different.  I do love it.

Our "baby" is now two years old and providing us with all of the fun, laughter, exasperation and exhaustion typical for his age group.  He is all boy.  Sort of. 

He also has two sisters, one of whom is 4 and in the prime of the "Princess Phase".  And since he is two, he naturally wants to do everything big sister does.  Nobody has told him yet that boys can't be Princesses.  He hasn't realized that these photos might really be embarrassing when they show up in his high school yearbook.  All he knows is that Princesses have more fun. 

And let's face it. A mom in the midst of raising a two-year-old boy is sometimes a little tired.  Sometimes she may be a little frustrated or impatient.  But when that two-year old (notorious for ear-splitting screams, throwing food on the freshly mopped floor and occasional hair pulling) dons a princess dress, it's hard to not smile.  And breathe a sigh of relief that maybe this business of raising boys isn't so different after all.