Boys and Girls

When I was about 27 and my little guys were 3 and 6 I wrote a little story about being the mother of boys. I entitled it something like “What Would I Do With a Girl Anyway??” I wrote about how much these little guys had taught me. I learned from them daily. One was an expert in dinosaur-ese and the other was fearless (and had the scars to prove it). I was their hero when I smushed (their word, not mine) a scorpion in the kitchen with a TV Guide. They thought that was very cool. They brought home baby turtles and “special” rocks and a tick or two that followed them in from the woods. They were raised on peanut butter sandwiches (no jelly) and spent their days chasing Ginger the dog up the mountain. Plaid flannel shirts and overalls and baseball caps were the uniform of the day. I pitched endless whiffle balls to them in the front yard (such as it was sitting on the side of a mountain…). The three of us planted a huge garden one year on the whiffle ball field and we ate peas fresh off the vine. Over the years I sat on the sidelines and cheered on more Little League games than I can count.

I was quite content living in the rough and tumble world of little boys. I really didn’t know what I would do with a girl.

Life is funny, though. Little boys grow up to be men and with that comes love. Now I find myself with two girls. Two beautiful girls – inside and out. Two loving and giving and sweet souls.

And I didn’t know what I was missing. We go shopping and talk about fashion. We go to lunch and split a salad because we can’t eat the whole thing. We laugh and roll our eyes over men. We have slumber parties and talk into the wee hours, solving the world’s problems (but mostly talking about fashion and celebrities and shopping and diets and men). *wink* We talk about art and flowers and beaches we've seen. We even got tattoos together.

The best part? Seeing how happy they make my boys. Seeing how their lives are complete now. Seeing how they truly have found their missing piece – their other half. And knowing that when I’m gone, a mother’s love will continue thru them…

My work is done. The torch has been passed.