On raising boys...

I held him today.  The truth is I do every day.  After all, he's only 8 weeks old.  But today has been a fussy day.  A day filled with too short naps, too short nursing sessions and too many tears.  As the afternoon hit, a new wave of tears came on.  So I held him and we danced.  With his perfect, mostly bald head on my shoulder and his tiny bottom resting on my arm we swayed back and forth to a song that existed only in my mind.  As he settled in and traded his wails for the deep even breaths of sleep, I inhaled deeply that intoxicating smell that only your own babies possess.  He smelled so sweet, having just had a bath this morning.  And somehow, in the midst of this moment, my mind fast forwarded 20+ years and I thought of dancing with him at his wedding.  When his tiny body that fits so easily in my arms now will be traded in for the body of a man.  When I will likely have to look up to look into the blue eyes that are in that head that rests so comfortably now on my shoulder.  Will my head even reach his shoulder then?

It's funny.  He's not my first boy.  I first learned of my capacity to love a tiny little boy almost four years ago when Woodson came into my life.  It was a turning point of sorts.  Up until that point, being a Mama had been all about girls.  Hair bows, dresses, dolls and strollers.  That was my world.  A world that I knew and understood from my own time as a little girl.  However, the other day I realized that there will come a time when my house is not graced by a girl other than myself and the weight of being the Mama to two boys truly hit me for the first time and has weighed heavy on my mind since then.  When I stop to truly consider the task at hand it almost seems impossible: I am (partially--I do have a fabulous teammate alongside me) responsible for raising these two little boys to become MEN.  Not overgrown boys, but men.

I don't have to worry about them not having a good role model in their lives.  No, the unknown in this scenario is me.  Will I be able to rise to the task of raising boys?  Can I engage in the rough and tumble play?  I've honestly never been very good with dart guns and fart jokes--both of which I have heard I need to brace myself for as these little boys grow.  And perhaps most importantly, when the time comes for me to let them go, will I be able to do so gracefully?  Will I trust that their dad and I have done our job of equipping them to lead their families and will I respect their new position as the head of that family?  Will I learn to offer advice while simultaneously understanding when it is disregarded?    

It's a tough gig, parenting these little boys...simultaneously holding on to every moment while cheering them on and letting them go.  Realizing the task at hand of raising men in a world that would encourage them to be anything but.  Admitting my own selfishness and being determined to not let it stand in the way.

And so, I will continue to hold him...along with his blonde haired, blue eyed big brother for as long as they'll let me and when that day comes for me to let go I will remember what their tiny hands felt like holding mine, the weight of their sleeping bodies on my chest, the snuggles and cuddles and I will hope and pray that I have done my part to send men into this world.