The Joy of Boys

About a week ago, our family made the drive down to Houston for a funeral.  A family member died, and we went to pay our respects.  All five of us hopped in the car at 8am to make it down right in the nick of time for funeral and graveside service.  It was beautiful and truly celebrated life.

Afterwards, Andrew and I took the boys to get some much needed food and burn off all the extra energy.  Seeing as we wouldn't allow them to run around the cemetery or jump on the inlaid gravestones, they were itching to play.

We, eventually, made it to my cousin's house for the gathering of family and friends.  A bunch of family was there.  My aunt and uncle had flown in from Florida to attend the funeral.  We haven't seen them since the kids were born, so it was nice to be able to catch up.

As the adults were talking, my boys decided to run around in the backyard with their toys.  Fine by me.  Run, play, burn all the pent up energy you have.  You have my blessings.  As the boys are getting their nice dress shirts soaked in the bird bathe, my aunt and uncle started telling me some of the shenanigans their 3 sons (my cousins) got into when they were younger.  Laughter was abound.

After awhile, Andrew and I said our goodbyes, gathered up our wet children (who thought they were sneaky grabbing fruit and cheese off the food trays), and headed home.

I've been thinking about my boys and the trouble they get into, the fights they pick with one another, and scenarios I never thought I would be apart.

I never knew anything and everything could be made into some sort of weapon.

I never knew I would have to explain not to touch your 'big penis' and it will go down.  Nor did I think I would be privy to fact my children like to show me when they have one.

Wrestling is a sport performed any and every where.  Dad included.

Dirt and digging will always be a favorite past time.

Taking their shirts off or getting naked is no problem, except at bath time (go figure), even when it is 20 degrees outside.

Playing good guys and bad guys never gets old.  Along with fighting bad guys, arguing who is the bad guy, and having Mom yell she's going to assign the bad guy if the bickering doesn't stop.

Eating is a favorite pastime, and I can never have enough of anything in the house.

Sitting and beating up the youngest (even if he is only 15 months old!) is another favorite pastime.

Watching sports for hours on end is learned very early on and requested at times.

The announcements of toots and burps is quite prevalent.

At an early age, their rooms start to smell like dirt and stinky boy.

Even with all of these things, the joy of boys is not lost on me.  I get hugs and kisses still.  I get told at least a dozen times a day 'I'm a girl.'  And when little hands land on my very pregnant belly, it still makes me smile.  They are kind and caring.  My boys still love to snuggle with me on the couch, even when I'm slightly opposed to it with my large belly right now.

They are sweet and caring in their own way, my boys.