at bedtime, my children turn into dehydrated philosophers who need a hug.

Dear MY tiny humans; my boys,



  • the craziest, messiest, most infuriating, emotionally unstable, unreasonable, frustrating. tiring people you couldn’t imagine your life without.


Being a ‘boy mom’ is NOT for the faint of heart. There are days; days of worry and fear and of pure frustration. Days where I will worry sick until I know you are safe and sound, right where you need to be. Days that I will hate all the loud noise but know in the back of my mind that it’s only for a short time. The days, the years, the moments; it’s all too short. Days when the never-ending speed laps around the house and banging may seem annoying but in reality it’s music to my ears. I repeat; being a boy mom isn’t for the faint of heart. I just hope that I will learn to let go or lessen my fear in the unknown and trust for the greater plan with more confidence. For your sake and my sanity. Someday. [ or never, after all I am a boy mom ]

I try to think about the good moments. I think about you touching my arm and telling me a story about how you scored 99 goals in five minutes or how you counted how many letters are in your name. I laugh to myself alone in the dark. I think about our conversations and realize how grown up you are becoming. I don’t have to make up what you are saying, we have ACTUAL conversations! [ it has hit me like a freight train ]

My heart will never know what it means to mother a girl and that is okay. To buy tiny hair bows or frilly dresses. To have a forever companion for the occasional chick flick or pedicure but it will know love and fierce loyalty like that which you can only get from a son.

How the hell did it happen so fast?


You are perfect; my heart swells like it might burst. Motherhood has made me so strong and so fragile at the same time. Since the day you were born, I’ve worn my heart outside of my body, with every step, laugh and injury you’ve had. Every day I fight against the urge to lasso the world and make it tame for you. I wish I could keep you in a bubble. [ or just a little bit more safe ] I wish I could keep you safe here with me forever, but I will use all my strength, and I will give you wings instead my love; then I will cry the day you use them. [ never ready ]

You are growing up, and sometimes I still see you as little humans; ones who couldn’t reach the light switch by themselves or feed themselves. That’s frustrating for you I know. I don’t trust you, even though it’s time to let you be more independent [ not like moving out independent, we aren’t ready for that, ever ]. I see it, but it can’t be. It was only one second ago that you crawled in my bed in the morning with just your diapers, and we’d snuggle until the sun came up. It was only one second ago that you were sitting in your car seat behind me mimicking some choice words I shouted at traffic. It was only one second ago that I had a tiny crew, and no one was taller than my waist. I swear it was only one second ago.

Everyone warned me of how fast life goes when you have kids, but it didn’t make me ready.

I am often caught up in the craziness; the mess in every room right after I clean it, the vehicles that look like a hurricane of crackers and juice ravaged the interior or the department store volume of toys and clothes EVERYWHERE. There are meals to make [ if I don’t give up and order something instead ], mountains of laundry to do, dishes everywhere…and there is the constant inner struggle with feeling like it’s too much, that I can’t catch up. Ever.

I don’t want to miss any moments with you, but I do.

When I look at you. I see all my happiness.  I see boys that will make their mom proud beyond measure; I see boys that already have. When I look at you I know it’s going to be dump trucks, hockey and dinosaurs instead of makeup and dolls. When I look at you, I see sassy mini me’s, more in attitude than anything.

As I look at you, I wonder how it is possible your legs are so long and your arms so lanky. When I think about the times to come, I feel excited but so, SO scared. I know I’m going to close my eyes for a second, and MY time with you will be closer to a close.

I can’t even handle the thought, or so I don’t think, for now.

I understand the book now. I understand why an old lady would sneak into her son’s room at night.

“I love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

—Robert N. Munsch

As long as I’m living, I will remember you curled up on my chest, no bigger than my torso.

As long as I’m living, I will cherish the moments of your chubby hands in mine.

As long as I’m living…I know you won’t understand until you have your own kids someday, and that’s okay. I didn’t understand either.

I plan to hold you for as long as you’ll let me. You are my babies and forever will be. The world won’t see you the way I do and that’s okay. You will forever mean more to me than you know. Until you have your own babies. But until then. It is the greatest honor of my life to be your mom. You are truly a treasure that I’ve been given, and I will never be the same. You have saved my life. Your hearts are so soft and tender, your eyes are bright and kind. You forgive faster and love me harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You see me through it all. Good and bad.

I have been raised by raising you and I am so grateful.

Please stop growing; but please keep growing.

Motherhood is constant grief and constant joy. It’s so much anticipation and so much letting go.


I’ll love you forever and for always,


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