For the Forever of It

Boys are hard. They were hard when I was 5. They were hard when I was 10. They were definitely hard when I was 16. And they're still hard - and I'm 34.

Of course, the reasons boys were hard at 5 were vastly different from those at 10.

And 16.
And 34.

Somewhere along the way, I went from "Why do they pull my hair?" to "Do they ever wash their hair?" to "What's with their obsession with long hair?"

Then I became a mother to a boy. And then another boy. And, still, I think boys are hard. For some mamas, this statement causes a shake of the head with a confused, "Whatdyamean?" For others, this statement provokes an "Amen!" from our collective mommys-to-boys gallery. If you're the former, you must teach me your secrets. If you're the latter, you must know you comfort me, for God said it ain't good to be alone.

Now, hear me: I love my boys. I love being their mother. They do, however, bring unique challenges that (much like mothering girls, I'll add) either readily click into the puzzle of your personality...or they don't. Boys are a bit like that for me: a mass of puzzle pieces requiring me to adapt even as they constantly grow and change.

And for that ride, I've been given two most excellent tickets.

On days when the shine dulls in the shadow cast by bickering, rowdiness, breakage, sass, and will superseding any imaginable definition you've ever before contrived - I look at my sons. Then and now.

My time with them is so short.
So precious.
So finite.

So hard.

They are my sons...
whom, with a mix of great joy and deep sorrow, I will one day give away.
They are boys - young risk-takers blazing a daredevil trail, leaving mud and giggles in their wake.

But they will fast become men.
Husbands.
Fathers.
Warriors.
Lovers.
Their risk-taking will become confidence, their trail will lead others.
And they will leave legacy in their wake.

And still they will be my sons.

Suddenly, hard doesn't seem so bad.
Doesn't seem so hard.
Not for this moment.
Not for the forever of it.