Posted March 17, 2014 by Prairie Wife - 4 comments
As a kid growing up I was the youngest of four, Texas Two Steppin’ is my older sister by 10 years and then I have two older brothers (Big Brother T and Big Brother B). I spent half my childhood begging Ma for a little brother and when I realized it wasn’t going to happen I decided that having 6 boys of my own would be perfect (I have since changed my mind). Flash forward a few years and The Cowboy and I are holding our first son, Cowboy J. I had always been a tomboy growing up, and really didn’t start turning into a fashion and makeup obsessed woman until my early 20’s. I was thrilled with the thought of having a sweet little cowboy running around in wranglers and a cowboy hat, imitating his daddy. And my dream of a herd of boys seemed to be coming true!
Then Cowboy J became mobile, at 8 months he was walking…and into everything, Saying that he was busy would be an understatement. In one afternoon alone he got into The Cowboy’s cologne and razor (thank God it was a safety one and he didn’t get hurt), sprayed the kitchen floor with Pam, and dusted the table with a thick coating of salt. I was pregnant with Cowgirl G at the time and had to go to the bathroom more often than usual. After the third incident the little punk started going with me…and this was just the beginning! Holy cow are boys busy, they are excited and enthusiastic about everything, which is an absolute joy, but exhausting as well!
I definitely got the little cowboy I wished for, complete with endless hours spent “elk hunting” where we wandered around the house looking for elk and then gutting them. This was a special kind of torture for me because I kept on having flashbacks to my first elk hunt. For his third birthday The Cowboy got Cowboy J a set of spurs and those suckers went everywhere. I still have scrapes on all of our leather furniture. We ended up going through three pairs of cowboy boots a year because he would literally wear holes in the soles he wore them so often.
When Cowgirl G was born we were ecstatic, and as she grew older the inherent differences between girls and boys became quite clear. She was dressing herself at two years old, when it had been an outright battle to teach Cowboy J at three years. She would sit and color at the table for 30 minutes and would play in her room with dolls for hours. We gave Cowboy J a doll to play with before Cowgirl G was born, to get him ready for the baby. He took one look at it and threw it down the stairs, literally.
When Cowboy W was born it was more of the same busy boy. Except that he was a climber and had this super power of a shit eating grin that makes it impossible for anyone to discipline him (I am immune to it). One day when he was 18 months old I was vacuuming in the living room right next to the kitchen. I kept on hearing him say “Mama, Mama, look!” So I finally turned off the vacuum and walked into the kitchen, only to see him standing on the kitchen table holding a butter knife and trying to hit the chandelier with it! That’s another thing about boys (and men too let’s be honest) they come up with these ideas they think are genius and as mothers we are left either rushing to save their lives (jumping off the roof of the pickup onto the trampoline) or shaking our heads (building a gold mine in the canyon).
Cowboy J just turned eight last week (sniff) and I now have 3 boys. Cowboy C is barely one and already crawling on the ground with a truck in each hand pushing them and making a loud diesel engine noise! We’ve tightened all the safety locks on the doors and made sure all the heavy furniture is bolted to the wall (seriously you need to do this if you have boys, or really kids at all). Seven year old boy humor causes me to forcibly focus on not rolling my eyes and when the neighbor boys come over I watch as each boy losses 9 IQ points for each friend in the room, another trait that occurs with men as well.
I love my boys, and they are truly a gift from God. For all the noise and dirt and busy exhausting days…the light in their eyes when they proudly tell me they killed a Spider for me, or hand me a bedraggle Prairie Daisy that’s been in the pocket of worn out Wranglers all day makes it all worthwhile. My collection of rocks is museum worthy, and the smell and feel of a freshly bathed boy in footie pajamas will always bring a smile to my face. Thank heaven for those busy little boys.
What do you think about busy boys?!