3 boys? Wow! You’ve got your hands full!” The public consensus upon observing my family out in the wild. These people either have boys, raised boys, or they heard the word on the street.
I wanted a girl. I got three boys. God thought I needed to learn patience, I think, and many other useful things in life. Our house is filled daily with an endless aroma of funky farts, burps, pee graffitti, “come look at my poop!”, messes stacked on messes, screams, squeals, boxing, bloody noses, snot, mud, unknown moisture on floors in random places, light sabers, swords, hostage negotiations, destroy mode, time outs, you get it right?
It’s a hot mess around here. Some days I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack because they honestly drive me freaking insane. I love them, but Daaaaaaang… Give a Momma a break. Other days I look at them and think they are the most precious things on the planet and thank God for them. And then, there are Days of the Apocalypse where I feel like Jesus will actually return. I want to morph into a 1950’s housewife. Lock them out at 9:00 AM, tell them good luck and I’ll see them at lunch time. It’s times like those when I feel like God created me solely to make sure they don’t kill each other or someone else.
This isn’t a “How to Survive Boys” post because I’m not confident that I WILL survive. Molding tiny people is hard work. Basically I just try to keep them alive and not screw their lives up too bad. I can tell you what I’ve got in my Arsenal though.
When they get in trouble they go to time out, and they pray to God, and they pray A LOT!!! Why do We do this? Because a couple years ago I was at my wits end. I was on the verge of taking a gun to all the toys that made noise and blasting their asses to obliteration. The toys, not the kids, duh! Why don’t people use toys as target practice anyway? I feel like it’s a solid concept. I realized that I, as a mom, had no control. These tiny dudes only took people serious who carried around a penis in their pants, and clearly I wasn’t packing.
So I prayed to God to take control, because I had none. And, in that moment I realized that I should make them pray when they’ve done something wrong. Laying the Foundation.
You have to lay a good solid foundation to build and grow on. When building a house, the problem with foundations is that they take a lot of work, they’re the ugliest part, and it takes help from a professional to get it done. It’s not exciting but still necessary to build one. This is important. When they do wrong, have them turn to God. Pray and repent. Even if they do it over and over and over, which they will, eventually it will click with them that it’s wrong. It also teaches them to build a relationship with Him and lean on him in times of weakness and need. One day it will all make sense to them but right now foundations.
Sometimes, when the boys go to time out now, they pray on their own, which is awesome. Does this mean I’ve got this parenting thing under control. HaHaHa! Absolutely not. That means I’ve just laid that one crucial block in the foundation. We have a lot more work ahead of us. Weathering a few storms is the only way to know if there are any cracks and holes. If so, we just clean up the mess, patch the weak spots, and wait for the next storm to come. Then they will be stronger and better prepared to take on bigger storms in the future.
Peace, Love, and Jesus,