I grew up with sisters – the only male in the household being my father.

We were little women;  fully immersed in the play of baking mud cakes, dressing dolls, discussing books and forming clubs.  Lots and lots of clubs.

So motherhood to three girls came as natural.  Their personalities were all different, but there seemed to be a sameness among them.

They enjoyed cuddling with Mom and reading stories – quietly.  Coloring, playdoh, you know, sit down activities?  Yes, there were boisterous moments and days, but it was all familiar to me somehow.

I get girls.

Along came the boys.

Everyone told me they’re different, you’ll see – but what did this really mean? Ignoring most comments, I simply welcomed them into our home and into my heart.

Well, it turns out – there’s some truth to it all! 🙂

As I watch them now joyfully wrestling with one another, leaving Mama without knowing if that was just a good yell or a bad one, I just shake my head.

I’m learning to get this bunch.

These boys of mine.  I love them so.

: :

Recently, I’d ordered some washi tape for a little journaling project I had in mind.  So excited for these when they arrived, I quickly stashed them into my desk drawer, away from curious hands.  Ahem.

During a short break in our day this week, out came the tapes and I worked a bit at creating…

So pretty, so feminine.  So nice.

But a quick moment away found me returning to the 3-yr old unrolling (with great pleasure) lengths upon lengths of Mama’s washi tape.

He smiled wider and wider as he unrolled and commented, I like this tape, Mom!  I need this for my project.

What project?  Trying desperately not to overreact, I gently took the tape and offered him a roll of Scotch tape.  Plain, boring, but functional.  Surely he’d be happy with this.

No, Mom.  I need some of  YOUR tape – it’s sooo nice.  I need some for my project! His face now a little more insistent, matching my resolve that Scotch tape was just fine for him.

Finally, I asked just what this mysterious project was.

I’m sure you’re curious too…..

To cover his football.

His slightly dirty, thrown around both inside and out, kinda stinky football.  It had a little hole in it, and he wanted to patch it up.

With my pretty, feminine, Japanese washi tape.  Oh, my heart be still.  My crazy resolve melted.  For down the road, it won’t matter much about my notebook.  I’ll probably forget about it.

But, I’m building relationship with my son now.  How could I say no to this request?

Of course I should give him some tape.  Of course.

Mothering boys has changed me and challenged me in different ways.

I’m not an expert on girls, and motherhood in general is stretching — but boys?  I think often on this.  For one day, they need to be leaders:  strong, courageous and compassionate all wrapped into one.

My husband does well with demonstrating this to them, and God is teaching me about letting go.  Not trying to always control their boyhood, tame them and hold them back unnecessarily.  They’re going to be completely different than the girls or myself, it’s part of God’s design.

This I need to embrace more and more as they grow.

And if they’d like a bit of pretty in their lives?  I’ll be right there to hand it out.

Washi tape for a football – who knew?