5 Things I Have Learned about Being a Boy Mom the Third Time Around
When my husband announced to me “Oh, it's another boy” in the delivery room with my third son, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. With my third pregnancy, I did not find out the gender of my baby until that moment, but I thought for sure it was a girl. I carried differently, and I was much more sick. In reality, I was really, really hoping we were having a girl.
Throughout my pregnancy, I had visions of shopping trips, tea parties, and crafting with my daughter. These visions quickly vanished and turned into adventures at Monster Truck shows, hot dogs at the ballpark, and building Legos with my three boys the day Ryker was born. I love my boys, and I can't imagine life without them.
Here is what I have learned about raising them over the past six years.
All three of my boys have the strength of 10 kids when I try to get them into their car seats. They all arch their backs, kick, and fight me right until the very last click of the belt.
By the time I have all three of them strapped in, I'm sweating, sore, and in dire need of a nap. I'd rather walk clear across a huge parking lot from one store to another than wrestle them in and out of the car when we are out shopping.
They can change into their superhero costumes in three seconds flat. As soon as I tell them to get dressed for the day, they drag their feet and fight me EVERY TIME. Typically, this song and dance ends with me wrangling them into their clothes, frustrated and tired.
All the talk about how potty training boys is harder than girls is so true. Potty training my first son was the first parenting task I despised. It was exhausting and a bit neverending.
It all began when I had the bright idea to try the 3-day potty training method, all while nursing a 3-month-old.
After three long days, we both became potty-training drop outs, and I pulled way back. Gradually, I introduced potty training here and there. To make a long story short, it took Xander a straight year to be fully trained.
Three boys under the age of six means I cannot walk in a room in my house without stepping on or being attacked by a sword, Lego, Hot Wheel, or some other random piece of plastic.
My kids have the most random piles of toys everywhere, from zombies to whoopie cushions. Their interests change on an hourly basis, and they amaze me with their ability to fight over the same toy no matter what it is.
In a span of six years, I feel as if I have aged about 15 years as a mom of three boys. My boys are always pushing their gravity limits with their never-ending antics.
At the age of 18 months, Noah decided to jump off from a step stool in the bathroom, resulting in a gash in his forehead that needed three stitches. When he jumped out of a pack-n-play, he landed on his arm the wrong way and broke it in two places.
Just this past November, my youngest son fell in the kitchen, hitting his head on the cabinet. While crying in pain, he held his breath, turned blue, and passed out. This scary incident resulted in an 8-minute helicopter ride to our local children's hospital. Watching my child lie on a stretcher in a helicopter was the absolute scariest moment of my life.
Thankfully, all his test results came out negative, and we were discharged from the hospital that evening. Boys sure know how to make your heart race.
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