I Joined the Circus
I Had No Idea What I Was Signing Up For
Being a boy mom, to me, is the closest thing to joining the circus without actually joining the circus.
Before having kids, I never really cared whether I had boys or girls. I just wanted healthy babies.
But when I was pregnant with my first, I was convinced I was having a girl. I have no idea why because it was my first pregnancy, so it’s not like I had any magical “mother’s intuition” yet. I just knew… or at least I thought I did.
I even had the cutest girl name picked out.
Then I found out I was having a boy.
And I was just as excited.
Still, I’ll forever hold onto that girl name because you never know when someone else might need the perfect girl name recommendation someday 🤭
The Lies I Told Myself About Raising Boys
Soon after having my first son, I remember thinking how great it was going to be raising boys.
No periods.
No mood swings.
No attitudes.
Boy… was I wrong.
Both of my boys absolutely have mood swings and attitudes galore — just wrapped up in 6-year-old and 3-year-old bodies.
My nervous system has honestly never been this out of whack.
Some days I truly feel like I’m going to lose every last precious marble I have left.
My House Is Basically Controlled Chaos
At any given moment, they are:
Loving on each other.
Wrestling each other.
Fighting each other.
Chasing each other around the house at full speed.
The chaos feels endless until their heads finally hit the pillows at night.
And the toys.
Oh my goodness, the toys.
They are everywhere all the time.
Why are boys physically incapable of simply placing a toy down? Why must every toy be launched across the room like we’re training for the Olympics?
The loud crash of a toy hitting a wall or door still startles me every single time.
No two days are ever the same in this house, and honestly, I think that’s part of what makes it so exhausting.
Most nights, I lay in bed catching my breath because I’ve been going nonstop since the second they opened their eyes that morning.
Why Do They Treat Me Like a Jungle Gym?
My boys climb all over me like I’m a playground.
To be fair, they climb all over their dad too — but he actually enjoys it.
I, however, would personally love for everyone to stop pulling my hair and body-slamming me onto the couch.
Trying to explain to a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old that mommy cannot roughhouse like daddy has honestly been one of the funniest and most exhausting parenting experiences.
I’ve had to explain:
“Mommy has girl parts that hurt when you tackle me.”
Meanwhile, in their minds, dad is apparently made of steel and fully prepared for WWE tryouts at all times.
I have lost count of how many times a day I yell:
“STOP CLIMBING ON ME!”
The Love Beneath All the Chaos
I truly did not understand what I was signing up for when they said, “It’s a boy!” both times.
I don’t think anything could have prepared me for this level of chaos, noise, wrestling, energy, and madness that now fills my days.
But the love?
The love is so real.
So pure.
So raw.
My boys have my heart forever.
And somewhere underneath all the chaos and nervous system overload, I know something else too:
Right now, I am their whole world.
One day, they won’t need me to watch every trick.
Break up every argument.
Find every missing toy.
Cuddle every scraped knee.
But today, they do.
So yes, my nervous system may remain on high alert for the foreseeable future 🤭
But honestly?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There’s a reason I was given the title of “boy mom.”
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