‘Girl Mom’

Never in a million years did I think that my family of four would be anchored by ONE strong man. I was certain that I would have at least two; one big and one much smaller version of the big. But, God saw fit to bless up with girls. And I’ve only recently given up trying to convince The Husband to try one more time for the son we just thought we were meant to have.

I often read blogs detailing what it’s like to have boys; what it’s like to be a ‘Boy Mom’. And what I’ve realized is that ‘Boy Mom’ or ‘Girl Mom’ or a ‘Boy & Girl Mom’, we share many of the same experiences.

Did you know that little girls, mine especially, love to sit with Daddy and watch sports. They hoot and holler with the best of them. Not only do they love to watch sports, they love to throw, and catch, and kick, and dribble, and run…

ballgame

And little girls are messy. Really-really messy! You wouldn’t believe the dirt ring around my tub after a full day of play. Or the amount of water on my floor. Even when getting clean they are making a mess. Go figure!

I don’t have much to compare them too, but we constantly joke (only half-way) that we are going to have to start farming in order to keep up with the grocery requirements of our Babes. They are two and four and already eating us out of house and home…and they’re GIRLS.

In the world of WWE, they would be considered Divas, not wrestlers.

Bath Time Wrestlers.

Bath Time Wrestlers.

I prefer wrestlers.

And nudity ain’t just for the boys. If my girls had their way, they would run naked through the house like wild banshees, while shoveling Cheetos down their face and tackling each other. Then they’d kiss and hug and exchange “I love you”s.

My girls play in dirt (one has been known to eat it), they beg to “swing higher”, they climb things just to jump off, they “toot” and laugh- at my dinner table. They are fascinated by firetrucks and choo-choo trains. They are competitive. They are loud. And they are girls.

Dirt.

They are girls…

Which also means that they love Ariel, and Sofia, and Minnie. They love to sing and dance wearing tu-tus. Sometimes only tu-tus. And sometimes tu-tus and every accessory they can find. They love to swaddle baby dolls and rock them to sleep. They love make-up, and nail polish, and anything that sparkles and they walk around in plastic high heels with a toy phone to their ear and a purse over their arm. They’ve got a squeal that’s nearly piercing. I mentioned their competitive nature. Imagine this…squealing competitions. It’s actually a sport in our house.

tutu

They are tender and moody, expressive and opinionated, dramatic, emotional, always right…

And they absolutely hate bugs! They are girls…

I guess the difference in raising girls vs. boys is this:

  • I will never have a daughter-in-law. Weird!
  • I will never have use for a teetee teepee.
  • I will have to learn to share my clothes, purses, shoes, makeup…my husband’s heart.
  • I will save on car insurance. Yipee!
  • But that will be made up plus some with proms and weddings.
  • I must prepare myself for the hormonal teenage years and the likelihood of being temporarily hated.
  • But, after 18 I will have a best friend.
  • I will not be their first love; that title belongs to their Daddy.
  • Speaking of The Daddy- being a Daddy of girls takes a different kind of strength. A gentle kind of strength. Their Daddy’s job is to set the bar for how they think a man should treat them, respect them, and adore them. They learn this by how he treats, respects, and adores their Momma.
  • I will wipe many many many tears.
  • I will fight the length of shorts, skirts, dresses…
  • Friday nights will be spent somewhere other than a football field.
  • I will find glitter in the most unexpected places.
  • I will learn to like pink. Every shade.
  • And I will worry about them until my last breath…but won’t we all?!

 

I am so lucky. Not because I’m a ‘Girl Mom’, but because I am these girls’ Mom.

The Babes.

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