I was supposed to have girls.
Really, I was.
I was supposed to have little pretty princess girly girls who sat still and let me braid their hair, never raised their voices and never acted out. They were going to be clean and well dressed always, they were going to be beautiful!
Ah, I can see them now!
Fast forward a few years to me cursing loudly after stepping on a hot wheel car while chasing my two year old son with a brush trying to get the mashed banana out of his hair...getting him to sit still for this activity is almost impossible, so I guess braiding is out of the question.
How did it come to this?
It all started from the moment I heard the words that I had feared for nine straight months, "ITS A BOY!" Really? Are you sure? Can you check again? Is there any way that the umbilical cord is just down in that area and that any second now you will move it aside and say to me "Oh, just kidding! Its really a girl".
Ok, well, maybe raising a boy won't be that bad. I mean, its all just parenting, right? If I teach my little boy to sit nicely and play quietly then I can still have my dream of a neat and tidy well behaved child. Let me introduce you to Carter...
Carter is a boy's boy. He loves trucks and hates getting his face cleaned. He runs, jumps and yells. He is my worst nightmare...and a dream come true! I love my son.
I am now the mother of two amazing little boys and, surprisingly, I could not be happier! I never thought I'd know the difference between a back hoe and a giant excavator, but I do. I never thought I'd be playing with tools rather than dolls, but I am.
My kids have taught me that you have to take life with a grain of salt. And if that salt happens to have fallen off the glass of my well deserved margarita...then all the better!