I must admit- I love my boys. They don't think like women, act like women, or smell like women. Sometimes I find myself just standing there, scratching my head, going, 'Hmmm...' after they've said something. Sometimes they make me cry. Sometimes I cringe at their words. Everything is a weapon. Or a new way to use my old things. Or a springboard for a new idea. Or a battle to be won. They make weird noises. They eat all the meat out of the stew before the rest of us can get there (kind of like leaving all the peanuts -yuck- at the bottom of the trail mix bag). They don't care if their beds are made. Ever. They like to hit each other. They are like roosters in my barnyard, messing with my ways. They are like steam engines barging through the house, letting us all know they are comin' through. They get grumpy and hibernate, then emerge later like nothing happened. And yet, my boys are some of the most interesting, thoughtful, teachable, creative people I know. They have a strength and a raw honesty that can be refreshing. They look to the future and wonder what they can do to make it better. They pray for people who need something from God. They know He is real, and they walk with Him. They get over (most) things much better than us GIRLS! And best of all, they think I'm a great Mom. So long as they have hot food and fresh laundry and I don't make them clean too much.
Yep, I love my boys. And that includes you, dear husband.
Sammy, with his buddies.
Danny, King of the Grill
Joey, canoeing at Cherry Creek Reservoir
Thomas being goofy with his food.
Yummy Baby Michael Jude
Natty, eating one of MANY sugar cookies.