This is a little story about being a mom. A boy's mom.
Thanks to meeting Cearra when she was just 3, I've been blessed to have the experience of helping to raise a daughter. I'd enjoyed the "girly" aspects - princess games and dress-up, manicures and shopping trips - as well as (I hope) being able to offer her wisdom and guidance from a female perspective throughout the years.
However I'd long known I wanted to raise a son too. While never a tomboy growing up, I wasn't big on dolls either, and thought I'd like the kind of play little boys enjoy. I'd also always really enjoyed the kind of puppyish energy most toddler boys radiate. Indeed, I was right; Owen and I spent many happy hours driving toy trucks, tractors and cars in circles (and collisions) on the carpet, and making block towers collapse. I like being outside with him, throwing the ball around or even rescuing worms from the driveway. I loved being a baseball/basketball/soccer mom (not of course that girls can't and don't do all these things). Yes, having a son has been as wonderful as I anticipated and I'm looking forward to continuing to do my best to raise him into a good man.
But I have to admit, as we drove home late Wednesday night from the WWE event (that's professional wrestling for those of you "unlucky" enough not to know) Bob and I took Owen to as a Christmas gift, I had to muse on some of the events I've attended as a boy's mom.
Combine demolition derbies, antique tractor shows, monster truck jams, and now the over-the-top antics of big men in tights. There are times I'd love a nice Disney on Ice show.
Still, there's no greater happiness than watching your child watch something they love. As Owen stood to pump his arms in the Lucha Dragons cheer and looked on in awe as Roman Reigns retained his heavyweight title with a two table-crashing performance against Sheamus, there was no place else I wanted to be.
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"Mom, I didn't smile on purpose, because
you know, it's wrestling" |
