Very early on on my mommy career, I remember seeing something scrapbookish trumpeting the sentiment that little boys are essentially "noises with dirt on them".

"Humph!" I muttered over my small, pink and ruffled, golden-haired bundle,"How sexist! There really can't be that much difference between boys and girls!" After all, I had been the oldest of three girls, and had very much enjoyed dirt and noise, camping and sports.

Little did I know that I would very soon have the chance to find out. Less than a year later, my husband would breathlessly announce to me, "We have a BOY!" And "boy", would my perspective change.

My boys both chose noises (cars "vrooming" and crashing) over actual words for their early vocabulary.

They never walked when they could bounce, stomp, jump, or crash (actually, they still rarely walk). Hugs often take on the form of tackles (especially if the hugs are directed at a brother).

They get dirty--track mud across the house, smell like puppies, leave thick grime ring in the tub dirty. My oldest son also seems to take pride in just how gross he can get--and after hearing my (high school senior)nephew boast about his post-soccer game "ripeness" last week, I'm not holding out for a change in this trend.

Clothing (or it's state if cleanliness/repair) is not a high priority for my guys--although I do see from my older nephew that this might change. A clerk in a clothing store once snootily pointed out to me that I had purchased three pair of identical denim shorts for my son. I told him that since shorts and t-shirts were basically the staple of said child's wardrobe at the time, this way I held out some faint hope that the shorts would occasionally land it the wash. I'll spare you the gory laundry tales from abandoned sports bags.

Now the mom of two girls and two boys, I'm using by blog to publicly repent of my young-mommy arrogance. As equitably as we try to raise them, boys and girls are different. It's not that my boys won't learn how to do housework (they are), or my girls won't be able to use power tools (they will); it's that they were assigned to grow up and perform complimentary roles. I've learned to delight in God's amazing design for my sons and my daughters--as individuals and as future men and women, husbands and wives, daddies and mommies.

While I love all of my children fiercely, madly, and protectively, my boys have a unique ability to stir in my heart the wildest, most primal tenderness. Perhaps because I know that someday, they'll belong to another woman (insert cheesy adage here: "A son's a son 'til he takes a wife..."or the very real Biblical call to leave and cleave). Perhaps it's because their displays of affection are quieter and more rare that that of their sisters (In fact, I think my 2 year old gave me an unsolicited kiss for the first time in his life yesterday). I don't know...but my time to ponder is pretty short right now.

I have a small, scrambled egg and yogurt coated someone standing next to me loudly quoting Elmo and demanding a diaper change and a cuddle.



P.S. Everyday Mommy is sponsoring a contest for a book I think one of my "noises with dirt on them" would like...today is the last day, so hurry up and get your entries in!

Hat tip to Rebekah for the heads up on the contest.