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"The kiss that had been for no one else Peter took quite easily.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

The wild-and-rowdy-never-knowing-what-might-happen-next-so-brace-yourself of motherhood hones a unique and indescribable skill set in mothers of boys. Whomever I was before (and I honestly can't remember her) was gone forever when I became a Boy-Mom. Boymom. boyMom. Indescribable, see?

Hours of fretting over physical safety and violent-prone play that ladies just can't relate to and what-if-he-chokes-on-that-cape-in-the-night quietly evolved into observing puzzling, testosterone-fueled tensions between brothers and others and angsty withdrawal and how-can-I-deal-with-being-replaced-as-the-woman-in-his-life-and-what-is-my-role-anyway. These are the parts I will forget and it's getting to be about that time.

A boy will take his time but he only seems like a Forever Boy.

In retrospect, I choose to recall the Sloppy Kissers, the wild-eyed Mud Lovers, the inventive Tall Tale Tellers, the belovedly dingy Shirt Wearers, the Shirtless-Because-We're-Guys Guys, the Reckless Climbers, the Set-up Builders, the Mommy Needers, the Trampoline Jumpers, the Determined Competitors, the Habitat Creators, the Curious Learners, the Warring Soldiers, the Wobbly Bikers, the Earnest Embracers. And the Puppet Show-ers.

These things and more swirl into my mind's eye as I watch young men emerge from the boys who wooed me into womanhood. Swirling and swelling, my heart's capacity is beyond a girl's imagingination and I am content, knowing, if nothing else, I loved fully and was fully loved.

When I see my burgeoning-into-manhood Son walking toward me, tall and handsome, vibrant with the headiness of youth, I am Joy with a lump of Delight in my throat and, in such moments, I'm certain no one has ever beamed brighter.

"Mother of Sons", says my badge of honor. Even when it's invisible.

I just love that.


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