When I wanted a girl and got three boys instead.

All my life I knew I wanted to be a Mom. I went through some periods of my life where I was such a vagabond, party-girl trainwreck work-in-progress that I thought maybe it wasn't going to happen, that maybe I was too unbound, too reckless, too selfish to be a parent. But the untarnished part of my psyche, deep in my soul, wouldn't still the thought of possible motherhood, and when I eventually grew out of that 10 year stage of being a total fuck up young adult development, I found myself with a really good and kind man, in college for my first time, and pregnant. I instantly knew it was a girl. I had a somewhat volatile relationship with my own mother, but regardless, she molded me in every way and in every thing that I knew of what womanhood was about. I couldn't WAIT to raise my very own little feminist. I couldn't WAIT to fix all those areas where my Mom had gone astray, to have that complete melding of two distinct persons, mother and daughter, where I would show my daughter all the amazing things about what it meant to be a woman. This was gonna be good.

On the way to the Ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby, my Hubs gently mentioned how no matter what the sex was, he'd just be relieved and happy to know it was healthy.

WHAT THE FUCK DID HE JUST SAY THAT FOR!? Now if it wasn't my long awaited Féministe, it was totally going to be ALL HIS FAULT because he JINXED IT!!!! Did I mention I may have been just a wee bit hormonal? No? Well, I was. A little. Barely noticeable.

So anyway, there I am, laying on the exam table, freaking pissed off and hatefully glaring at this jerk who I'd have to raise a kid with  waiting anxiously for the tech to come in, and holding my dear hubs' hand for support. She finally comes in...can't get a good look at first. Puts some more shocking cold gel on the wand..and voila! She says, "Do you two want to know the sex?" and we both say YES! She says, "Well, that right there is a penis, see? That little shape right there?"
Time stood still.
Tears happened.
But it was not too horrible, I WAS still having a baby after all! And he was soooooo cute, and waving, and doing cute little flips...and I knew I could try again. So my little girl would have a big brother, even better! He could show her what a good and kind person looks like, could weed out the asshole's when she started dating. This could actually be a very good thing.

When we went for #2's Ultrasound, Hubs knew not to even say anything. I had of course again decided that this was the girl I wanted. She was due December 30th, the day after Lucky had been born!  I had already chosen her name: "Noel". I practically ripped the ultrasound thingy from the girl because she seemed so young and inexperienced. I knew what I was looking for, thankyouverymuch. She finally asked if we wanted to know the sex. YES!!! we practically shouted. It's a BOY!! She squealed back!
Well, shoot. I knew two was our limit. We hadn't really talked about it, but we had gotten pregnant again because I didn't want Lucky to be an only child and to be honest, we knew that we were probably stretched thin enough as it was. So I mourned a little, but called my older sister when I got home and she said, "You know Amanda, it's even more important sometimes to raise the MEN to be feminists." And I realized she was probably right. So I would be the woman in their lives that showed them the way to be a good man, to respect and cherish women for what they were. This was going to be okay. This was good.

Baby #3. Baby #3's existence was confirmed on that little plastic pee stick while Hubs was on his way home from the appointment where he deposited $45 for a Vasectomy. But everything was so different with this pregnancy...TOTALLY different time of year, instead of the end of December she'd be born in July, I was carrying different, none of the same cravings, and the appointment to find out the sex was on my BIRTHDAY,  for the love of GOD! My little girl was in the bag!!! And with two big brothers, to boot! She would be the most epic of all tomboys!!! She would take no shit! She would ROCK.

Except, she was a he. Again. I was so brokenhearted. I confess, I really was. I called my friend on the way home and just cried and cried. Hubs tiptoed around me for days. I know, so selfish and wrong, right? I had been blessed with another perfectly healthy, perfectly loveable and wonderful miracle. I can't justify or explain my feelings, but over the course of the pregnancy, I did get over it. And for Fireball's sake, I thought, thank goodness it's not a girl, because then the transition for him becoming the middle after being "the baby" for such a short time would be even worse. He'd have to compete with a baby, and his Mom's "Rêve" (dream come true) would be a girl.

I just suddenly pictured Sunday mornings in bed, pig piles of boys feet and knees, sticky grape-jelly kisses. Reading them my favorite authors regardless of sex, showing them how to make cookies, do the dishes, fold laundry, BE A MAN.

I had been tasked with the utmost challenge: to raise three decent and honorable men in today's "shock and awe" World, where the concept of masculinity is shoved down boys' throats in the most aggressive and  depressing ways, where being called a "sissy" was worse than a broken bone, because implied feminine characteristics in a man is something to be ashamed of, where the notion of feminine beauty is packaged and sold and shot out of the marketing cannon straight into the hearts of little girls all over to be thin and pretty and demure and NICE, and those who don't fit the mold make themselves sick to the point of death to be considered "desirable". That I would be the one to teach them that true beauty really is inside a person, not in their face or body, when sometimes I struggled to believe that in myself.  That it would fall on me to teach them that No ALWAYS means No, and to look the other way is to aid  the bully or tormenter.  That if they ever see a girl passed out at a party, they need to call me or her parents IMMEDIATELY, and do not leave her alone for one minute. That more important than winning is to keep trying, that more important than being popular is doing the right thing. That a meaningful life takes many forms, and no one ever lay on their deathbed wishing they'd worked more. That all these things that I thought I would be so much better at teaching a daughter, I now try to sprinkle into my three sons' consciousness. And this is gonna be so, so, good.

Day One

Okay, so, hello there, my name is Amanda. I am the Mom to three wonderful, very exhausting little boys, ages 6, 4, and 2. While they are my World, they are not my "whole" life. Mostly I am concerned about raising them to be the kind of men that the World needs, and sometimes I feel like I'm doing a great job, and other times not so much. My boys' father and I have known each other for 17 years, we have "been together" for the past 9, and while we're not "technically" married, I honestly can't think of any other way to describe him other than my Hubs. We'll come back to our marital status at a later time.
When I gave birth to my first son, I had recently sort of parted ways with my few close girlfriends, and while I look back at his (we'll call #1 Lucky) first few months with me as a cozy hibernation of sweet milk breath and quiet sleepiness and calm, it was also pretty lonely and soul baring, as I didn't really have anyone to share those moments with besides hubs and he at the time was working out of town during the week, just home on weekends. I remember being utterly in love but utterly despairing that I couldn't share my new found joy with anyone. I live in a pretty small, isolated little town on a mountain, a good 20 minutes from anything. It was the dead of winter.
Alas, my younger sister told me about Facebook. I had previously been on MySpace but in the emotional debacle which did result in my parting ways with a few close girlfriends, I was not anxious to give social media another try. My sister convinced me otherwise, telling me about how only those I wanted to "find" me could. So I went for it. And I am so glad I did. For a stay-at-home first time Mom, Facebook was a lifeline. A way to share my pride and joy, reach out for advice, plan play dates, ooh and aah over other peoples' kids. And a way to find hilarity in the day to day life of having a 8 lb boy completely change everything I thought I knew about raising a human being. Over time, I have found social media to be such an empowering tool.
Flash forward 2 years and #2 arrived. We call him Fireball. Fireball has made me push the limits of sanity in a very, very, good way. The funny thing is, Fireball was the only one we "planned", and he wakes up everyday with one mission: To dash Mommy's "plans" and force flexibility and disorder into my desperate attempts at routine and order. Where Lucky is laid back and easy-going, Fireball is sensitive, passionate, and FIERY. He's also completely beautiful and completely holds the reigns to my heart.
18 months after Fireball, we welcomed our #3, who I'll call "Stealth Ninja", because while he may be a man of few words, and may seem as silent and innocent as an angel, he is already an extreme adrenaline junkie when it comes to his physical abilities. I'll be making something in the kitchen, turn around, and BAM! There's Stealth Ninja on the counter at eye level, clutching the handle of my coffee, ready to pour! Or like last night, Stealth Ninja tried to slide down between the wall and the top bunk to get to his big brothers. Thank god his manly chest was too big and he got stuck before his head and neck made it through!
Add to this one very bad cat, Schmoopy. That's actually his real name. No alias will do for this King of Assholes. We recently put down 2 very geriatric and sweet Pugs. I miss the floor being clean so much.Schmoopy doesn't eat floor food, and in fact shares his own food with our homes mouse population. Douche.
So that briefly describes my household. Hubs works harder than any man I've ever known, gone at 6 am and rarely home in time for dinner. He's a mans man but a big ol softie at the same time. When he is home, his job for the bedtime routine is to read to the boys. While sometimes I'll hear him yelling at them to "Sit Down! Stop That! You want me to keep reading or not!?" I know he loves every second, and so do they.
My days are spent pretty much just like every other stay at home Mom on the planet. Wake, feed, clean, dress, clean, wipe, change, feed, clean, console, referee, feed, yell, laugh, try not to cry, wish for bedtime, wish for nap time, wish for quiet, clean, fold, put away, feed, clean, dress, bed, Facebook, laugh, wine, laugh sleep, repeat. My life is full of other things too, as you will see. I am very concerned about the state of affairs in this Country and on this Planet. I struggle daily with feelings of helplessness and despair, alternating with rage and incredulity. I try to show my boys' that there is no better way than to get involved if you see injustice of any kind. I hope I am able to raise three men who never look the other way.
So, like I said, my kids are not my "whole" life, but I think in a way, they are the catalyst of my life. They are my tools for the betterment of myself and the World I see around me. Most days are a blur to be honest, the combination of their ages, energy, and noise level have a most disorienting effect. But I know I've really only just begun, this is still the "easy" part I suppose. So wish me luck, and tune in as I bring you blow-by-blow details on just

what the hell I think I'm doing.