Those are my singing boys

The other Sunday was Children’s Day at the Lutheran preschool/kindergarten Sean goes to.  Like a good family, we went because Tornado S was singing and it’s a lot of fun after the service with snacks, crafts, and a bounce house.  If more churches had bounce houses after services, more people would go.

It was a nice service.  The children came in singing.  We were smooshed because Tornado E refused to sit further away from me, and then we didn’t have enough room for Tornado S when he came.  Tornado A sat in the aisle looking through books.  I wanted tell the new parents, across the aisle, with the babbling baby that it was ok.  She was quite the talker.  But the best part came half way through the services when the congregation had to sing “Jesus Loves Me.”

Tornado E and Tornado S belted out the song.  It was the first time I had ever heard them sing together.  I was filled with gratitude and love.  I began to cry a little.

I cried because I was so lucky to raise these boys.  I’m lucky to see them every day and be with them.  I get to hear about their days and thoughts.  I get to watch them grow and do amazing things.  I get to see them try new things and do silly things.  I get to read them bedtime stories and tuck them in at night.  I get to know them and help shape them into the good guys.  I cried because I know one day I’ll have to share custody and I won’t see them every day.  I will miss them when they aren’t being loud and funny and annoying.  My house will be quiet and empty.  As tough as it is to have the boys 24/7, to always be on the clock, they are my boys, and I prefer them with me.

The boys sang every word at the top of their lungs.  Every tear I tried to wipe away secretly.  Only it turned out the boys were louder than anyone else in the church, so people were looking around for them and would smile at the boys.  And of course, they saw me crying.  Also a little blonde toddler jumping up and down next to his brothers.

Since everyone saw me cry, several woman, walking down the aisle for communion, squeezed my shoulder and asked if I was all right.  After church, several women came up to me after church and asked me how I was and told me how wonderful my boys were.  One of my friends came up to me and asked, “Were you crying because it was so funny or because you were sad?”  Honestly, both.  She gave me a hug and said, “I wanted to go over and do this since the song.”

I’m so lucky to be the mother of these smart, funny, crazy, silly guys.  Even with the nagging, yelling, scolding, eye rolling, heaven-help-me’s, stomping, growling, yanking, are-you-kidding-me’s.  They’re my boys.  And I love them.

Now I’m off to nag them back to homework and give them hugs.

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