I live with 2 little boys and one now-grown-up man.  We also have a boy dog.  Life with boys is messy.  I mean little dirty socks, sticky hands, stained clothes and sweaty bodies kind of messy.  My littlest boy, Finnian, loves mess.  He likes playing in the dirt and he loves spraying water all over everything.  When water and dirt collide, he's in heaven.

At least in our house, life with boys is also naked.  For them clothes, except for costumes and a few favorite pairs of pj's, are a nuisance to really good relaxing and playing.  I, personally, do not agree but it seems I am out voted.

Life with my guys is silly.  Case and point...a few weeks back, while in the car, Steven had the boys in hysterics when he kept saying "I love you Mommy" to me in burps.

 Sometimes the naked, the silly and the messy all come together too.

There are some days when it all gets to be a little much.  The boys are being too messy, getting destructive, being silly and being rough.  Those are the times when I fantasize about little girls playing with dollhouses, cutting out delicate paper dolls, and wearing pretty dresses.  That is also the perfect time for me to take off and spend a few hours wandering around Nordstrom, shopping, taking in the details and feeling girly.  I'm not super girly really.  I mean I did wear purple combat boots to my prom.  So sometimes I think I was meant to have boys and that somehow I am way better matched in the land of burps and mud.

The best thing about boys, though, is that just when the mess seems way too messy and the burps aren't that funny anymore, they show you that super soft, velvety smooth boy underbelly.  They have this amazing capacity for simple and true love.  I'm sure little girls do too but I wouldn't know as much about it.  These little guys love me in the most unconditional way.  It's beyond perfect.  For me, I have never loved anyone the way that I love them.  It is the most vulnerable that I have ever been.

Every night, before I go to bed, I check on them.  I take books out from underneath them, adjust the sheets, take about 10 of the 20 stuffed animals out of the bed, whisper sweet nothings into their ears, kiss them and turn off the night lights.  Looking at them while they sleep always erases the hard parts of the day.  They could have been terrible that day but in the glow of the night lights, freshly bathed, in clean superhero pj's and all nestled in their beds they only look like angels to me.  I wonder what did I ever do to be given such an amazing gift?