During those times when I thought I was a girl, I had this itsy-bitsy idea that having a daughter would be the most wonderful thing that could ever happen to a parent. I wanted to have someone to dress up with, do different hairstyles, and share stuff that most girls do. When I got pregnant with my first child, Paolo, and learned that it was a boy, I was a bit disappointed. But then, no one told me that having a boy was a completely different world. It was all adventure and fun.
When I had my second boy, Aaron, four years after, I was already a professional storyteller, wrestler, repair-mom, hero, joker, buddy, playmate, juggler, nanny, teacher and working-mom. Having the second boy was a cinch. I was practically just sliding through everything when other moms were busy pulling their hair off. Everything was an exciting activity, from trying to dodge empty milk bottles, to skirting through tiny pieces of lego, to sidestepping those small things that go Vroom, to puddle-stomping, to playing in the rain. I just find everything thrilling that I had completely forgotten about dolls, and hairstyles, and pink dresses and my wish for that little girl with wisps of black hair escaping her pony tail.
When I had my third boy, Gabriel, after a year and a half, I had already developed a love for everything boyish that I even wished I could be a boy. LOL. It was then that I realized that God had given me boys so that I would discover my true nature. My boys became my strength in unfolding my real self and I became their guide in molding themselves. I am no longer disappointed for not having a daughter; I am satisfyingly full of pride in having three young men who have all added something amazing to my life since the day they were born.
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