Seven years ago I was pregnant with him. I remember it well. His little body was nestled closely against my bladder and sciatic nerve. He was constantly on my nerve. Literally. But I didn’t mind. This strained physical time in my life allowed me time to reflect and rest while my body continued to create and mold his. It also afforded me great quality time with his older brother whom he would soon meet. Today, I live in a world of boys. You won’t find anything pink in my home with the exception of two shirts and a down vest from the Gap that hang in my closet. My boys play Legos and jump ramps with their bikes. They empty the Oklahoma red dirt from their shoes onto my hickory hard wood floors and seem to be in a constant state of hunger. At the same time these boys of mine are beginning to become young men. They use words like apparently and inappropriate and appreciate and initiative. These young men of mine are beginning to think of the feelings of others instead of just wondering about themselves. Young men who are truly learning that we receive far more when we give. Young men who are getting more acquainted with their God. Young men who are treating their momma like I hope they will one day treat their wives. It’s rewarding to see progress in the lives of your children even if it’s a baby step here and there. Don’t give up, moms. Do the hard stuff. Make the decisions that are best for them even if they complain. It will eventually pay off. I promise.