This is Me: Mama of a Boy Tribe | Intuition Design Photography | Mankato Family Photographer

Documentary Session: Mama of a Boy Tribe

The other day my husband ask me "how are you going yo survive raising this much testosterone?" Most days I don't have a friggin clue. They confuse me and astound me at the same time. And right now they're still into smothering me. Sitting right under my arm, leaning into me, getting as close as possible.

Being a mama of a boy tribe (Bubba 5, Stink 3, and Tiger 10 months) can be lonely at times and daily incites confusion on my cranium that is already well addled with mommy brain.

Bubba: MOMMM!!! Stink has TWO pair of shorts on!

Me: Why does it matter? Is it affecting you?

Hubs: Why does he...??

Me (eyebrow raised, eyeing Stink's cheeky grin): Is there ever an reason why?

It's a serious question. But I never expect a real answer. But I regress. 

Documentary Session: Mama of a Boy Tribe

Because being a mama of a boy tribe is wild, full of motion, noise, exuberance,  dramatic endings and trying not to cringe when Stink yells "MOMMMMY Bubba is killing me dead!!!" 

There are times when I am a lone island of common sense. Not saying that boys don't have common sense, but being the mama of a boy tribe has taught me that their common sense is more likely just a different train of thought. Not wrong, but definitely something I, as female, had never considered before. 

Documentary Session: Mama of a Boy Tribe

But honestly. There is nothing like being loved by a boy tribe. I will never tire of the "Your my bestest mommy ever." And though it seems improbable that I would want homemade cards that ALWAYS include race cars in lieu of hearts and flowers, my cards wouldn't mean as much without them.

Documentary Session: Mama of a Boy Tribe

And the hugs. I am not saying girl hugs can't compete, but I've been getting boy hugs for almost six years. And I admit, I may be biased. But they hug with their whole beings. Whether its my legs, my tummy, and yes even my face. They wrap all of themselves around me. Arms, legs, bodies. And then it turns into a game, that the only way I can win is to tickle them until they screech. 

Then they'll take my face in their hands squish it around a bit, laugh, and drop a kiss on my lips. "I love you mommy." And then they're off again on some kind of adventure or looking for the other to pick on. Leaving me in a puddle of love.

And that is a feeling I am holding onto fast in my heart.