I have four sons. I have had a child at home with me for 12.5 years now. They say the days are long and the years are short. But with four boys born in seven years, there were a few years there that moved slowly.
It feels like a blur of superheroes, in my house, in my car, and often, in my bed.
Next year, my youngest son starts primary school. My boys are now aged five, seven, 10, and 12.
I am technically in the golden years. Out of the nappies, the toddler stage, and the sleepless nights, and not yet into the peril of teenagers.
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Although I am so excited for the next chapter of our lives, I feel nostalgic. I feel like the days with Batman in my backseat are suddenly, without warning, slipping away. I am excited for the next chapter and yet I think the day we pass on the costumes to another gorgeous little boy will break my heart.
Many people often make assumptions about what my life must be like as a mum of four boys, however, I think what we think we know about boys isn’t the full story.
If you search articles on "10 things I know about being a mum of boys", here’s what you’re likely to find: mess, movement, rumbling, fighting, damage to your home, pee on the toilet floor, and farts. Lots of farts.
And while I relate to some of the above, I reckon it’s missing the point.
Boys are huge hearted, divine creatures, who are soft and loving. And the secret to understanding just how big-hearted they are lies in understanding the way they play.
Lots of boys want to be heroes: the one who does right, saves the day, and saves the world.