My boys...

I always wanted to be a mom. Even more than that, I wanted to be a mom of boys. And I figured that was a tall order (on one side of my family there are 8 girl cousins in a row - boy number 1 is finally due in June). So when Max made himself well known, we were thrilled. (Ok, Dan really didn't care, but I was thrilled.) And when Luke made it clear that I was going to have son number two, I couldn't have been happier.

I get a lot of comments from friends and family asking if I wish we had a girl. And every RARE once in a while, I wonder what that would be like. But I love my boys. I love the rough and tumble nature of Max, and the volume and adventures yet to come. I am ready to purchase my frequent flier card to our local emergency room and buy stock in band-aids. I find myself already making statements like, "Honey, penises need to stay in our pants" and reminding our firstborn that we don't put food up our nose. I expect that my life will be full of all things wheeled, a fascination with the gross, and knowledge of explosives. And I can't wait.

But every once in a while, like this recent afternoon, my life is also filled with this:



















And this:

















Boys aren't always loud and crazy and rough. And being the queen of this castle is the perfect gig for me.