Two of these children are my boys. The other two are my men. Here I am almost 46 years old and it is still hard to convince myself that I have children that are adults. The age spread has made it interesting, not that it was totally planned. Bookends. That's what we call our children sometimes. Two sons, six years, two more.
I always thought, when I was old to enough to start thinking about being a mom someday, that I would have six sons. There was never any surprise when the ultrasound technician said it was a boy. Never. Not once. No girls ever entered my mental picture of my family. But that 6-year gap has always kind of baffled me. We were just settling down after five years of grad school in LA, and our first little guys were 5 and 3 when we came to Utah and bought our first little home. We were learning how to be stable. How to have our very own place, with our very own backyard, and our very own washer and dryer, and our very own mortgage. And God had us wait. So wait we did.
Then when a couple of more years had passed, along came the last two. I have been a different kind of mom with these two. Just a little. More kicked back, but at the same time more direct. A little more age and a few more life experiences will do that.
I love. I am loved back.