Mother and Daughter

I wrote the post below, posted it...  then felt like I needed to come back and add a disclaimer.  I've had this nagging feeling that I've given the impression that I am somehow dissatisfied with my wonderful boys...  nothing could be further than the truth.  I am not just okay with having three little men, I love it.  I relish it.  I breathe it in, eat it up, roll around in it, and thank God for blessing me so richly.  I would not trade these toy swords and cowboy hats for anything in the world.  That being said...  read on, Gentle Reader.

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This is the last installment of Cousinpalooza.  And I think my favorite.

You would think that hanging out with a fourteen year old girl for a solid week would make me run for the hills.  Thank my lucky house-full-of boys stars.  (And I do thank my house full-of-boys stars, as you well know Gentle Reader.)

But it didn't.

It did something else.

Something very unexpected.

It made me ache deep down in a place I didn't know I had.

Much deeper than the place that gives me pangs in the girls' department of Gymboree.

Way, way, down deep.

Who would have thought that 7 days with a teenage girl would do that?

Don't tell my husband.  I don't think he can handle it.

If only there were some way to have a little girl, and be guaranteed that she would grow up as sweet and lovely as Victoria...  And somehow I could skip pregnancy, labor, and delivery.  (and those freaking after-pains...  That's enough to kill the whole deal.)  And if somehow she could come with a trust fund to pay her way through piano lessons, ballet class, and college.

Until I can figure out a way to make all that happen, I'll settle for Victoria.  And pray that my boys marry nice girls.  (Ones that won't fight me for creative control of the band.)

The part that really killed me, made me want to laugh, and dance, and cry, and sing, and go to sleep all at the same time, was the relationship between them.  Sometimes they seem almost more like sisters.  

Aren't they beautiful?

Sigh...

I know.