Monday, February 22, 2010

Boy Mom

I grew up one of five sisters with one poor badgered brother stuck in the middle. Our house was full of girl stuff: ear-splitting squeals, Barbies, smocked dresses, Little House on the Prairie books, the more-than-occasional cat fight over bathroom space, and baby dolls everywhere. On some level I always expected that when I had children, they would be girls. I'm one -- and I like it! I looked forward to shoe shopping with my daughters, reading Anne of Green Gables together, getting their ears pierced, and guiding them through the intricate set of rules about how and when to wear white.

So I was pretty surprised six years ago, after some initial confusion in the delivery room, to find myself a "Boy Mom." And two years later, a Double Boy Mom. In a turn of events that my younger self probably wouldn't quite believe, I have found that I love it. In fact, when I was inducted into the "Girl Mom" club about 21 months ago, I couldn't quite remember what to do with a girl! (Libby has worn the uneven pigtails to prove it.) I love the boys' straightforwardness. I loved seeing my younger boys' little round selves clad in overalls. I love the absence of those high-pitched shrieks that only little girls can produce. I love that I no longer flinch when a small person dangling from a precarious spot wobbles and rights himself just in time. And I love the education I have received just by living life with my boys.

The things I never knew I never knew:

Mace Windu is the only Star Wars character with a purple light saber.

2 brothers + 1 toilet = tinkle lasers. (I really didn't want to know. You don't, either.)

How to spell, pronounce, and identify "Xenotarsosaurus," "Coelophysis," "Yingshanosaurus," and "Parasaurolophus."

The difference between a Velociraptor and a Tyrannosaurus Rex. (I could spot it in my sleep.)

Nothing trumps a bare bottom for high humor. Pants will be unashamedly dropped anywhere, anytime, and it will be the funniest thing that EVER happened.

How to tell a bulldozer from a backhoe. (Andrew, then three years old, had to labor intensively to get this one through to me.)

The blue cup is the best one. Whoever doesn't have it might as well be drinking dirt.

Keeping an empty water bottle in the car on long trips is of the utmost importance.

Even the unlikeliest of objects can become a gun or light saber. Just add the following sound effects: pyow pyow pyow pyow or zhoom zhoom.

Nothing mesmerizes like a fire truck...except roadkill.

3 comments:

  1. I will admit that I, too, am a little nervous about being a "boy mom". Hopefully I adapt to it as well as you did!

    -Annie

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  2. I remember those days. I will also add that with boys you pick up worms (gross) and touch boa constrictors because "boys want to do this but they won't unless you do it first". And then there's the, "Oh mom, I almost forgot. I found this on the way home from school." and they reach in their pocket and pull out a live toad. My comment to him was, "I am so glad you remembered the toad was in your pocket." (Ask Steve if he remembers this.)

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