There are numerous articles out there that tell us not to enforce gender stereotypes upon our children. Offer them gender neutral toys. Let boys wear pink and girls dress as superheros. It’s fine if a boy wants to play with a doll, and a girl wants to run around with a transformer. I agree with all this. I am all for equality. But…
I am a mum of two boys. They delight me, they make me laugh, they drive me crazy, and they give me the best cuddles. But in a house full of testosterone I am outnumbered, and more often than not perplexed by these strange species of creatures so different to me.
Girls and boys are fundamentally different. It’s in there make-up. I started noticing the differences when the big one was tiny. I would watch the baby girls at toddler groups, happy and content to sit on their mums knees. I would have had more luck holding onto an eel, as my son wriggled himself free from my lap, preferring to sit on the floor and eat random raisins that had been there for I don’t know how long (at least I hope it was raisins).
I don’t believe that girls are easier. We all have are parenting challenges regardless of gender. But despite not allowing my son to have toy guns he turns everything he plays with into a weapon. Despite my numerous attempts to get him to watch Frozen with me, he firmly clamps his hands over his ears and shouts “Arrrrgghhhhh” whenever I burst into a rendition of ‘Let it go’. Although that my say more about my singing than his gender preferences.
I see the girls in the playground at school singing, dancing and quietly sat talking. My son and his peers prefer to run around shouting things like “poo-head” really loudly.
So here are my 5 Difference between the men in my life, and me:
Please note that if you are not a fan of sweeping gender stereotypes you might want to look away now. If you are up for a bit of lighthearted fun, then please continue reading.
1 Toilet Habits
I will never ever understand why it takes the husband a minimum of 20 minutes to drop the kids off at the pool, so to speak. Do you know what I can do alone in the bathroom in 20 minutes? I could shower, wash my hair, condition my hair, condition it again because I will forget whether I have already done it, shave both legs and at least one armpit, give the basin and toilet a quick scrub, and yes, have a poo.
Alarmingly the smaller males in my house are showing the early signs of the 20 minute poo. The big one will state that he is going for ‘a poo and a think’ and off he will disappear for 10 minutes. The only difference between him and the husband (apart from keeping the door wide open) is that the big one does not have the ability to keep a single thought to himself. They are all said out loud, loudly for all to hear, including the running commentary of his bowel movements. The little one is still in nappies, but already insists on ‘reading’ a book whilst having his derriere wiped clean. I can only apologise to all future WAGS.
(I know, this is a really high brow post) I am the only person in my house that doesn’t find farting funny. And when I say funny, I mean can’t-breathe-from-laughing-so-hard kind of funny.
Only the other day we were having dinner when the little one let rip in his high chair, much to his own amusement, which in turn made the big one laugh. No sooner had the laughter subsided the big one belched. He did say pardon, but I’m not sure it counts when you can barely get the words out because you are laughing so hard. Seriously, I live in a zoo. And if you think that farts in a bath don’t smell, you are wrong. *Gags.
I’m a fan of leisurely pursuits. Reading, movies, gentle strolls. But now? Everything in my life appears to be a race. First one upstairs is the winner. Last one to get their coat on smells like poo.
My boys have a fiercely competitive nature. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I hope it will get them far in life. The problem is they are really bad losers. “I’m never going to talk to you again” door slamming and tears, kind of bad losers. And me? I’m the one stuck in the middle trying to smooth things over, and reason with small people incapable of logic. An FA cup referee has an easier job.
The husband insists there are only 5 colours. Red, yellow, blue, green, black and white. Occasionally he will admit to purple. The rest are all colours females have made up to confuse the male species. It is hopeless to send him looking for something that has a colour in the description. We have had actual arguments over a blue tie. It’s teal.
At three years old I could have dressed the big one in a pink tu-tu and he couldn’t have cared less. At six years old he believes pink is evil and anything remotely pink should be destroyed. Unless it’s cake. Pink cakes are fine.
There are a lot of things in my house with wheels on. Cars are a huge part of the boys life. The little one’s favourite pass time is racing cars up and down our hallway. Lightning McQueen is part of our family. At three years old the big one could walk down the road and tell you the make of every car. He knows relatives by what car they drive. I struggle to remember what car I drive myself.
I can tell you what colour it is though.
Two of the other species I live with.
I guess life would be boring if we were all the same.
Do members of the opposite sex confuse you? Are you outnumbered and out witted as a result in your household?
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