I may have grown up with a brother only 22 months older than me, but that did not automatically make me an expert on the male gender and psyche. This became very clear the day I gave birth to my first boy child and realized I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Not just when it came to the parts I, as a woman, do not have, but when it came to… well… pretty much everything else, too.
It’s not just snip, snails, and puppy dog tails. The definition of “boy” is not just “noise with dirt on it”- they’re more complicated than that. Or if complicated doesn’t seem like the right word, perhaps CONFUSING will make sense.
What I really mean is that the advice I got to “let boys be boys!” and “they’re stinkier than girls” didn’t really cut it.
This isn’t where I’m going to pretend to be the Boy Guru after squeezing two out of my baby chute and claim to know everything. No. Ohhh heeeeeeeeeell no! I feel lucky to have survived 7 years, and feel that I should impart upon other moms of boys the knowledge that brought me this far. Or luck. It could be luck. Dumb ass luck.
The following “tips”, which aren’t really tips and are really more of the big DUHHHHH moments I have had that would have been nice to avoid, should help you navigate through boydom with fewer exclamations of “WHAT IN THE FUCKITY FUCK??”
1. AIM DOWN
If you have never in your life had a penis, or a child with a penis, or been a nurse where you had to deal with a penis on a regular basis… hell, even if you’re a hooker- you likely don’t know as much about wieners as you think you do. If you think you know NOTHING about them, you probably know even less! Day one, you will be changing diapers. The advice I give you for that day will be the same as the advice I have for when they are finally peeing in a toilet- AIM DOWN. I’m not kidding. Aim that doodle down, and yes YOU will have to help, or get you and everything you love covered in baby pee. Aim it down. And be prepared to repeat that about 45,000 times over the next 5 or so years.
2. Vaginas are weird.
They are weird, and ugly, and horrifying. Not just yours. ALL of them. As soon as they get old enough to notice a difference, expect them to ask. A lot. And don’t feel bad about your scary vag. Embrace the fear and immunity to the power of the V while it lasts!
3. Not EVERY boy is a “Mama’s Boy”
This one still stings every day. I always wanted a girl. Just ONE girl. I figured since the universe plopped two boys in my lap, they would at least give me a reprieve and make these two kids the biggest mama’s boys on the planet. No, I wouldn’t have the Gilmore Girls bond I so longed for, but I’d have two boys who thought I was their entire universe. WIN! Wrong.
Maybe it’s because I’m a stay at home parent and they see me all the time, so I’m not exactly a hot commodity, but it seems as though they thought being in my uterus was enough one-on-one time with Mommy, and stick to their father like flies on shit.
4. They don’t HAVE to play sports
I realize it’s an essential part of learning to play on a team, but just as not all females want to be in pageants or play with barbies, not all boys are interested in blowing shit up and playing sports…. even though blowing shit up is pretty cool. For years, I beat myself up for not enrolling them into the community sports leagues, but over time I realized they never even asked. Weren’t interested. They are very art oriented, and that’s okay! It’s also okay if the day comes where they WANT to put on helmets and smash into each other. I mean it’s okay that they want to, I didn’t say *I* would be okay with it! Don’t let their gender determine their interests. Let THEM!
5. They aren’t better or worse than girls
Honestly, other than private parts, they’re pretty much the same! I went in thinking boys were going to be foul, nasty, grotesque little things- but I got the kid who used to cry when dirt touched his hands and could put a teenage girl’s dramatics to shame. Yeah, they stink. They fart and burp and occasionally I catch them eating boogers- but girls do that shit, too! I’ve found some of the most frustrating parts about my kids are the parts that have nothing to do with their gender. That shit is frustrating, too, because I can’t just blame it on the wiener or on my husband! Damnit!
If you have a boy, your house won’t necessarily be covered in dirt. If you have a girl, she might hate Disney princesses and refuse to wear pink. Pink was my mortal enemy growing up, and I could put both of my boys to shame with how nasty I was.
Don’t worry if you see that baby come flying out of you packing a doodle and berries. Don’t worry if you hate sports, or monster trucks, or video games. Kids are going to beat the willpower out of you anyway, so worrying is just more wasted time you could be spent wishing you were sleeping.