Envy Me… I Have Boys!
I was at the doctor’s with my both kids this week. As we are sitting in the lobby, waiting to be called upon, the door of the doctor’s office opens and out come two cutest little girls I’ve ever seen. The little one was two years old at most and she had the most adorable smile. She kept smiling at ChinchillaBoy, and he was smiling back. The older one was four or five years old, and was very serious. Her little sister kept picking up toys and carrying them over to a table in the middle of the room, to play with them; and the big sister kept taking the toys away from the baby, and, with the stern look on her face, carrying them back to their original places. The baby reacted by frowning, saying “NO!”, and going back to retrieve the toys again. It was all very cool. Then the tired, harassed mother came out. She rolled her eyes at the girls, took them both by their hands, and led them out the door. The baby didn’t want to go, so I waved at her and said, “Bye!” and then she went. As the mother was leaving, she turns to me and says, “You are lucky to have boys”.
She left, and I stayed… with my jaw on the floor. In my thirteen (almost) years of being a mother of boys, nobody has ever said this to me. No one! In fact, when my kids were babies and toddlers, I used to avoid conversations with moms of little girls, because they always had to rub it in. “Mine has been sleeping through the night since she was born. What do you mean yours still doesn’t?” “He ran away? Why, mine just sits quietly wherever I tell her to sit and plays with her dolls.” “Does your son like homework? My daughter loves homework.” And so on and so forth, until the little girl hits adolescence, and then all of a sudden the roles are reversed – moms of teenage girls are losing their sleep and pulling their hair out, and my boys are as well-behaved as can be. I like to call it Mother Nature’s revenge.
But, the mom at the doctor’s office was actually implying that little boys are easier to raise than little girls. Could that be right? Yes. Here’s why:
1) Barbies. ‘Nuff said.
2) When boys disagree with each other, they just exchange a few punches, get it out of their system, and become best friends again. Whereas girls will be mad at each other for weeks, plotting behind one another’s back.
3) Boys don’t really care about clothes, name brands, makeup etc. In fact, they will wear anything as long as it isn’t pink. Saves a lot of time and money.
4) Parties and sleepovers. I’m being told that, if you get a group of excited little girls together, they will scream their heads off, and that, I’m told, can get really annoying.
5) I am the only female in the family. Everybody gives me breaks, tells me how hard it must be for me, and carries heavy stuff for me.
At the same time, I think mothers of girls are lucky too. Here’s why:
1) Shooter videogames. ‘Nuff said.
2) When girls disagree with each other, they talk about it and work out their differences, while boys always have to beat each other to a pulp.
3) Girls don’t miss the toilet every friggin time and then explain it by saying, “But, Mom, I can’t help it, I have morning wood!”
4) Parties and sleepovers. A group of little boys can be easily used as a weapon of mass destruction. We had a birthday party once where our little guests managed to rip a 200-pound punching bag out of the ceiling.
5) I am the only female in the family. Nobody understands me. When I hunt down a pair of cool new shoes, there’s no one to admire them with me, unless you count a “Gee, Mom, do you really need another pair?” as admiration.
So, I don’t know. It looks like, after all, nobody wins. But there’s still one thing we can do.
We can lie shamelessly about how perfect our children are, and watch the other side cringe with envy. Sounds like a good plan to me.
She left, and I stayed… with my jaw on the floor. In my thirteen (almost) years of being a mother of boys, nobody has ever said this to me. No one! In fact, when my kids were babies and toddlers, I used to avoid conversations with moms of little girls, because they always had to rub it in. “Mine has been sleeping through the night since she was born. What do you mean yours still doesn’t?” “He ran away? Why, mine just sits quietly wherever I tell her to sit and plays with her dolls.” “Does your son like homework? My daughter loves homework.” And so on and so forth, until the little girl hits adolescence, and then all of a sudden the roles are reversed – moms of teenage girls are losing their sleep and pulling their hair out, and my boys are as well-behaved as can be. I like to call it Mother Nature’s revenge.
But, the mom at the doctor’s office was actually implying that little boys are easier to raise than little girls. Could that be right? Yes. Here’s why:
1) Barbies. ‘Nuff said.
2) When boys disagree with each other, they just exchange a few punches, get it out of their system, and become best friends again. Whereas girls will be mad at each other for weeks, plotting behind one another’s back.
3) Boys don’t really care about clothes, name brands, makeup etc. In fact, they will wear anything as long as it isn’t pink. Saves a lot of time and money.
4) Parties and sleepovers. I’m being told that, if you get a group of excited little girls together, they will scream their heads off, and that, I’m told, can get really annoying.
5) I am the only female in the family. Everybody gives me breaks, tells me how hard it must be for me, and carries heavy stuff for me.
At the same time, I think mothers of girls are lucky too. Here’s why:
1) Shooter videogames. ‘Nuff said.
2) When girls disagree with each other, they talk about it and work out their differences, while boys always have to beat each other to a pulp.
3) Girls don’t miss the toilet every friggin time and then explain it by saying, “But, Mom, I can’t help it, I have morning wood!”
4) Parties and sleepovers. A group of little boys can be easily used as a weapon of mass destruction. We had a birthday party once where our little guests managed to rip a 200-pound punching bag out of the ceiling.
5) I am the only female in the family. Nobody understands me. When I hunt down a pair of cool new shoes, there’s no one to admire them with me, unless you count a “Gee, Mom, do you really need another pair?” as admiration.
So, I don’t know. It looks like, after all, nobody wins. But there’s still one thing we can do.
We can lie shamelessly about how perfect our children are, and watch the other side cringe with envy. Sounds like a good plan to me.
