I grew up among girls. My dad being the only person of the male gender in our household. Even my pets were all females. When my son was born I remember thinking “What on earth am I supposed to do with a boy?”
The first diaper change. Yikes. Which about sums up how it went. And the first time I got pee’d on during a change? Never again did I open a diaper without something to shield myself from another accident. Live and learn.
The first time he questioned me about his penis (seriously I just can not type wee-wee, member, johnson, WHATEVER.) was at bath time. He was sitting in the tub and started to fiddle with himself. He asked me why it stands up sometimes. Uh. Pause. “HUBBY?!?!?!?!? Your son has a question for you!!” I bolted out of the room mostly because I didn’t want to laugh about it in front of my son. I still laugh when I think about it.
No dolls, no manicures, no cute dresses, no hair ribbons. Out of my league. So I would do crafts with him. I would cook with him. I even taught him how to use my sewing machine. I did the best I could.
But the testosterone in him ultimately won out. I let nature guide me.
- There’s the time my dad took him up to the local mountain preserve park for a hike. I think he was about 4 at the time. They came back, my son waddling up our front walk way. My dad laughing. Apparently my son had collected and stuffed so many rocks in his cargo shorts pockets that his shorts kept falling down. All Boy.
- The never ending boo-boo’s and bruises from football, basketball, sliding down stairs, climbing trees. (At one point he had so many bruises on his knees and shins I was afraid the pediatrician would think I was mistreating him. Honestly true. ) All Boy.
- I peeked into the front flap pocket of his school back pack the other day and found: One Spalding Bounce Ball, a rubber band ball, a squashed piece of gum still in it’s wrapper, a Bakugan. And more rocks. (Future geologist in the making?) All Boy.
- Our puppy. He laid down next to the puppy on the floor. Started talking baby talk it. Stopped for a second. Then proceeded to ROAR in the puppies face. All Boy.
- There’s the fish that only lived about 3 days in our house, because he needed to look at them up close (out of water). All Boy.
- There’s the hamster that he used to carry around in his sweatshirt pocket and finally got lost because it fell out and ran away. (Smart hamster. I’d have run away too if I were him.) All Boy.
- The mischievous side that at the age of 5 had him cover the toilet bowl with saran wrap and lower the seat over it. I was the victim of that one. Oh Boy. All Boy.
- The perpetual need to make a fort out of anything and everything. Cushions, tables, large boxes. And the never ending need to wrestle someone. All Boy.
And ya know what? I love having a boy. I now play basketball with him. I’m an assistant administrator in the football program. I can look at a worm without gagging. I love the mother/son dynamics and his thoughtfulness. I love cleaning out every one of his pockets for rocks and gum. I love the Nerf darts all over the floor and the fact that there isn’t one carton here that doesn’t have a peep hole cut out of it.
I could do without the constant replacing of pants because of rips and tears from being so physical though.
I don’t want time to move faster than it already is moving, but I’m excited to see the man he will become.
And if he’ll be a geologist.