Being The Lone Female In A House Full Of Boys: Expectations Vs. Reality

boys playing piratesI always just assumed I’d have a daughter. I grew up as one of two girls and took for granted the fact that one day I would have an awesome mother/daughter relationship like I do with my mom. Instead, fate gave me two sons, and I won’t be having another child just to try for a girl. Having all boys is awesome, but when I first saw those teeny weeny peenies appear on the ultrasound, I admit I was nervous about what my future would be like surrounded by three men, four if you count the cat.

Expectation: Boys are way grosser than girls.

Reality: Boys are no grosser than girls. All toddlers have less than savory habits, but it seems to be personality rather than gender that determines this. One of my boys is a dainty eater, the other ends each meal looking like Dexter after a messy night’s work. I have friends with daughters and the things that come out of their delicate little bodies both shock and amaze me.

Expectation: As the only woman in the house, I will be treated like a queen. Breakfast in bed every weekend, never having to lift heavy things or deal with large bugs.

Reality: If by queen, you mean “chambermaid” then this is totally accurate. I really hope this changes once my boys get older, but as for now they refuse to acknowledge my royal status as the sole lady round these parts. Never mind saying “Mama” to show home much they appreciate me, they prefer words with infinitely more significance in their lives like “tent”. And as for heavy lifting, I can manage to haul five plastic bags of groceries plus a toddler into the house in a single trip from the car to the kitchen, while my husband takes two bags filled with lettuce and then drops the keys in an effort to unlock the front door.

Expectation: Hide your lamps! Boys will destroy everything you own with their roughhousing.

Reality: See Exhibit A

Parenting Fail
Exhibit A.

This is what happened when I stepped out of the room for however long it takes to turn on the Keurig and add Pumpkin Spice creamer to a cup of coffee. I know people use the phrase “This is why we can’t have nice things” ironically, but seriously, I can’t have any of the things, let alone nice ones. Other recent destruction not depicted- one iPad mini shattered (Who?), one pile of unidentified green something mushed into the carpet (What?), two curtain rods yanked down (When?), the charger for my Kindle (Where?), two broken Tiffany & Co. necklaces (Why?) and one soaking wet and traumatized cat (How?). They haven’t even hit the terrible twos yet, so if you see me wearing a neck brace in a few months, odds are you’ll know why.

Expectation: Boys are too rough and tumble for hugs and kisses.

Reality:  Horrible mother confession time: I sometimes plead with my kids to get off me. Maybe this will change as they get older, but at 21 months, their favorite game is “Lapfight”, followed closely by “Let me mush myself against you and refuse to let you get up for hours on end.” Not going to lie, the snuggles are kind of awesome. Plus, they provide a handy excuse as to why I didn’t get to the laundry.

Expectation: Boys toys are boring. I will be surrounded by action figures and a million tiny Legos to step on.

Reality: Toys are toys no matter the gender. Before I had kids I didn’t realize how many toys are universal. Things like blocks, books, stuffed animals, board games and crafts are basically the same as they were when I was a little and my boys love it all. Right now they are really into play cooking. I cant wait for Christmas because I loved my play kitchen set when I was young and I’m excited to relive that with them. Even the more stereotypical boy toys are still familiar to me, there’s not much of a difference between a Spiderman figure and a Barbie.

So maybe I’ll always have to take out the trash myself. All things considered, the reality of having sons is pretty awesome, and at least I’ll never reach for a tampon to find the box unexpectedly empty.

(Feature Image: Shutterstock)
(Exhibit A: Author’s own)

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