Growing up with one sister and no brothers and also attending an all-girls school till the age of 17 left me clueless to the world of men. As a child they were feral creatures to be avoided at all costs. We would visit cousin’s houses and I would try to make myself invisible while observing their behaviour…I was the David Attenborough of the male species, storing the information for a future life. I witnessed the hyperactivity, messiness and violence first hand. These were also the days of unrestricted E numbers which could have had an effect on this.. generic coke and sugar puffs rounded out the 80s kid’s diet. I would veer between pity and jealousy for my female friends and cousins with brothers. On the one hand they had someone to protect them from the mean suburban streets and a potential for hot friends but they also faced extreme forms of torture; chinese burns, forced fart smelling and having to watch football.
Now here I am at the mercy of three small men (and one big one) and while I know that most kids are messy assholes, here are some traits that seem to be primarily male ones.
- The toilet seat. From the dawn of… well toilet seat invention this has been the cause of many arguments and possibly divorces? murder? It isn’t just the laziness of not replacing the lid but the petrie dish of germs and stainage left on the rim that causes palpitations for me and I won’t even get started on the non-replacement of a new roll of toilet paper. I’ll give a nod also to the crop-circled (often skid-marked) jocks loving left 5 inches from the washing basket and always crotch up.
- Not playing with toys. I have said many times before that I am forever searching for the elusive toy that my kids will attach to and while away a quiet few hours. They cry and beg for toys like any kid and when they get them they play with it for 30 seconds and then resume their assholery. Point in case is my two year old’s obsession with Kinder Eggs. He loves to open them and then throw the chocolate away (I eat it, sometimes off the floor). He looks at the toy briefly and then walks away. Right now 2 year old is pushing the double buggy around the house, knocking stuff everywhere while my 4 year old is climbing inside a quilt cover. I have heard from friends that their kids will sit and have tea parties or brush their dolls hair, all nice role-play stuff. The only role-play mine know is possibly John and Mary from Father Ted or a WWF wrestler. As a disclaimer, my husband and I don’t wrestle or beat each other with garden implements (not in front of them anyway).
- They like to mess with their junk.. ALOT! enough said.
- They have so much energy. No matter what time I put my 2 year old to bed, he wakes at 6.30 every morning and is marathon ready. They were cursed with a lazy ass mam who is allergic to parks and the outdoors (psychologically). I may invest in a treadmill for them to run. Before bedtime they like to chase each other around the island in the kitchen for a half hour. This raises an eyebrow from visitors but is a successful full-of-beans remover.
- They love their mammy as I’m sure girls do but the boys are unabashed in their love. I am told many times a day that I am loved and how much (to the moon, then to mars and back to earth again). Conall still likes me to walk him to the door of school and kiss and hug him while his female peers prefer to be dropped at the gate and walk in independently. He has faced a dilemma when his girlfriend Emma bumps into us at the school gates and informs me that she is walking in parentless. Conall is then faced with a Sophie’s Choice of mammy or girl? He looks beseechingly at both of us and I know in an ideal world we would both hold his hand and skip in together but Emma is insistant and he chooses her. I’m happy he’s made the right choice but can’t help mutter “ungrateful bastard” and “harlot” under my breath.
- I don’t have to watch Frozen on repeat or any Disney princessy shite.
- Poos, farts, willies, bums (front and back) are guaranteed to get big laughs. Forget your sophisticated knock knock jokes, our house is more Farrelly Brothers than Coen. Don’t get me wrong I like a poo joke as well as the next but it’s hard to listen to them shout poo and laugh hysterically on long car journeys.
- They wear whatever I put on them which is fabulous, no arguments at all. They wouldn’t notice if I put Borat’s mankini on them, they’d skip out to play oblivious. Haircuts are a pain in the ass as they are so often and as I know short hair is difficult to manage… putting hair in a ponytail is an easy option when compared to sticking down a multitude of cowlicks.
- They like to eat! My middle son is built like a rugby player and it is so hard to keep him full. He’ll eat a steak and a half in a sitting and will want more. He spends half his day standing on the ledge inside the fridge staring at food. He’ll ask “what are you eating?” I’ll say “prawns” and he’ll ask “can I try?”. Then he’ll say mmmm and steal my dinner. The other two are a bit more picky but I am envisioning future food bills when they are teenagers and have started to research the price of camper vans and gas masks.
- The washing, the motherf**cking washing….. it’s too much! I dress them, wash them, gel their cowlicks and five minutes later they are like a miner. How can their fingernails get dirty inside the house?
This list is certainly not exhaustive but I’m sure as they get older I will have more bullet points. I am well aware of the hell that teenagerdom will bring, or am I? The washing….although I have heard they take a hankering to washing their own sheets, how thoughtful.
I know that raising girls brings it’s own hardships and if anyone is up for a challenge, I will gladly post for you on my blog. One point I must mention though is the absolute annoyance of people asking if I’ll be “going for a girl?” Do they not think that my family is complete? Sweet Jesus, one more baby and I’ll lose the last few brain cells I have left so PLEASE stop asking, it ‘aint gonna happen. I am queen of my semi-detached castle and I will continue to clean all those socks and jocks in return for all the sweet hugs and love I get in return, I just put feminism back 50 years didn’t I? Apologies future partners and Emma.