Motherhussy

The Joys of Boys (Dedicated to Nick)

When I was a little girl my favorite toys were baby dolls. Baby GIRL dolls. I loved to dress them up in pastel ruffled clothes, rock them, sing to them, and dream of putting them in plastic doll interpretive ballet when they got older. I l-o-v-e-d little baby girls! I don’t know, maybe it was because I was a little girl myself which made me extremely biased. Naturally, I thought that when I got pregnant there was no other option for me but to have a baby girl. A baby girl. Boy, was I off. (pun totally not intended when I typed it, but damn, what a great one if I do say so myself) So, to make a long story short—I did not end up giving birth to a pink, Strawberry Shortcake scented mini-female. I gave birth to the anti-girl: a set of twin boys. This is where I start the topic of my blog, the topic being, WHAT IS UP WITH THE MALE SPECIES? Little boys in particular…

Not long ago, Nichole mentioned, and I quote, “Isn't it funny that we all suck at relationships with men, and are all having to raise boys?” She was so totally on when she wrote that. Between the four of us, (the Hanson girls) we’ve probably been through over a thousand men, no joke. Three out of four of us have been married, and divorced in less than two years. One of our favorite pastimes is to get together, eat snack food, and bash our ex-boyfriends and/or current partners. This is not because we are mean,spiteful bitches, hell no. We find this to be the only therapy that can get us through one more day in a world full of balls and wieners. We do this to try to make sense of something (or some gender) that does not make sense at all. Seriously though, I’m totally digressing and getting away from what I was getting at in the first place. Trying to get some answers to the question of, WHAT IS UP WITH THE MALE SPECIES? Little boys in particular…

Some male (little boy) phenomenon I have been subjected to lately (without any type of life preparation whatsoever):

Oozing athletes’ foot
Sweaty jockstraps
Unhealthy obsessions with sports
Fort building, followed by fort destruction
Pooh skids on tighty whities
That “smell” (ooh, ooh, that smell)
Big Mac attacks, yes, I'm talking about the sandwich
Wrestling
Wrestling—with blood!
The TOTAL lack of using a calm, quiet voice at any time in a 24-hour period
Urine spattered toilet seats
Dirty hands, even after showering
17 different types of stains on ONE shirt
Did I mention oozing athlete’s foot?

I was not prepared to be in the thick of all of the above, nor was I prepared to be the main cleaner-upper of all of the above. I am utterly mind boggled. How does one get athlete’s foot? Do you have to lick the floor of a locker room and then tongue a track star? How does poop get on jock straps? They don’t even touch the butt crack, do they? (Sorry for typing “butt crack” that is so crude and so unlike me, but I had no other way…)

Why must they (boys) always be participating in full-contact activities? Homework is a full-contact sport at our house. What do they roll in at school to end up smelling like “that smell”? How come their pee does not make it in to that HUGE hole called the toilet bowl? Why? How? Why? How? WHY!!?? *Sigh* I'm getting closer to the realization that I may never get answers to those questions. Who knows, maybe I was given boys to challenge me, to raise me to a whole new level of life—a level of life where I can sit through an hour of basketball and not be bored to tears and twitches. A level of life where I don’t mind that I just sat in someone’s pee on the toilet seat. A level of life where I don’t need pink ruffles or curled ponytails. A level of life where all the dirt, carnage, skid marks, and yelling are just ways a son tells his mother, “If it weren’t for you Mom, I wouldn’t be here to wipe my big booger on the bathroom sink so you can mistakenly think it’s a chip in the sink, accidentally touch it, and find out it’s not a chip in the sink, but my big booger.” And in the end, isn’t that the way all sons tell their mothers “Mom, I love you”?

posted by Anonymous @ 8:40 PM