Six years ago, when I fell pregnant with my first born, I had created a fantasy about how the next nine months would go. It involved furnishing a nursery, planning a baby shower and being pampered like the queen I though I was, all in waiting for the impending arrival of our princess.
Yes, that’s right, I just assumed I was going to be having a girl. I always wanted a girl, it was pretty much the only option and picture in my head at the time. I had a strong gut feeling that I was put on this earth to mother a miniature version of myself.
As it turned out, the universe had other plans and they were far removed from playing with fairy castles and painting nails and would more involve butt crack jokes and nerf gun wars.
Hold on! I know, there are some people out there reading this right now thinking: “That is so stereotypical, my daughter loves a good gun fight too!” or “Just because I paint my son’s nails, doesn’t make him any less of a boy!” Disclaimer. I am in no way saying that. Any of it. This is simply my opinion. It’s personal. Taken from my experiences and the concoctions of my mind.
I am not a fan of surprises and I cannot keep a secret for the life of me, so when our sonogram rolled around, and she asked if we wanted to find out the sex of the baby, naturally, I answered for both of us, YES! Staring me in the face was the outline of the end of my shopping date dreams and fairy floss coloured bed spreads.
“It’s a boy!” the sonographer exclaimed.
I wasn’t overly disappointed, but I wasn’t entirely thrilled either. I felt like I had to re-learn everything I thought I knew about the human existence because the idea of a penis growing inside of me, scared me. It was such a strange concept. I was going to have to wrangle that kid later. I was going to have to teach him how to control those “urges” and toilet train him. Is it two or three shakes before you’re playing with yourself? I was out of my depth.
Months rolled by and I just accepted the fact that I would be a boy mum. Besides, there would always be a chance to balance out the scales with our second, right? WRONG.
First born was somewhere around five-months-old when, SURPRISE, I found out we were expecting again. I was a little bit hesitant and anxious as that whole first baby gig was not what I expected. I also wasn’t too sure if I could go through it all again either. But the hopes of having a little girl fluttered around in my mind.
When the time came, I once again requested to find out the sex of the baby. The image was only plastered on the screen for about 10 seconds, a familiar sight caught my eye. Dammit! Here we go again! My husband was chuffed. He had two boys to carry on the family name. Awesome, he got birth rights and I got a house full of testosterone and body odour.
I was very apprehensive about baby number two arriving. I would be out-numbered and very unsure how to approach the whole scenario. However, as it turned out, he has a blessing in disguise. Wrapped in the form of a little boy who thinks being naked is comical and that the back of the couch is a home for all things that exit your nose, he is my little blessing.
It wasn’t what I had expected, this whole boy mum thing, but it became better than I imagined. Having two boys is no easy feat. There are so many heart stopping moments where I automatically assume one has killed the other and the sound of good punch has become so familiar to my ears.
They have more energy than any other human being on this planet, literally. I struggle to keep up because they never say die. Even in their sleep, someone is chasing somebody else and the mornings are met with who can work up the biggest, smelliest poo. It may be wild and messy but it’s my wild and messy.
I throw my hair into a pony and have grown to love sport. I am that competitive mum screaming from the sidelines and these days the idea of spending more than 20 minutes in a shopping centre gives me anxiety. Life has become more about dressing up as superheroes and plotting ten different ways to scare each other and I have become a pro at playing hide and seek.
So, yes, I am a proud mother of boys and no, I definitely don’t wish I had a girl.
Are you raising boys? Do you ever wish you had a girl? Tell us in the comments section below.