"You must be busy."

I always thought I wanted girls.  I am a girly girl.  I oooze girl.  I like makeup.  And clothes.  And talking.  And all of that stereotypical "girl" stuff.

All through high school I wore high heels and skirts and hats.  Even when I was on crutches.  Not kidding.

And then I grew up and got married and had three boys.  Who woulda thought.

I mean, really.

Me, the girl who rarely goes to Target without makeup on (Sunday was an exception and, of course, I ran into someone I knew.  That will teach me.)

But then I had a boy. 

And a second.

And a third.

And along the way, people have said crazy things.

Some are well-intentioned.  Some are not.  Some are sweet.  Crazy, but sweet.  But some?  Some plant seeds.

Oh you must keep your mom busy.


How many broken bones have you had at your house so far?


So, Mom will never get to have the toilet seat down again, will she?

As a mom of boys.  As a mom who thought she "wanted" girls.  It's those seeds that bother me.   It's those seed-planting ones I worry about the most.

When people first hear that I have three boys, they often give me a look of sympathy.  Or nod appreciatively and tell me their father was one of x-many boys and they always felt badly for their grandmother.  They could "tell."  It just changed her.

But the one that gets me the most is when they turn to the boys and say, "Oooh-eee, be good to your poor mom."

And I get that this is just small talk.  Or people seeking to relate.  Or even giving me a little virtual hug.

I get that.

And I get that on many levels boys are girls are different.  Believe me.  There are moments those people are right.  My house is messy and loud and busy and, well, boy-filled.

And, yes, there are moments all of the boy-ness gets to the girly-girl part of me.

But, while I have never parented a girl, I am one myself (surprise!) and will be the first one to acknolwedge there are differences that just nature versus nurture can't account for.

But here is what bothers me. It's almost as if, without really meaning to, we are all walking around helping carve out these gender roles for our kids. 

Because these statements are almost always made in front of the kids.

Telling boys they are wild and crazy and messy and loud.  Telling girls they are emotional and feisty and cute and doting. 

Telling boys that it's okay to "make life hell for your mom" now.  Telling girls they will be an emotional mess when they are teens.

And whether or not the kids really hear it, they do hear it.

And whether or not it might be true (or not), we have now put it out there as fact.

Having grown up a girl (again, I know, surprise) there has been a lot said over the years about who society tells girls to be.  And much should be said about it.  Because there are issues.  Major, massive issues.  About body and beauty and success and relationships.  And we girls, we take those thing on.  Internalize them. 

But, perhaps, do so boys.

So what do we tell our boys about who they should be?  Do we tell them "boys will be boys" far too often?  Do we wink and nod to their antics, picturing their frazzled mom pulling her hair out in the background?  Do we tell them it's okay to be less than who they might be?


Are my boys really any more of a handful than my friend Tracy's three girls?  A different handful, sure.  But still three people to raise and nurture and send into the world.

I mean, sure.  Many boys, mine included, yell and run and jump.  And, yes, their antics terrify me.  But that is because they are my kids.  Kids are supposed to terrify their parents.  Because we worry about them and love them.  Not because they are boys.

Going to try for that girl?

I hate "Going to try for that girl?" the most of all.

My boys were never a consolation prize.  They are people.  And yes, they happen to be three little male people.  And yes, the toilet seat is always up.  And it is loud and messy (them, not the toilet seat being up.)

But they also cry.  And want to talk.  And are curious.  And create.  And are smart.  And just are.

They are people.

And me?  I am no more of a champion or a victim than any other mother out there, whether she has one child or ten.  And whether they are boys or girls.

Our kids have enough challenges in sorting our roles in life without us layering bias and expectations on them.

What have I really learned as the mom of boys?

What do you know?  Turns out I didn't want girls.  I just wanted kids.

I just wanted to raise people.



My friend Tracy, who is the mom of three girls, and I decided to write posts about raising three kids of the same gender today.  Go check her out.