When I decided to tackle parenthood, I didn’t really think past the precious phases of babies and toddlers. I was going to give birth and somehow, miraculously, these critters would stay cute and little forever.
During pregnancy, I would get the typical questions about gender, which one was floating in my tummy and was it the type I was hoping for. Inevitably I would receive the “boys are so much easier than girls” trivia and vice versa.
I only really wanted girls. But the little floaters don’t always cooperate and I was blessed with two boys and a girl.
Little kids mean little problems. I can handle little problems. They’re easy and when they are babies, the problems aren’t so gender specific as much as per stage they are in. I could control pretty much their entire environment from the moment they would wake up to what time they would go to bed. I chose which preschool they attended, what clothes they wore, how often they brushed their teeth. It was easy. They were my little toys and I adored playing with them.
Then, somehow and without my permission, they became TEENAGERS.
Big kids mean bigger and mostly out of my control type problems. That’s what everyone told me from the beginning. THAT is why I tried really hard to keep them as young as possible for as long as possible. Yeah, it didn’t work. They keep growing up and so do their troubles.
Girls. They go from being so sweet and lovely when they are little to suddenly, and quite out of nowhere, they become possessed by a horrific internal demon or two. I believe it’s called puberty. They become a very not nice word that means a female dog. I know, I live with two of these not so furry creatures. I keep thinking I’m in the midst of a nightmare and I have bruises from trying to wake myself up all the time. But I get them, I used to be one of them. Their moods are in line with the moon and you only have to hide when it’s full. And hide well.
Boys. Whoever told me that the little male children were easier? Um yeah, they weren’t being open and honest. All lies, I tell you. OK, maybe they are just as easy as girls when they are little. But, once they hit puberty and their voices start cracking, so do their minds. Boy drama is SO different from girls. Or maybe it’s because I understand the girl point of view, being a girl myself. My 15 year old son hates when I use the word angst to describe him. It’s the most fitting word I can find besides drama queen and he definitely would like that description even less.
Both sexes come with their own schtick. Boys. Girls. It doesn’t matter. Having kids isn’t easy, period. Ever. You just have to love them with all your heart and be there for them every step of the way (then hide in the closet with a nice bottle of red, forget the glass). From what my mom says, it never gets any less worrisome, even when your kids are grown and have children of their own.
Which leaves me thinking that maybe, perhaps, I would have been better off being a cat lady. Cats are MUCH easier than children. Except, I hate doing the litter even more than cleaning the toilet in the kid bathroom.
Although they haven’t stayed cute and little forever, I wouldn’t trade my babies for all the cats in the world. I guess I’ll just keep on tackling…
This post is brought to you by the fine folks at Paragon Apartments, offering apartments across Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky, and the Paragon Patio, where residents connect. We’d love to talk with you on Facebook and Twitter!
This post is brought to you by the fine folks at Paragon Apartments, offering apartments across Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky, and the Paragon Patio, where residents connect. We’d love to talk with you on Facebook and Twitter!
