A couple of weeks ago, it was National Daughters Day. Apparently. I’m still not sure if this was a real holiday or just a social media thing. Either way, my Facebook feed was blowing up with heartfelt notes and beautiful photos from just about every #girlmom I know. But I am a #boymom. I do not have daughters. I only have two smelly, moody, sports-and-phone-obsessed adolescent sons who drive me crazy on a near-hourly basis. Needless to say, I didn’t/couldn’t join in the #nationaldaughtersday love.
To be honest, I was a little envious at first. Seeing all those photos of smiling moms and daughters wearing matching outfits, and reading posts about moms being besties with their daughters (going to concerts together, shopping, getting their nails done, having GNO and Sunday brunch dates after their yoga classes, etc.) made me feel like I was missing out on something great. But then I remembered what’s not in those photos and posts — the drama, the mood swings (can you say, monthly PMS?!), the arguments, the expense … Boys are easier in so many ways. Sure, you have to be thick-skinned to their inherent lack of emotion and poor communication skills, tolerant of their poor hygiene, nose-blind to their bodily odors and visually blind to their messy rooms and habits, but for the most part, boys are simpler. And cheaper.
Case in point: Homecoming. While the girls spent hundreds of dollars and multiple hours getting ready for last weekend’s high school Homecoming dance, my son spent no money and all of about 20 minutes showering and dressing. An hour before the pre-party photos, he was outside shooting hoops with his brother. The biggest time-suck was convincing him not to wear white gym socks with his dress clothes. That’s low maintenance to the highest (or is it, lowest?) degree.
The truth is, I prefer the simplicity of having boys. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to relive the agony of middle school/high school girl drama. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to spend my money on tampons now that I’m six years post-menopausal. Maybe it’s because I don’t really like to shop. Or share. Or go out. Or maybe it’s because there’s only room for one mercurial bitch in our house and I’m already here. [Side note for those without sons: Tween/teen boys are still moody; It’s just not as predictable/cyclical as it is with menstruating girls.]
Do I wish my boys opened up about their feelings more readily and communicated more clearly? Yes. Do I wish they brushed their teeth on the regular and flushed the toilet without reminders? Of course. Do I wish they smelled more like sweet roses and less like malodorous armpits? Absolutely. But with boys — my boys, at least — there is less friend drama, fewer wardrobe arguments and virtually no expensive shopping sprees … Sans sneakers; Those babies are pricey and their love of sneakers would make Imelda Marcos proud.
Do I wish I had a daughter? No, not really. I’m happy being a #boymom. I love those stinkers fiercely and wouldn’t trade them for the world — at least on most days. I just wish they’d pick up their sh*t more often. [A hug every now and then wouldn’t hurt either, boys, in case you’re reading this.]
– LJDT
