The were captivated, mesmerized, perplexed. What was on my toes? Fingernail polish. It was a first. They liked it. Red was a good choice. Maybe next time I could paint them blue. My middle announced that some color was better than no color.
Another morning I came out with something quite---unusual. What was on my legs? They touched, stroked, and pulled. Tights. What are those? My middle scrunched his nose, “Those are weird to me.” My oldest laughed and ran off to play. My 15-month-old couldn’t pull himself away from my legs covered in this strange, elastic substance.
They yank on my hair; I’m the only one with any long enough to pull. They run their fingers through it as they snuggle with me on the couch. I can tell in their eyes that I am beautiful.
This is my world. This is what it means to be outnumbered. All things girl are quite foreign, and I love it. I love being the center of their worlds and their introduction to all things womanly, female. I take my role very seriously.
That is why I play catch, soccer, wrestle, and enter their worlds of: transformers, pirates, and wild, flesh eating lions. I want to represent balance and exploration---adventure.
They’ve both picked out their future wives. My second keeps changing his mind, but so far he seems attracted to blondes. My oldest appears loyal and true. He has not wavered in his choice of future sojourner. (We happily approve of his choice.)
However, the true sign of normal male development happened on the playground today while I was volunteering at my son’s preschool. My oldest was swinging from the monkey bars with three other very athletically inclined male peers, when they were rudely interrupted, “Yuck! There is a girl,” my red head shouted and took off running, running for his life. I could tell he’d discovered “cooties” as he led the other boys off in a sprint toward the far reached of the playground.
The girl was not ruffled or dazed. She just went off and found her like species. And so it begins, the years of girls being icky....except for me. I still remain the acceptable women in their boy worlds---after all I am mom. I feed, clothe, transport, teach, guide, read, and play with them. They’ve stopped saying they plan on marrying me, but secretly I hope they find some daughter-in-laws a bit like me---I think I’m a pretty good catch.
The problem is that once they decide that girls aren’t yucky, they will find me terribly annoying. But then that too is a phase. I’ll just wait. And soon they’ll realize, once again, just how amazing I really am.