I pride myself on being an independent woman. I lived on my own for a few years before moving in with my husband and getting married; I know how to change a tire; I own a tool box (my father sent me off with one when I moved into my first apartment by myself); I have always understood boys more than girls - their humor (you can't tell a potty-humor joke without me laughing uncontrollably still), their more laid-back ways, their love of sports over shopping. So when I was pregnant with my first child, I had my hopes high that I would have a boy (we didn't find out the gender of either baby). When the doctor announced "here he is! It's a boy!", I was so excited (of course, our hope was only for a healthy baby - we were grateful for that. But I had a preference, so sue me ...). When I was pregnant with my second child, I again hoped for a boy but would have been happy either way. This time the doctor announced, "looks like this one takes after Dad! Congratulations! It's a boy!" I was again overjoyed.
Now that my boys are older - 9 and almost 7 - I'm a little more seasoned in what it means to have boys in the house. While I still identify more with boys' humor and games, I'm not exactly sure I understand the need to constantly have their hands down their pants (if I had a dime for each time I've said, "(insert name here), get your hand out of your pants!", I wouldn't be working full time!) or their need to wrestle on the floor constantly. Thankfully, I pride myself on being somewhat handy around the house. Granted, my husband does a bulk of the "handy" work, but when he's not around, I find that I can handle things on my own.
For instance - my children both have the ability to clog a toilet. Well. Don't get me wrong - I consider my husband a journeyman plumber. He has unclogged toilets all along the eastern seaboard and beyond. But again - when he's not around, I'm no slouch. It's taken a while to hone this skill. This isn't something that comes overnight. Trust. But now that I'm a little more well-versed in the ins-and-outs of the workings of a toilet, I can hang with the best of 'em ... who knew? This isn't something I can take into a profession, but it's certainly something that I will use for years to come when dealing with my children's bathroom habits as they grow. I'm on it. Wait. That may be a poor choice of words. Let's just say I'm handling it. No. Even worse. Let's just say I know what to do when the time comes.
And I wouldn't have it any other way ...
Now that my boys are older - 9 and almost 7 - I'm a little more seasoned in what it means to have boys in the house. While I still identify more with boys' humor and games, I'm not exactly sure I understand the need to constantly have their hands down their pants (if I had a dime for each time I've said, "(insert name here), get your hand out of your pants!", I wouldn't be working full time!) or their need to wrestle on the floor constantly. Thankfully, I pride myself on being somewhat handy around the house. Granted, my husband does a bulk of the "handy" work, but when he's not around, I find that I can handle things on my own.
For instance - my children both have the ability to clog a toilet. Well. Don't get me wrong - I consider my husband a journeyman plumber. He has unclogged toilets all along the eastern seaboard and beyond. But again - when he's not around, I'm no slouch. It's taken a while to hone this skill. This isn't something that comes overnight. Trust. But now that I'm a little more well-versed in the ins-and-outs of the workings of a toilet, I can hang with the best of 'em ... who knew? This isn't something I can take into a profession, but it's certainly something that I will use for years to come when dealing with my children's bathroom habits as they grow. I'm on it. Wait. That may be a poor choice of words. Let's just say I'm handling it. No. Even worse. Let's just say I know what to do when the time comes.
And I wouldn't have it any other way ...