I’m going to say something that is probably gonna get the gender police all riled up, but raising boys is hard.
Keep your earrings on, and note, I did not say raising boys was harder than raising girls.
I am not a boy mom who is about to tell you that. First, it’s unlikely to be true –boys and girls are different in some ways, but we’re still all just humans so we’re not THAT different. Second, I wouldn’t know anyway. Having only been the mother to male children who identify fully as such, I couldn’t tell you what being the mother to a girl child is like. I have my make believe moments where I envision life with a daughter as basically being her and me playing unicorn princesses after we put scratch-n-sniff stickers in our Disney autograph books and then go for glitter mani-pedis together, but I feel like that’s probably just not real life.
What I do know is that my position as a fully identified woman who subscribes to many female gender roles and beliefs, raising male children who are quite stereotypically male children makes things interesting. Mostly because I know the mind of the standard little girl. I get what she likes, I know what it feels like to go through puberty and worry about your boobs not growing enough, or *gah* too much! I understand the typical little girl’s relationship with her body, I appreciate the daily struggle of being a woman and navigating the world as such. I know how it feels to be judged for being too skinny (yes, there was a time in my life) or too fat or too brown or too smart or too opinionated or too hard or too soft or too everything.
I know this struggle. Because I live it.