Last weekend saw me left alone with the boys at home, as Mr Only Girl fled the scene on a work trip. This mini-(anti)-break allowed me some time to fully appreciate the boy-ness that plays out in front of me on a daily basis, but is usually osmosed by Mr Only Girl, so skips past my girly gaze.
I grew up as an only child, with a single mum and attended an all-girls school – my life was officially girly. It was as girly as they came, think fake tan, beauty pageants, high heels and mother/daughter shopping trips galore. Then, in 2006, my life changed – there was nothing that could prepare me for a life with boys – things I never knew existed are now common place in my life. Today, I praise those dirty, noisy little blues for giving me a re-education. They’ve brought endless things into my life that I never really needed, don’t really want – but oddly, really enjoy. Here’s just a few…
The boys can spend hours – days – weeks lost to the world of Youtube. Whether they’re giggling along to Joe Suggs’ latest prank on Casper Lee – two names that wouldn’t have entered my stratosphere pre-boys; admiring Ronaldo’s Rabona (!), no, this is not a highly toned part of his anatomy; or watching other people play video games – with the exception of the last, I can’t help but enjoy this mindless, somewhat entertaining, yet very juvenile pastimes.
This is clearly a huge subject, which pre-boys, I knew very little about. I can now, without much conscious thought, spell most premiership footballers names, am the proud owner of my own Sun Dream Team, have an informed conversation about the latest transfer window happenings and shout “off-side ref!” with conviction now I have a grasp of this silly rule!
I can add coins to a FIFA account with one hand whilst blindfolded, give you latest colour of Hypervenoms and even recognise the real estate of most world class players.
If someone had have requested 4 years ago “Can you tighten my trucks?” I would’ve assumed they were being a little crude or perhaps looking at the wrong person. Now, not only do I understand the meaning of this, I can, with some degree of accuracy carry out the task at hand. Having to trip over at least 20 skateboard & scooter components on my way to the back door every day, generally means you become accustomed to their names, in order to shout “who the hell has left this deck for the dog to piss on and these bearings for your baby brother to choke on?!”.
Who would have known it was possible for a human body of 4ft5 tall and weighing a mere 24kg could eat enough to feed a national pie-eating sqaud?! Except, of course, when it comes to meal times. They can snack until they look like they might pass out, but put a plate of food on the table and suddenly they become fussy!
When I pictured motherhood, it never contained so many references to the male anatomy. I my pre-kid fairy-lit haze, not only did I think I’d only have girls, but I also assumed all boy bits would just take care of themselves. WRONG! I think the neighbours think I get stuck on repeat at 7pm most nights, when they can hear me yell “make sure you wash your willy…… PROPERLY!”.
I thought the only difference in footwear was mule, kitten heel, ballet pump or stiletto. I never prepared myself for not only knowing the difference between astros, blades and studs – but also being informed enough to make decisions as to which boot is suitable for which playing surface!
Wetsuits; who new they came in different thickness with varying seams?!
Bikes: I never appreciated that every boy NEEDS at least 2x BMX’s, 1x mountain bike along with somesort of hybrid – just in case!
Sick; this is an indication that the item in question is, in fact, great. There’s no vomit or high fevers involved, just awesomeness.
Tekkers; the technical tricks one might perform whilst playing football. See the F2 for sick tekkers.
Rabona, Rainbow Flick, Cruyff Turn, Double Scissor & Elastico; all sick tekkers to be marveled at.
Pana or Megs; when the ball is passed between your oppoents legs and must be shouted in their face as loud as a birthing sea-lion.
So, there you have it. This is my life – like THIS hilarious video of a mum continually being thrown an egg by her teenage son, I’m forever being caught off guard with questions like “who do you think is the strongest player in La Liga?” or “do I need to take my blades or studs?”, but I’ve learned to love it- if you can’t beat the little monsters – join ’em!