I wasn’t expecting to have a boy, I’m not sure I was made to have boys and I still question whether I’m up to the task sometimes. There are many things I wasn’t adequately prepared for.
Firstly, their relationship with their penis.
Cliche perhaps, but undeniably true; it’s their first and most enduring love.
It’s unbelievable really. A baby is barely able to do anything but cry, poop and feed and yet somehow they just know it’s there, and that it’s somehow important and more than that, it’s just so much fun to play with. It looks pretty painful sometimes to be honest (who knew they were even that stretchy? ) but that does not appear to put them off.
And it doesn’t stop.
Now he’s out of nappies and can manage to take his trousers off at will, I feel like I should just record myself saying ‘please stop playing with it’ and play it on a loop because I’m wasting way too much energy.
I definitely never envisaged having to tell anyone to stop putting their penis on other people or stop playing with it on the train. Even when I was considering a career with the police.
Secondly, and not entirely unrelated, my whole house smells of pee now.
Having watched a friend’s baby boy manage to pee on a complete stranger several feet away at a baby weigh-in clinic, I knew when I found out that I was expecting a boy that streams of wee were something I was going to have to get used to, but wow.
I scrub the toilets and the seats, I clean the floors, I wash the mats and some how the scent still lingers, like it’s part of the fabric of the house now.
And that’s before we’ve even started the peeing-standing-up thing which I’m absolutely dreading because let’s face it, even adult men have trouble there sometimes.
Stories of getting up in the night and navigating a sea of piss before plonking one’s half-asleep bum cheeks upon a wet seat make the cost of the extension and en-suite all worth it in my opinion.
But the last thing I wasn’t expecting is how they can wrap you around their little finger so easily.
So they can piss on the floors and remove their clothes and scream and you and all it takes is a ‘love you mummy’ and a cheeky grin with big, blue eyes and longer eyelashes than boys really deserve and all is forgiven, because little boys know exactly how to work their mums, and we are completely powerless against them.
God help me, and all the mothers of boys.
May your bleach be strong and your alcohol be stronger.