oh boy

when i was at my last OB appointment before having rozlyn there was a mom in the waiting room with her little boy running all around crazy like all toddlers forced to wait at an OB office act like. acting all stressed out from having to actually get up from her chair she looked at me and asked "do ya know what your having yet?" with a proud smile i answered, "yeah - a little girl." she then wasted the next 10 minutes of my life to  explain how lucky i was that god had given me a sweet, perfect female instead of an unruly hell-on-wheels little boy. what i didn't know in that moment was that was only the first of numerous times i would have to endure a mom of a boy(s) tell me how much harder they have it in life than me because i was a mother to a precious girl(s).

since that day i have seen countless bruises and scrapes used as living illustrations to coincide with the outrageous stories explaining why i should be so thankful to have a girl. according to every mom of a boy, my daughters will NEVER be as rambunctious or accident-prone as their sons. as i hear story after story after story of experiences that ONLY mothers of boys get to have in life i can't help but laugh: see, if it weren't for having a vagina, i was a little boy when i was growing up.

i can show you the scar on my chin from ryan egleston stopping my back tire at about 20 mph resulting in a perfect flip over my handlebars. my left leg has a scar on it from my ten year old self's decision to hop onto a harley davidson that hadn't cooled and melted off the top layer of my skin. while i had heard of dressing up barbie dolls, my only preference for pink was neon grip tape for my skateboard. and while i could have joined the girls in the neighborhood as they rode their hello kitty bicycles, i preferred trying to burn the retinas of innocent civilians driving down our street with my laser tag gun. then there is that time i convinced andy sparks to slam the door shut with a piece of floss perfectly knotted around a doorknob on one end and my bottom left incisor on the other end. (one lesson in life i will no doubtedly teach my girls is that if you must remove teeth with a slamming door, make sure it is the front teeth - the sides and molars are a bit finicky - and a tad painful.)

last week at mcdonalds playplace there was a Super Boy Mom (SBM's have 2 or more boys) who was appalled at my decision to let my precious little 2 year old girl play in the big part of the jungle gym reserved for 3 and up. (gasp!) i explained to SBM that we were frequent guests of the big play area and that roz had no fear. after what seemed like an eternity of listening to SBM make comments about roz not being allowed in that area, i finally told her to worry about her own kids. her response was "WELL DON'T COME CRYING TO ME WHEN SHE GETS TRAMPLED BY ONE OF MY BOYS!"

i won't go into detail, out of fear of embarrassing my mother, but i will say that the words "bitch" and "playplace nazi" may or may not have slipped out of my mouth. these words that i may or may not have used resulted in SBM attempting to storm out of the play area talking about my lack of class and my truck-driver mouth. however, before she could go she had to round up her boys; which would've been easier if roz didn't have her second-born child in a headlock in the ball pit.

roz got extra ice-cream that night - more than most little boys eat in a month.