Allowing Him to Be Disgusting


Allowing Him to Be Disgusting

When we were fighting infertility and praying God would make us parents the biological way, I had a really specific prayer request. I asked that God would only make me a mom to boys. Isn’t that terrible? My legal assistant believes me to be deranged, but she also has three daughters. The truth is I struggled a lot inside my own childhood with being female and honestly, girls can be damned mean. Really damn mean depending on the circumstances.

All of my best friends growing up were boys and I truly couldn’t wait to be grossed out by dirt and bugs and snotty noses. Imagine my surprise when our adoption surprised us with a boy and a girl. My daughter is fantastic and I wouldn’t trade being her mom for anything, but there are days I struggle with the emotional roller coaster that is an 11 year old living in our home. I remember there being drama in 5th grade when I was her age, but Dear Lord, help me. The sky is always falling and someone is always doing something horrific or saying something despicable about someone else. Mercy, I can barely keep up.

Sasan Gir, village boys

 

Her brother is also a major embarrassment for her angst-ridden self. Mostly it is because he may be one of the most disgusting human beings to ever roam the earth. Except I’ve been around his friends. There is one universal truth: all 7 year old boys are exactly the same.  The more grotesque they are, the more elevated their “cool status” becomes. I would love to tell you this bothers me, but it doesn’t. While his sister and sometimes his father roll their eyes and bemoan his farting at the table, I cannot keep from laughing.

There is a joy that comes with burping with your mouth or with your hand and your arm pit that induces such hilarity it is infectious. While I remind him that table manners and other matters of cleanliness should be followed, he rarely listens. It is my own mode of self-preservation to allow him some freedom about skipping a bath now and then and ignoring the 15th time he tries to burp his name at dinner. While someone once penned the words “let them be little”, for boyhood, I say “let them be gross”.

photo courtesy of Arian Zwegers

Mom's Small Victories
Lindsey Andrews
About me

Attorney & Author. Always in search for daily joy.

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