We were driving out to the woods on Saturday evening, and Tim switched on the radio. Cyndi Lauper came on, because this is Heart Radio, and they like their Saturday nights to start with a cheese board.
Tim whipped up the volume, and I yelled out of the window, picturing myself in sleeves as big as my head.
Whoooa GIRLS just wanna have fu-un
Whoooa GIRLS just wanna haaaaave fuuuuun!
Then I yelled, equally loudly, ‘I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DANCE TO THIS IN OUR HOUSE’.
Because, of course, I have boys.
Sometimes I think the girl-ache will eat me alive. Genetically speaking, we’re likely to have boys until we decide to stop having anyone. I have lingered in frilly-dress aisles and directed mournful glances at baby headbands and flowered vests. My well-thumbed, twenty-year-old copies of The Little White Horse and A Little Princess sit hopefully on my shelf, but are likely to be ignored in favour of Artemis Fowl and Lemony Snicket (just to be clear, I know boys can love A Little Princess too, and I think Lemony Snicket is a wordy genius. But, you know, statistics). And there are things that a mother can only have with a daughter. The vulnerability and prickly magnificence of being a woman is something that is precious to me. I would like to share it with someone who has my heart.
We arrived at the woods and wandered in. The sun was going down, with the kind of light that clarifies. Henry was poking in a muddy puddle with a stick, flat cap pulled down low over his eyes. He passed me another stick without looking at me. ‘This one yours, Mummy’, he said.
I settled down to poking. It’s underrated, I think.
As the sun set, I took over Teddy’s back carrier so Henry could sit on Tim’s shoulders. The darkness came in behind and around us while Henry listened for owls, and I listened to Teds sigh and coo behind my head. He is so beautiful, this one, that some days all I can do is squeeze him.
‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep’, I said to Henry. ‘What’s the next line?’Â He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
Oh yes, that was it. I raised my voice and my arms, because in the dark, with your wordy boy who understands you completely, and your tiny boy who adores you too much to care, you can do that sort of thing.
‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep –
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep’.
I looked over and he’d raised his skinny arms too. Teddy huffed again behind my head. I felt like I was made for this.
‘I heard an owl’, Henry said.
‘Me too’, I said.
We went home.
I have just found your blog through the MADS finalist list. One post in (this one) and I think I’m gonna love you – you had me at ‘wordy’. x
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Oh gosh, I still can’t believe that – I am very tiny in comparison to those other finalists! Really exciting. So glad you’re here – let’s be wordy together! X
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Beautiful. I feel all these things!
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Thank you so much. Here’s to embracing boys!
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Oh my goodness, so glad I found your blog. From one wordy mother of 2 boys to another: this is beautiful x
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Ah, a kindred spirit – so glad you’re here, and glad you liked the post! X
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Poking sticks is definitely underrated. Beautiful post.
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Thank you! I find myself oddly fascinated by it. It’s very satisfying. All I can say is, thank goodness for the invention of wellies 🙂
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So beautifully written it made my heart ache.
PS. Although, read my latest post about my girl and think yourself lucky 😉
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I love this. I have a little boy and a tiny boy too and think there’s something rather special about being a mummy to boys 🙂
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Hello. Another one here who found your blog through looking at MADS finalists.
I always wanted a girl and as much as I said I didn’t care during my first pregnancy (because obviously I would love my baby whatever the sex) I did really really want a girl. And when I pushed out a pink one I was so happy. My second child is a boy and I love him equally (of course) and I am really enjoying the new adventure of having a little boy. But I do wonder how I would have felt if I hadn’t had a girl. Whether I would feel there was a gap in my life.
Lovely honest post xx
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I had a little girl and I still have a girl ache.. They don’t always do as you would expect whatever the gender.. sigh 🙂
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Ha, of course – they do insist on being their own people, despite our best efforts 🙂 x
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Yes, to it all! I hadn’t quite realised the extent of my girl ache until Jess had Annabella, so many tiny pretty things! I’m pretty used to boys now and I’ve never been particularly girly myself, but I do have that occasional longing.
We are also quite likely to have boys until we stop having anything, and it’s a little odd after growing up with 5 sisters!
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I thought I had a post on this. I wrote it 4 years ago so be warned, it’s even clunkier than my normal writing! http://undomesticaited.wordpress.com/2010/01/02/overrun-by-boys/
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Oh, this was lovely! Thanks for the link – I like hearing that other people have had the same experiences 🙂
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