He's all boy

Yesterday I had two encounters with this little phrase and it got me thinking. "He's all boy" has bugged me before every now and then in little ways, but yesterday really made me wonder, "What are we talking about??"

I took the kids to the park and we met this sweet mom with her two boys. Her oldest was 8 1/2 and just a darling boy. So caring and kind, just wanted to play with my kids and share his bubbles with them, concerned about them if they cried, so sweet. His little brother was 2 1/2 and while still very sweet, also in that experimental, boundary pushing phase. We had brought a plastic bat and a large bouncy ball with us, and after playing with the ball for a while, the boy decided to see how well it would bounce off Evan's head. If you know my son at all, you know that didn't go over particularly well (tears and "I don't like that!!"). Just a bit later the boy took the plastic bat and proceeded to bonk Charlie repeatedly on the head with it. The mother apologized profusely and threw out those magic little words, "He's just all boy!"

For just a tic, it made me think...what do we mean when we say that? I know the general idea that surrounds that phrase that I'm supposed to pick up, but really, what are we saying there?

Then later that evening someone commented on my son's scraped up knee, "Look at his knee (chuckle), he's just all boy", I laughingly pointed out that Charlie had a matching scrape on her same knee from climbing the same dirt hill before I could catch myself and think, "Wait, does that infer that she is also 'all boy'?"

It's one of those silly things that rolls around in your head needlessly. In all my spare time (insert emoji crying-laughing here), I think I figured out what we're saying with this colloquialism. We use it when a boy is running around like crazy, being aggressive, hurting themselves, being loud, doing something physical with little to no thought of harm to himself or others. It's a very physical, loud, unaware boy, this All Boy, boy. So we're saying the essence of being a boy is kind of a very primal (or caveman like) idiot of sorts. We also use it to excuse behavior, I've noticed. For example, the hitting of my daughter with the bat. While I don't think that action made him a "bad kid" or anything like that at all, I think it made him a curious toddler quite honestly, I don't really know why we excuse the behavior with that saying. It's just weird, no?

I'm not trying to get all hyper-feminist on us all either, because I actually do think that the true meaning of "he's all boy" is actually pretty legit. While I do see my daughter doing some "boyish" things - she's much louder than my son, looooooves wrestling, and scrapes her knees climbing in-conquerable dirt hills, I can recognize that these behaviors in their extremes are mostly found in young boys. Yes, when my son does any of the previously mentioned things (being aggressive, not thinking about consequences...) I do think that when it's not simply him being a toddler of any gender, it is the fact that he is reverting to his primal, caveman, idiot manhood.

I suppose at the end of all this, I have to say...1) I am glad I'm not a boy. 2) I'm glad my son is not "all boy" but...partially girl? Huh. He's kind and more often than not, thinks about how others will feel, smart, and sensitive. And 3) I need more adult conversation in my life.

Life is a battlefield

I want you all to know that I think of you often. Usually when something ridiculous happens in my life (i.e. taking the kids to the grocery store, making it all the way through only to find that I left my wallet at home, throw the kids back in the car, drive home, retrieve wallet, wait in line at the grocery store again, pay for food and buy two organic sugar free lollipops for my kids for being such good sports, driving through somewhere for dinner because it's now too late to start dinner at home without for-sure meltdowns, just as I order hearing Charlie scream as she tries to wrench her lollipop out of her hair...etc). I begin to write a blog post in my head, imaging how I would describe events, what photos I would use, and how I could best spell words my children use in their own "lisps" and trial and error ways (Evan calls juggling "Jungle-ing" and is frequently annoyed that I can't "jungle" like Daddy). I think about how to describe my neighbor to really get you to understand how absurd some of the situations I am put in are. And then I feel guilt and decide never to post about my crazy neighbor.

Obviously, about 1/1,000 of those posts actually happen as I take a peek at this dusty blog. But it sure would be fun to pick it up again.

I was thinking yesterday about my house and how very much effort it takes to keep it how I want it. My family can tell you, it is very rarely actually that way (how I'd like it). And as I was thinking about this, I realized that not only what I've said before is true - my career now is full time Master Re-arranger - but also that my whole life now is just a series of battles. I do not mean, however, that this is an entirely negative thing. Some battles are good, just still a lot of work and I end up near-dead by the end of the day, good battles or bad.

Keeping the house clean is a battle (closer to a war). Your bathrooms are fighting against you, Lord knows your kitchen is fighting against you. Laundry is like a beast you are constantly trying to fend off. It grows heads faster than you can fold, that's for certain. Your children are cute little gremlins frolicking around, scattering debris wherever they wander. I am thinking of writing a children's book/series...first one would be called It Only Takes a Cracker. You can probably guess the gist of the book. Sometimes your children at not cute little gremlins, but rather emotional monsters, throwing themselves and their 0-60 toddler emotions around willy-nilly for you to try to catch and console.

There are many more battles and I'm sure you have some of your own in mind. It can be easy to let those battles get you down, discourage you, or overwhelm you, I know it happens to me. When I was thinking about it yesterday, my kids were both napping (love the same nap time!) which is a coveted time in this house. I guard that time with my life. Usually I use the first bit to do Downstairs Damage Control, Feed the Laundry Beast, Finally Eat/Finish My Lunch, and General Pick-Up. And lately once that's done, I just sit on the couch, coffee and some snack that will kill me someday in hand, and watch my very own television shows. No matter how long or short it lasts, it is bliss. But I still end up feeling a little guilty. Kind of with that naggy feeling of, I should be DOING something.

But as I was thinking this yesterday, I took a sip of my thrice reheated coffee and thought, No. I will not feel guilty. Maybe my house is not spotless, and yes, if you tell me you'll drop by in ten minutes time, I will panic and move at 10x my normal speed to get the house ready, maybe my son's hair is not always tamed, and maybe there is a constant load of laundry either in the washer, dryer, unfolded, or waiting to be put away. YES. But, I am ok with taking some "me" time in exchange. I am really ok with that. I want to look back on this time and think, "My house looked decent. My family was fed home cooked meals 98% of the time, my children were healthy and clean, we had fun together, and I wasn't overcooked every day."

Sometimes I just need to sit out part of the battle for a Ho-Ho and coffee, and maybe a little British murder mystery. And it would be that time right now. Soooo. Talk to you later.

h