Before I had kids I wanted two, a boy and then a girl. Well, we all know it doesn’t exactly work that way and I was blessed with three beautiful boys, now ages 3, 20 months & 3 months.
There is a huge list of stereotypes when it comes to raising boys. Some I knew about and stupidly believed before I had my children and others I thought were a joke right off the bat.
Here are just a few of the most common male stereotypes and reasons why they’re basically rubbish.
Boys are tough. They don’t cry and they don’t show emotion.
My middle child is a stereotypical rough nut. He’ll take a hit and keep on going. My eldest on the other hand is a sensitive soul. He can give it but he definitely cannot take it. He once told me that I didn’t need to be sad that I wasn’t having anymore babies because he would be my baby forever.
Boys are like human garbage disposals, eating fast and eating lots.
In all fairness, they haven’t hit puberty yet so this one may still happen. Trying to get my kids to eat their dinner is like asking my husband to take out the trash – if it happens it takes way longer than it should. Oh, actually I lie – if dinner consisted of chocolate and lollies it would be gone faster than you can say ‘eat whatever you want, mummy has a headache’.
Boys wear blues and greens.
This one is ridiculous. My kids can rock their colours. Yellow and orange are gorgeous against their skin. Yes blue and green look amazing too, and red, oh let’s face it – they could wear a garbage bag and I’d still want to show them off to the world. It’s sad, but it’s only a few short years before what they want to wear is dictated by what their friends at school say is ‘in’, cover them in colour while you can.
Boys are fearless and climb everything.
Some are. Again, my middle child is a daredevil. He will be the first with a broken bone. My eldest, not so much. He is cautious and careful. Thank goodness. Let’s hope the baby takes after his biggest brother here.
Boys only like to play with dinosaurs, trucks and planes.
My boys love all of those things. They also love their play kitchen, drawing, and playing with their babies. I love watching them play daddies, pushing their dolls (and sometimes each other) around in their toy pram.
Boys don’t need to know how to cook or do laundry.
The hell they don’t. My boys love helping with the washing and making dinner. Sure the folding doesn’t always stay folded long, and dinner takes a little longer to prepare, but it teaches them valuable life skills and their future partners won’t hate us.
When men find partners they no longer need their mothers.
I hope this one isn’t true. I suppose it’s up to me to ensure that our bond is strong enough to continue after they find love. I have three shots at it, I like those odds.
I think it’s clear, stereotypes are rubbish. If a boy likes dinosaurs and trucks it isn’t because he’s a boy – it’s because he simply likes dinosaurs and trucks.
One of my boys likes singing, drawing and cars. One likes dancing, bikes and dirt. And one likes sleep, blowing raspberries and breastfeeding (let’s hope he grows out of 2 of those at some point).
They are all amazing, they are all special, and they are all mine.