So, apparently amomamongmen might also be a teensy bit a manamongmen

I’m about to get real scientific on your ass. Now, this isn’t stuff I personally understand, but I can regurgitate it from various scientific sources.

So the deal is this: now scientists think that when a woman is pregnant, cells from the fetus actually travel up into her brain and then survive there FOREVER. So, women who were pregnant with boys got some of that good ol’ male DNA lodged all up in their brains and then the baby popped out, but the DNA didn’t. That male DNA is now part of the woman’s brain. So, imagine that times three. Yeah, go ahead. I am practically a man.

I started thinking about the negatives and positives of this new tidbit of scientific discovery and came up with a fairly comprehensive list of the drawbacks and benefits of being some sort of brain based hermaphrodite.

I’m going to break it down into two easy to understand categories: 

Things I SO don’t want to inherit from my sons and Ways I’d use that male DNA to kick ass

Things I SO don’t want to inherit from my sons:

1. Unquestionable immunity to the smell of urine.

2. Blatant disregard for the conventions of hand washing.

3. Obsession from birth with things that go “vroom” and things that can be forced to roll.

4. Passion for camouflage. Just not a good look for a mom who has no position with the U.S. armed forces. Much easier for a nine year old boy to pull off, especially while wearing a t-shirt that he has Sharpied himself to say “made in the armee”.

5. Which brings us to fashion sense. Inability to recognize poor wardrobe choices. Just because you own a red shirt and red shorts doesn’t mean you need to wear them at the same time. Ditto a camo shirt and camo pants.

6. Unwillingness to relegate markers to paper. Markers are drawn to my sons’ skin like metal filings to a magnet. Actually, given the time they would probably find a way to use said filings in a completely inappropriate way that would probably discolor their skin.

7. Aversion to showering. But, just to mix things up a little, see number 2 below.

8. Inability to read emotions. “You’re crying Mom. Get me a snack.”

Ways I’d use that male DNA to kick ass

1. Two words: body confidence. In their little minds they are perfect. Their bodies do exactly what they’re supposed to: run, jump, climb, sword fight, punch, etc. etc. etc. Does it matter if they got a little paunch? Does it matter that they’re kinda shrimpy or a little skinny? No, not at all. And just to prove it to you, they’ll jump around the living room naked so you can see how awesome it is to have a penis.

2. Despite number 7 above, they never have a bad hair day. I’d like a piece of that.

3. View of Self. My sons? They’re rock stars. They can do anything they want to, eschewing physical or biological boundaries. Be a cheetah when they grow up? Why not. Beat daddy in a race around the yard? Duh. Become a jedi? Did it; last year. Count super high? So I missed 14, what’s it to you? Whatever they picture themselves doing, consider it done. 

4. Independence. Big is an independent guy, always has been. He came home one day from fourth grade and reported to me that some asshole kid had said that he didn’t want to be friends with him. My reaction: automatic heartbreak. His reaction: I didn’t want to be friends with him anyway. Can I have a snack Mom?

5. Knowing how to work a room. Let’s talk about Middle for a sec. That boy is Mr. Popularity, has been since preschool. When I went to volunteer in his Kindergarten class last year, I saw first hand the fawning that takes place, especially from the female demographic. I experienced some of it secondhand when I was confronted by a five year old girl with a tall, thin, super-tressed mom. “Are you Middle’s mom?” she asks. I nod. “You’re pretty.” Whatever prep work Middle did buttering up his classmates I thank him for it. The biggest compliment I hear from my own kids is “Wow, you can read anything!”

6. Energy! Unless Little has been getting four hour energy drinks on the black market or has a Red Bull dealer meeting him on the playground, that kid is just naturally a doer. Walk around the zoo? Not if you can run! Battle zombies in the backyard for two hours? Just set me up with a sippy cup of chocolate milk and I’m good to go! The boys doesn’t stop, until he does.

7. Head. Pillow. Sleep. Wake up at 6:30 ready to do it all again.



The last boy, the one that put me over the edge into Manhood.

What would life be like for all us moms if we loved our bodies, believed in ourselves, didn’t care what other people thought of us, followed our hearts and had bitchin’ hairdos without actually doing anything but sleeping? Maybe as the mother of three perfect, amazing rock star sons, it’s my destiny to find out.


4 Responses to “So, apparently amomamongmen might also be a teensy bit a manamongmen”

  1. 1 Amy
    October 12, 2012 at 8:01 pm

    Agree, Agree, Agree… A spot on analysis of boy-dom. Diet Coke nearly exited through my nose…

  2. 2 Susan
    October 12, 2012 at 8:01 pm

    I want some of this confidence! —> “I didn’t want to be friends with him anyway. Can I have a snack Mom?”

    Beautiful photo and perfectly punctuated blog post.

  3. October 12, 2012 at 8:12 pm

    When I read that title I thought I might be in for a surprise upon my return home this afternoon from work. I’m glad to hear it’s not going to be like that.

    That’s a crazy scientific piece of trivia. I suppose it has something to do with helping relate to boys, or perhaps it gives you a shortcut to the skills needed to successfully engage in hand-to-hand combat?

    Wife, I love you!


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now what’s that now?

what’s done is done


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