I've come to a startling conclusion today: There is no one in the world who can make you feel more girly than a 3-year old boy. When I fantasized about my life as a parent, the fantasies always included at least one boy. I was convinced (prior to Jack) that boys are more fun; mostly because I'm not a girly girl. I like video games, playing sports, being outside, fixing things, burping, drinking beer and being competitive--and the biggest thing of all--farts make me laugh. A lot. So I figured that I would feel most at home in in a house of boys.
Well, my house of testosterone came crashing down on me today when Jack proceeded to scream from across the room, "CHOCOLATE PUNCH!" and then run at me full-speed and sock me in the shoulder. HARD. I had to explain: Girl's don't like to be punched. EVER. And as I realized how sexually biased that sounded (sorry Laila Ali!) it really hit me--I am girly! The tendencies in myself that I just assumed were smart (putting my clothes away, always smelling nice, not wrestling 24/7, not picking my nose, not screaming in the house or throwing things in a rage) were really my more feminine traits...I had just, until now, mistaken them for plain old intelligence. I underestimated my innate femininity because I don't wear makeup everyday or always wear "cute" clothes...but that isn't all that makes up a female. Durh. And how ironic that it took several punches to the shoulder and body to make me feel like a natural woman.
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