Family Movie Night

Life with boys is not what I expected when I decided to become a mom - sure, I knew I couldn't choose my kids' gender, but I was convinced I could raise my kids in a neutral way AND fulfill my maternal fantasies. So I couldn't frenchbraid their hair, but I could read them the Little House books - wrong, they preferred Captain Underpants. I bought them dolls and stuffed animals - they used the toys as guns. I'm gradually learning it's hard-wired, no matter how hard I try.
And it's not like ours is a macho, athletic household. My kids don't know anything about sports - we won box seats to a Giants' game, and they were more interested in the cotton-candy vendor than the action. (Other than Ben noticing a typical Barry Bonds move, not really hustling to run for a potential single, and very loudly he piped up, "That guy there isn't very good!") Ben takes drum lessons, David does theater and takes dance class, but they still have a boys' sense of humor, no matter how hard I try to be a civilizing influence. For example, David has invented a game where he tacks on an inappropriate phrase to the end of the title of songs from musicals. (His current favorite is adding " . . . in my pants" to classic musicals like Damn Yankees, so you get "Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets . . . in my pants", and so on.) (Okay, I shouldn't laugh, but I've got to give him credit for an originality!)
Our recent family movie night was a great illustration of life in a boy-dominated household. We couldn’t agree which t.v. movie to watch, because I wanted Steel Magnolias (southern women bonding in the beauty parlor with great sarcastic oneliners!), but the boys preferred Alien Resurrection (the REALLY violent one in the series, where a cloned Sigourney Weaver gives birth to the ultimate monster child, and saves the world with Winona Ryder as an android). We ended up compromising by flipping back & forth between the two, which produced a hybrid I called "Magnolia Resurrection" -
"Ripley? You’re alive? I guess this means I’ll have to kill you."
"If you can’t say anything nice about anyone, come sit next to me!"
"Keep away from me, you disgusting slimy alien ."
"Ewww, that woman needs some serious lycra on those thighs . . . . "
"What are we gonna do? The aliens are escaping!"
"That boy is so confused he don’t know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt!"

I decided to put the movie hybrid idea into my comedy show, but when I told the boys they immediately corrected me and said, "No, mom, what would be really funny is a movie called 'Alien Erection'. . . .". (I'll leave the ensuring gestures and sound effects to your imagination.) Meanwhile, I'm going to go re-read Little Women and see if the neighbor's daughter will let me do her hair . . . .

Boys and snails and puppy dog tails

I went to a meeting the other night, where the hostess had put out a lovely display of appetizers, assorted drinks, and plates which all actually matched. When one of the attendees complimented her on her lovely home, her response was to apologize that she hadn’t had time to clean the bathroom, because of some work deadlines and a new puppy. So naturally I had to go use the bathroom to see for myself – it was neater than a bathroom has ever dreamed of being in my house! (The tiny pawprint on the bathmat even looked artistic.) Several of the childless women at the meeting compared notes on their pets and agreed it was great practice for when they eventually had kids.

I kept myself from laughing out loud, but only with difficulty. I mean, you can train a dog to do all sorts of things for an occasional biscuit or pat on the head, but I have yet to come up with a bribe (or punishment) that will ensure my boys flush the toilet, much less put the seat down. Sure, puppies need training and company and supervision when they’re young, but they’re housebroken at 2 or 3 months – honey, it takes a BIT longer with a human. If your dog needs a bath, you give him one (or take him to the groomers), you don’t have to convince him that after a day including PE., ultimate frisbee, and walking home from the bus, he smells terrible. and needs to shower, and by the way, please remember to wash under his arm. Dogs don’t need help with homework, they don’t need rides to rehearsals or lessons or practice (or require 5 cross-referenced carpools), and they never say, “Eww, dog food again? I hate this brand!” (However, in fairness to my boys, they’ve never chewed up any of my shoes or burrowed in the kitchen garbage.)

So while I chuckle at dog owners who really think they're prepared for motherhood, I'm glad I have both boys and a dog, and there is nothing sweeter than cuddling with a sleepy boy on one side and an affectionate mutt terrier on the other side, even if none of my appetizer plates match and my downstairs bathroom is a science project.