I am surrounded by dudes. I married a man, I birthed two boys, I adopted a male puppy. Actually, I arranged to adopt a brown and white female puppy. I left for work that morning, expecting to come home to a sweet little lady pup. Instead, I came home to a black male puppy…the deck is firmly stacked against me.
By no means am I a girly-girl. My nails are for chewing, not painting. Make-up is for special occasions and work. Ponytails are forever. But even though I eschew many things that may be typically feminine, I am still not a part of this goofy, gross boys club. When I was pregnant, I didn’t really care if I had a boy or a girl, I knew enough to hope only for a baby who would sleep. Still, when that baby was brewing, I often saw myself with a mini me, a little girl, something familiar.
Well, I’ve spent the last 6 years navigating unfamiliar territory. In this wild land, arm punches can be traded like currency. Farts are funny, mom farts are HILARIOUS. Nature isn’t something to watch, it’s something to feel. This unfamiliar territory requires hands on experience. You won’t make it through this jungle without a scraped knee and dirt firmly caked under those unpolished nails. You may get away with standing on the sidelines for a while, soaking in the little bit of silence, but then a sticky, sweet, excitable little creature will somehow shimmy right up your body and drag you back in. I may have always lived in this land, but it’s my wild boys who have taken me from sitting under a tree reading, silently observing to really being in this world.
Life with the dudes is loud, it’s boisterous, it’s chaotic. Life with the dudes is smelly and messy and oh, so active. But sometimes life with the dudes is sweet and cuddly. It’s Easy Bake ovens and playing married. It’s My Little Ponies and making up songs. Life with the dudes is just perfect, as it would have been had it been a life with the girls.