Gender Wars

On the spectrum of tomboy to girly girl, I would describe myself as leaning well to the right (since I wrote tomboy of on the left and girly to the, well, you get the picture). As a kid, I played with dolls and Fashion Plates, and planned my wedding a frillion times over. My mother insists that I refused to wear pants, that only dresses would do (apparently I was high maintenance at the beginning, something I try not to be, too much, although others (ahem, Husband) would disagree from time to time). I can’t climb a tree to save my life. I was on the girls’ basketball team for a hot minute before I realized I wasn’t coordinated enough to bounce a ball and walk at the same time. I still hate to sweat.

When my son was born, and I say this in a spirit of brutal truthiness, I had a pang of disappointment that he wasn’t a girl. Not that I didn’t love him, but I didn’t think I’d have an idea what to do with a boy. All my baby dolls were girls.

Fast forward to today. Sammy is looking down the barrel of his fifth birthday, and Sabrina is 15 months old. Having been through, as a mom, 4 boy birthdays, 1 girl birthday, and 4 boy-only Christmases, 1 all gender Christmas, and a slew of activities of all kinds, I am shocked to discover that the boy stuff has come easier for me. I remember going to my first kids’ clothing sale after Sabrina came along. Boys’ clothes were so simple – pants, shorts, shirts. So adorable, and I picked up a ton of things I knew my boy would pull off with his particularly Sammy flair. And then I went to the girls’ racks. And had a panic attack.

Too many choices! Dresses, skirts, pants, leggings, shirts, sweaters, accessories (seriously, for newborns!). Outfits of every conceivable combination. And then there was the issue of seasons – sundresses, short sleeve dresses, long sleeve dresses, light and airy fabrics, heavy and warm fabrics, jackets, wraps. I may have been dressing myself for a few decades, but I did not have the faintest clue what to buy for my baby girl.

So many times I’ve found myself at the store, finding 10 things for Sammy for every 1 for Sabrina. Part of it is that I’ve been on the boy side longer, and part of it is that Sammy can express his likes and dislikes more specifically. And really, there is a finite set of options for boys. Perhaps that is by society’s design, but I am grateful. One world of confusion is plenty.

It has gotten better over time. In the last 3 shopping excursions, I’ve come home with super cute outfits for my little ladybug of a munchkin, and just a few things for my rapidly elongating bean sprout boy. Toys are still a stumper though. I think that’s mostly a second child issue, since we already have a lot of baby and educational toys from the first time around. And it’s an age issue as well. My mind is certainly fuzzy, but I seem to recall a similar Oh Dear God, What Do I Buy This Child That He Won’t Instantly Abandon or Throw at Me terror when faced with procuring gifts for my son’s first birthday. Soon enough, she’ll be demand in specific detail exactly which doll or stuffed animal she’s eyeing, and then I’ll look back wistfully on the days when I pulled out my hair picked things out for her. I’m not in any hurry for that day.