I’m Not a Swiftie: Thoughts From a Boy Mom

I have never been a Taylor Swift fan. It’s not because I wouldn’t like to be or because I don’t like her music. I think she has been smart business-wise. She seems pretty fierce, actually. I have watched so many Eras Tour reels and stories recently. I have been a part of a lot of online wardrobe discussions, seen all the bracelets made, noted the hotel and parking advice. Yet, I did not get to experience being in the room with thousands of tearful, adoring T Swift fans.  

I think it’s because I am a boy mom. This is another example of sparkly, shiny fun I am not having. Don’t get me wrong, boy stuff is fun too, just not in the same way…obviously.  I have been to lots of sports events. Been the one at the table to recognize Justin Tuck (defensive end Notre Dame, NY Giants, Raiders. That seriously impressed Jim and my father-in-law.)  Seen a lot of wild animal game camera footage.  Know so many random sports facts. 

Boys can recall all the stats of a player that you have probably never heard of.  The NCAA basketball bracket discussion is not as quite as interesting as the concert wardrobe ones, but it is fun to hear the boys (including their daddy) talk with such seriousness about the assets and weaknesses of each team. Fantasy football is also entertaining…as long as I don’t have to have my own team. For a while this fall we were convinced that Van was going to lose in his league and be forced to shave his head. It was a playoff miracle that saved him.   

Boys really are fascinating. I have learned so much from mine, especially things I would never have appreciated if I didn’t live in a house full of them. I know for a fact that I would not be as obsessed with wildlife without them.  And that’s something that brings great joy to my life.  

If I had a house full of girls…

• I would never have seen a bird dog work a field.  
• After Thanksgiving I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help put out quail for our family to hunt. (Don’t @ me about this. We had a blast and quail is delicious.  Besides there were lots of survivors.) 
• I might not know the peace and calm of a deer stand. 
• I probably wouldn’t have seen the GoPro footage of the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico somewhere off the coast of Panama City Beach, FL. (Love to watch the fish. Some of those things are hilarious and so curious. We should probably post those videos. That will of course be the thing I post that goes viral.)

Sometimes I wish I had an ally amongst all this testosterone.  Someone to comb the racks of TJ Maxx with.  A partner in crime strolling along W57^th Street between 6^th and Madison in New York.  (I’m sure Jim is relieved that I don’t have this partner in crime…although it would mean he wouldn’t have to serve in that roll…but that would also probably be way more expensive.)  A daughter to pal around with while Jim is off with the boys would be nice.

Over the course of the past 20 years of being a boy mom, there have been times when I have felt left out. They do not get excited about makeup and skincare and pretty sheets or our metallic living room wallpaper. It’s hard being the only female in the house during a fishing or hunting weekend. I don’t always think the same things are funny as a group of men and boys. Bathroom humor being one of them. Or slightly off-color jokes. I finally quit tagging along. This was a good decision; I love alone time. But we had to make the rule that what happens at the country with dad and his friends stays at the country with dad and his friends. I guess I should be glad that the boys feel comfortable enough with me that they sometimes share things that I don’t really want to hear.   

I don’t have any personal experience to compare mothering boys and girls. My views are very one-sided. And I realize that not all children are the same no matter the gender. My boys are different from yours. All I can speak to is the melting that happened when each little baby boy was laid on my chest for the first time and the way they said mama as a toddler. Or the feeling of a pudgy hand in mine. The way they trusted that for a while mama knew best. The joy they have when I bake. The surprise that came when the first one could look down at me, and then another, and then another. Only one more to go before I am the shortest person in the house. I can attest to the fact that a big boy hug is just as good as a baby boy hug. 

All in all I can deal with missing American Girl and pedicure birthday parties. I hope that the next time there is a Taylor Swift tour someone will invite me to tag along. I wouldn’t change a thing about being the mother to the Trotter boys. Turns out it’s pretty good to be Queen of the House of Trotter.

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