YES, gender equality and all the feminism in the world. YES, to not leading them straight to the superhero section at Walmart. YES, to letting them decide what interests them. YES, to not telling our sons that being tough makes them a man.

But lets step away from the revolutionary rants for a second (as much as we admittedly love them) and focus on what I know best: my boy. Over the past four years, I’ve figured out that there are some indelible motherhood truths that apply exclusively to boy-moms. Here are some of the ones that stand out.

(Super glamorous, I promise.)
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At some point in infancy, your kid has given himself, or you, the golden shower.

You spend way too much money on Marvel themed band-aids.

Tucking in miniature hard-ons is just a regular part of your morning routine.

You say, “Don’t fart on people! It’s not funny,” way more often than you’d like.

You find yourself wondering what to make for “second” breakfast.

You’ve corrected Bagina to Vagina about 100 times, and go into full detail about balls and penises in public bathrooms, while little old ladies smirk as they wash their hands.

9 times out of 10 when you’re changing into your bra there’s a little person giggling, pointing, and saying “Booooobies”.

Your 4-year-old legitimately eats more than you in a day, and you’re thinking about buying shares in Loblaws.

Your shoulders and neck are sore every night after being a human rock climbing wall all day.

You’re fully able to engage in a ninja battle while blow-drying your hair.

You have living proof that the man cold is something they’re born with.

(Along with selective hearing.)

You no longer need an instruction manual to build a Batman and Joker Lego set, and know every possible scenario of why The Joker is in jail. Again.

Your belly is subject to zerberts on a regular basis (especially poolside.)

 
You say, “we don’t touch our penises in public,” about 250 times a day.
 
You indifferently talk over a looming Hulk attack while on a conference call.
 
You no longer flinch when your kid jumps from sofa – to chair – to table – to kitchen island, while sporting a makeshift hand-towel cape.
 
Walking into the bathroom and getting surprise-attacked by a T-Rex with q-tip claws is now part of your morning beauty routine.
 

You have nailed the art of acting really, really excited about how much poo your kid expelled during his last trip to the toilet.

 
Using your body as a human car / boat / motorcycle / horse / dinosaur has now become your only form of exercise.

Adding a rubber tarantula from under your pillow to a pile of other plastic bugs, is just a regular part of making your bed.

You occasionally sport a purple and blue shiner from being head-butted.

Chasing a naked streaker through the house before bath time is just another day at the office.

You get told you’re the most beautiful “hunny bun” in the world every day while getting your hair stroked.

You get to revel in the fact that you are your sons first (and most likely forever) love…  that’s the best part of it all.

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Featured photo by Tak Cheong Pun