5 Things on Friday: Girls Rule Edition

Over the past few weeks, I've had a series of odd experiences. It started with pregnant women. Three different expecting mothers have told me that they really hope they have boys. Then, I was with my mom when she ran into one of her friends. She told her friend that she had retired and was babysitting her granddaughters now. The woman responded, "Oh. And girls. You poor thing!" She was surrounded by little boys climbing in the cart, opening the freezer doors and pulling on her shirttail.

I'm confused. I mean, this isn't the 1840's. We don't live in a world where boys are an asset and girls are a liability. The general consensus seems to break down into two categories: 1. Girls are so haaard, and 2. If I don't live my life in a pink, ribbony, princessy world, I shouldn't have a girl.

So, today, I'm going to share

Five Reasons I Love Being a Mom to Girls*

1. Scent - I hear that boys smell bad. I don't have one, so I'm not sure, but Brynna's room smells like fruit salad and Maren's room smells like cherry blossom lotion. I don't foresee this changing around puberty. I mean, the specific scents may change. Maren may decide that she prefers Cucumber Melon and Brynna may decide she's really more a freesia girl, but basically I feel like they are always going to smell like a soap store. I mean, they sweat and then they get cleaned up. They like things to smell pretty. Also, they are never, ever going to smell like Axe and that is a huge blessing.
2. Freedom - Raising a girl means that eventually you're going to have to have conversations about equality and glass ceilings and pay discrepancies. If you have a four year old who is obsessed with Mary Poppins, you may have already discussed the suffragettes and why women weren't allowed to vote. But, even if women are still fighting the good fight to be whatever they want to be, little girls have won it. Maren? Maren loves trucks, motorcycles, taking things apart and this fall, she's going to play football. She also love hairbows, pretty dresses, necklaces and her Hello Kitty purse. That's okay. People may be sort of surprised by her, but no one makes it an issue. If you look at the opposite, say a boy who likes to play with dolls, wear pink and make tiny pastries, you are going to have to work your butt off to protect that kid. I stand by my children's right to be whoever they are, with no qualifiers. It just so happens that I got the easier job on that front.
3. All the same parts - I guess that the whole puberty discussion is a little more complicated with girls. I mean, I can see that. But you know what? I have experience with everything we have and will have to talk about. Bras? I know bras. Periods? Yep, got that covered. I am lucky that the girls' dad has stayed very involved, but as a single mom, I gotta say, I'm so much more comfortable with what's coming my way, knowing that I won't have to google anything. 
4. Bathroom cleanliness - The last time someone missed the toilet in my house? The last time a male lived in it. Same with tiny, scrappy hairs cemented to the sink bowl with toothpaste. Again for the new toilet paper roll laying on top of the old one. I still have to train them to take the bath mat out when they are done with their bath, put up their basket before they leave the bathroom and not leave wet towels on the floor, but comparatively? I've got it made.
5. Tea parties - I'll admit it: I prefer Matchbox cars to Barbie dolls, Lego's to Polly Pocket and Transformers to Littlest Pet Shop. Of course, referring to point the second up there, I have all of those things in my home. But for my money, the best thing to get roped into playing with your kids is tea party. Give me a dress up hat, an impossibly small cup and a half a plastic chicken on a petite plate any day. I will even dress up the teddy for you. Watching your little one very carefully poor imaginary tea into a cup that is roughly the size of a thimble and ask you, "One lump or two?" is a precious thing you will never forget. 

What about it, moms? Are girls really all that terrible? Is this just a new and exciting version of sexism? Or have I been too hard on the boys?

*It should be noted that I am neither pink, nor ribbony, nor princessy.