Don’t dare pity me for having four boys!
AfeW weeks after my twin boys, Zachary and Jonah, were born I strapped them into their buggy and rounded up their big brothers Jacob and Max, then aged five and three, for a walk in the park.
I was so proud of my four beautiful sons that I felt as though my heart might burst. I finally had the perfect family.
But my happy bubble was popped by an elderly lady who peered into the buggy and asked: ‘Two more boys?’ When I said yes, she said: ‘Never mind, better luck next time,’ before shuffling off.
I was deeply upset, although not that surprised. It was just further proof of something that has been clear since the day I had Jacob, now 14: how deeply our society is prejudiced against boys.
Things have come full circle from the days when a mother who produced a brood of strapping young men was showered with compliments. Now the news you have only sons is met with commiserations. There’s an unthinking — and unkind — assumption boys are second best.
Most assume I had the twins in an attempt to ‘complete’ my family with a girl. But I simply yearned for another baby. I’d always wanted boys, but either gender would have been fine.
I feel for Coleen Rooney, who has just joined the club of mums with four sons. Like me, she’ll soon be fending off rude questions about whether she’s desperate to hit the pink jackpot by ‘trying again’ for a girl. Well, I hope Coleen joins me in shouting at every busybody who asks: ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I am very happy with my boys.’
I’ve lost count of the people — mostly women — who’ve refused to believe I could possibly love my sons as much as I would a daughter. But that’s nonsense. Valentine’s Day has just passed, and with it the latest reminder of why I love being the mother of four boys. My thoughtful husband bought me roses and champagne, but the card that truly touched my heart was made by my youngest son, nine-year-old Zachary.
Covered with dozens of purple felt-tip kisses, it listed all the reasons he loves me, ending by saying he could ‘go on with much more, but there wouldn’t be enough paper in the world’.
YOU will never feel as adored as when you are a mum to boys. As soon as he learned to write, my eldest, Jacob, used to leave clues around the house leading to little notes or presents for me.
I still have one I found under my pillow when he was six, which reads: ‘To Mummy, there is not a single thing that I love more than you. You blow my heart away. You are the best. from J.’
If I get my hair or nails done, my husband will be oblivious, but without fail one of the boys will pipe up with a compliment. every mealtime they fight over who gets to sit next to me.
My eldest, who towers over me, insists on carrying my shopping. I come home from work to a gaggle of excited boys. We even bought a male dog, as I wasn’t sure I wanted another girl in the house even if she was canine.
Outside our home, though, the cult of the girl only grows. even former football WAG Danielle Lloyd failed to provoke outrage when she admitted she was considering using gender selection to ensure her fifth child was a girl, after feeling disappointed her fourth was a boy. I wonder how that will make him feel when he’s older? I am sick of being made to feel as if I won the booby prize because I have only boys. But I am even more tired of my sons being made to feel as if they are second-class citizens because they had the misfortune to be born male.
I was recently working on a project to promote science and technology careers to girls. A laudable aim, but when I spoke to my son Jacob about it, he said: ‘Mum I think your work is done, our teachers do nothing but encourage girls to get jobs in science now.’
There’s nothing wrong with that, but it overlooks the fact that when it comes to underperforming at school and in life, it’s not girls we need to worry about. Boys are three times as likely to be excluded from school and consistently do worse than girls academically.
My middle son, Max, 12, is a beautiful singer, but he always felt uncomfortable as one of the few boys in his school choir. Boys were just not made welcome.
Meanwhile there are teams at school for girls to play sports like football and cricket — yet no dance troupes for boys.
So much of our education system is based around female strengths. Studies show that young children with good self-discipline — for example raising their hands to answer questions, listening and following instructions — do better at primary school.
These are traits that girls develop much faster than boys, setting them up for academic and career success.
It’s no better when they grow up — men report significantly lower life satisfaction than women and account for threequarters of all suicides; it’s the biggest cause of death for men under 45. Men are also more likely to end up homeless, drug or alcohol dependent. Is it any wonder, when we have such a low opinion of them?
A recent survey revealed women are twice as likely to want a daughter as a son. I assume they imagine a daughter will mean a life filled with pretty dresses, shopping trips and female bonding. Boys meanwhile are seen as noisy, dirty and violent.
Well, not in my experience. Yes, when they were tiny they were full of limitless energy. While girls would play nicely for hours, my boys had to be taken for regular runs to let off steam. But that didn’t make them less lovable.
NOW they are becoming teenagers, the tables are turning. My sons’ worst expression of puberty is they grunt more than they speak. Many friends with girls are being subjected to icy disdain mixed with the explosive rows typical of mother- daughter relationships during this hormonal time.
I blush to recall how nasty I was at 13. I rowed with my mother about everything from cooking to clothes. I remember once threatening to jump out of my bedroom window if she didn’t let me call my boyfriend. She was obviously distraught.
By contrast, the odd grump and monosyllabic exchanges I get from my older boys are a walk in the park. Perhaps women longing for girls should be careful what they wish for.
But none of this stops boys getting a bad press. Recently I was chatting to a girlfriend about how well a mutual friend had cared for her dying dad. She leaned over and stroked my arm, saying: ‘ You’d better hope you get a nice daughter- in- law, because you don’t have any daughters to look after you when you’re old.’
I was furious. Why did she assume my boys would desert me, but a daughter never would? I know plenty of men who care for their elderly parents, and women who never bother to call.
These days, girls are endlessly told they can be whatever they want to be. It isn’t so easy for boys. My boys are sensitive, empathetic and not the slightest bit interested in football. But rather than being praised for not conforming to tired, macho stereotypes, they have been teased and bullied.
I wanted to sob when my eldest son caved in and gave up ballet after two years of all the girls — and their mothers — pointedly freezing out this male interloper in their world of pink tutus.
It broke my heart when Zachary’s classmates teased him as he showed off the pink teddy bear in a sparkly dress he had made for his fifth birthday at Build-A-Bear Workshop. It was unbearable to hear Max tell me he spent every playtime alone because he didn’t play football. It seems boys must still be boys.
That’s why I believe it’s about time us mums of boys stuck up for our sons. I’m sure that having girls is lovely, but I really, truly don’t think my family would be improved by the addition of a daughter.
I adore my four boys and I’m confident they will grow into strong, loving men who will take care of me in my dotage.
for now, they fill my life with noise, Lego bricks, lost socks, silly jokes and boundless joy. So to everyone who asks whether I secretly want a girl, the answer is a resounding: ‘No’.