I featured a post on BlogHer Family last week that started out funny and eventually hit a chord with me.

And the same goes for Kindergarten. JP’s teacher will never get to know me the way his previous teachers’ have and she is the first of the many people JP will independently interact with outside of our home. From now on JP is in control of the message he sends to the world about who he is, where he comes from and what his family is like. All I can hope is that I’ve done a good enough job so that most people think he’s a good kid with caring parents who have taught him the importance of respect, manners and compassion. Parents who love him, man breasts and all.

Okay, so you have to read the whole post to understand the man breasts part, but the rest of it left me blinking at my screen. How very deeply I feel those words in the deep, hidden recesses of my soul.

It’s what I’ve been struggling with since BigBrother started Kindergarten. It’s why I haven’t met with his teacher to talk about our unique family unit. I’ve been absent from the classroom, knowing that BigBrother needs time and space away from me to be himself. When I am present, I am more of a distraction than a help. It’s just his personality (which differs greatly from LittleBrother, by the way). I’ve been letting him find his own way in his classroom, in his new reality. He’s been doing so well, and I am so proud of the boy he is growing into already.

He is in control of what he’s doing now. I think — I think — he’s doing a good job of showing what kind of family he comes from: loving, kind of quirky, funny, real. He’s a good boy. He’s a smart boy. He’s a loyal boy. He probably loves others a little too much, and that’s one of the crosses he has to bear. But I think he’s enjoying being himself, out from under my wing a little bit.

For those wondering, he hasn’t talked about his sister any less since starting Kindergarten. He specifically asked me when we were going to visit last week and he got mad at me when we were heading to YiaYia’s house instead of Munchkin’s house.

I’m learning from him as we travel this new journey together. If anything, I’m noticing — with joy — that he doesn’t seem to have my same anxiety about social situations. He has been diving head first into all number of new things lately without even looking back — except when he scores a goal to see if I’m watching.

And I always am.

 

I read an interesting post on BlogHer about gender differences. Boys are boys. Girls are girls. And while I get the total point of her post — sometimes you just want to laugh or, really, commiserate with someone who understands. Sometimes I love to rant with other moms of boys because I feel like they understand what I live with on a daily basis.

But remember: I had a girl. I placed her for adoption. And we have an open adoption relationship, complete with visits. So I get to see some of that other side of the coin.

That’s why this paragraph Renegade Mama shared on BlogHer really caught my attention:

We chatted about the differences between boys and girls, the way a girl at five seems so oddly capable of just doing a task (even a complicated one, like putting socks on without first throwing them across the room a few times, or sitting in a chair without tipping it backwards or otherwise flailing around). The lady behind the counter agreed, having mothered five boys. Then this blonde woman behind us, who we didn’t exactly invite into our little discussion I might add, gets all condescending and pipes up: “You know, I don’t think it’s a boy/girl thing. It’s just a person thing. It’s just an individual personality difference — it has nothing to do with being male or female. I raised a boy who is so sensitive and gentle. It’s just a human difference.”

I’d actually be inclined to agree with the nosy blonde. (Though I do agree she was nosy.)

Munchkin and BigBrother are strikingly similar in personality. They have their own gender identifying interests, of course: Munchkin dances, BigBrother loves any sport with a ball and turns everything into a gun. But otherwise? Neither can sit still at the table and during our last visit, we learned that the two of them sit off the side of their chair in the same exact manner. They’re both very bossy. And sensitive — don’t laugh at them. They both love to learn, to read. While I haven’t attended any of Munchkin’s parent-teacher conferences, I’m pretty sure she is a teacher pleaser, which BigBrother is too. BigBrother is also a general adult pleaser. He wants to do right, to please us with his actions. He puts his socks on the first time. He clears the table. He says please and thank you. But he does laugh at fart jokes. Then again, so do I.

I’m not saying that Munchkin and BigBrother are the same. They are not. There are all kinds of ways in which they differ. Some of that can be chalked up to gender. Some of that can be chalked up to being raised in separate households. And some of that can and should be chalked up to different personalities — that part of their human-ness.

But you cannot deny their similarities. Dee and I have been pretty shocked by them over the course of our past two visits. I was left to wonder, of course, if the two had been raised in the same household if they would be so similar. Because, honestly, I place a lot more weight in birth order personality traits than in gender oriented personality traits. I think I’m a stunning example of a woman with many supposed masculine traits but, really, those are — in my mind — more evidence of my first child birth order personality traits than any male vs. female issue. And so I’m left to wonder: If they were raised together, would the Munchkin be who she currently is and would BigBrother be who he is. (Point: While Munchkin is the firstborn, being raised separately, BigBrother is thus first born in this household. All of this gets mushy when you think about it too long, trust me.)

And if you want to get totally confusing: My two sons? Are as different as night and day. Loud and quiet. Bold and shy. Green and pink (no, really). Yes, again with the “everything is a gun” and laughing at fart jokes, but otherwise they are very, very different. (And I love it.)

It’s not a black and white issue by any means. I will be interested to see the differences and similarities the kids will exhibit over the years. It has definitely been eye-opening thus far.

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