Mom Rianne has little testosterone bombs at home
For over seven years, I have been with a real man's man
, the kind who needs to work with his hands, preferably outdoors, working with all sorts of tools and cranes whose names I don't even know, and likes to come home as dirty as possible. A man who always steps over the garbage bags instead of picking them up... And lets his beard grow out too. Oh yes, he also sits every evening with his hand in his pants because 'it's relaxing'. Or sits with his legs wide apart because otherwise 'it sticks'. And he never stops talking about football, can't miss a single match, but is remarkably brief about things that matter. And yes, I love those real men. But sometimes I don't understand them at all. Maybe I should step over it too (just like he does with those garbage bags). Five years ago, we had a son, Noud. And you catch those little boys right away, no matter how small they are, plenty of testosterone present.
“What is testosterone, actually?”
, I wonder. I'll look it up. Testosterone is a sex hormone. It is a compound of testis (Latin for testicle) and steroid (Source: Wikipedia). “Yes, yes, we read on”. Testosterone is also called the macho hormone. This hormone is associated with competition and dominance. Look! That's more like it.
Absolutely everything is a competition
It starts with who is the fastest and the biggest and the strongest, and at some point changes into 'who can drink the most beer' or 'who can score with the most women'. In addition, little boys always come home dirty, have loved fire(works) and their penis from a young age and also like to talk about it openly. And that roughhousing or rather just hitting and kicking... I will never understand it. As long as everything goes as hard and as fast as possible.
Last year I was pregnant again with a boy
I was immediately dubbed a true boy's mom and we were going to be a male-dominated family. I was overjoyed with it, as I too had slowly become accustomed to all that masculinity. Stomping in the mud, playing football, all those cars and train tracks you trip over at home, building towers with blocks and lego, and taking a child to school in a knight, Spiderman, Batman costume. I don't mind at all. And no, I'm definitely not old-fashioned, because my son can certainly play with dolls, wear nail polish or eat from a pink lunchbox, but it seems to be ingrained early on. Those real boy things. And I love it.
Then we wanted a pet
, it turned out to be a kitten. And of course, it had to be a male. Because a pet must also maintain our testosterone levels after all. And he too lies sprawled out on the couch every evening, scratches his crotch, and always comes home dirty.
So we remained a male household, with my husband, 2 little boys, and a male cat. Now, just over a year after the birth of our second boy, I was fortunate to become pregnant again. And three weeks ago, the moment arrived, the gender reveal ultrasound. My husband immediately thought he saw another penis (apparently, it also has something cool and masculine about it, that a man can make boys). But I had looked a bit more into the differences between a boy and a girl in early pregnancy. And there were three lines visible... IT'S A GIRL!
Yes, I am pregnant with a daughter
I am no longer alone, another woman is being added to our male household. What a delightful idea! I am no longer a boys_mom (my Instagram name until three weeks ago), but the name d.rietje has come about. Rie, as many people call me in short, and already a proud mom of three. And secretly, I've been bringing some pink into the house.
* our second child, son Joep, passed away one day after his birth.
RIANNE (fancy a peek!? Click here for her Instagram)
