Boys will always be boys. I don’t intend to read unsportsmanlike, but in the short but elicit life I’ve lived, I have interacted with boys long enough to fathom so. I got two young brothers, an elder brother in-law, a husband and several of their friends, enough for my “Boys will always be boys recipé”.
Well, like charity does indeed begin at home, so does today’s piece. My younger brother, who just turned 18, was very busy in his childhood. He stole notes from mom’s purse, hung onto vehicles in transit, severally threw items at me and endlessly fought my elder sister. A whip of boarding school slowed him down a bit. Competition struck a busy bee right through him and I thank God he’s currently hiding his head in books. My youngest brother was a little cooler. Well, he didn’t hang on to moving trucks and all. He enjoyed shoving our cat into bags and hiding it in the fridge. I still don’t believe he once convinced me to wash up the poor thing and rinse it in the toilet bowl, you know, by flashing the toilet with the cover on so it doesn’t jump out? He enjoyed messing around with our minds and I won’t brag the boy’s a genius. He asks weird questions and enjoys himself as he watches us wriggle our way out of them. My brother in-law…well that’s a story for a never coming day.
My husband has several friends. I like to call them ‘The boys’. I stopped waving the red flag at my young brothers when I encountered ‘The boys’ since I realised they are very similar regardless of their ages. The all love to keep their rooms messy, eat a lot, hate washing socks, and are allergic to cold bath water. When I was expecting Pesh, ‘The boys’ scared the hell out of me with the astonishing ideas they had, now that they would all be uncles.
They all wanted to test the theory that babies have a very strong grip. This they would action by hanging poor baby on the line by her hands and see if she’d fall. I became very alert. No one knew how to tie a diaper the right side up but they all bragged about how they were qualified and I’d have nothing to worry about. Crap, my hubby also promised to make tea with my breast milk! How they think!
When I was due and was rushed to hospital, I was not shocked to discover that ‘The boys’ camped at the hospital’s packing lot in a tour Nissan generously offered by one of them. They were armed with lots of liquor, food and party moods. They celebrated my labour pains, celebrated my giving birth and totally knocked themselves out when they heard it was a baby girl. By morning they drove home all in a drunken stupor. My husband included. Like you I had no words to describe that ‘Auspicious occasion’.
I like ‘The boys’ a lot though despite all their apprehensible insanity. I have watched them stand up for each other and share their problems. They are much organised in their brainsick escapades and are firm pillars of each other. It’s impressive that ‘The boys’ organised a welcoming party for Pesh when she was barely two weeks old. The girls’ duty was simply to attend and have fun. It was such a success that left me wide-mouthed at their ability to plan and execute in time.
‘The boys’ respect each other’s privacy and hardly get offended when criticized by another. They will definitely step in front of the truck for each other and laugh together when busted. They will not cry with you. No. ‘The boys’ never cry even when alone, but they will make you let the pain go. The will talk through the hard-nut issues and eventually turn them into hilarious jokes. I am not exaggerating. I am just a girl who happens to be lucky enough to experience true friendship from the other side of my world.
Through ‘The boys’ I have learnt true friendship. I borrow many of their virtues and use them on my friends; I know ‘The boys’ will not call you just to say hi…unless they had a nightmare about you, but they will call to invite you for a gig and they will foot the bill. For them your presence is important. They know you would do the same. I have learnt to give to Caesar what I his. So I give credit where it deems fit and I’m not selfish. I say this because like I said, I’m just a girl. I don’t have many girl friends but I know we girls can hate on each other to an extent of having, not just frienemies but enemies. We can hate to the core of our souls and swear by the dead never to make up. We can hate to an extent of stealing each other’s boyfriends and husbands. It’s painful I know, but true. We can play foul games on each other, be pretentious friends and help each other shoot ourselves in the foot. It pains too much… I think I just dropped a tear. Sh*t!
I’m not saying boys are perfect or that we girls are horrible. No. We are good. We know how to stand for each other and can encourage each other. We know when one needs a hug and ladies! Don’t we make perfect mothers! Kudos for that. We are superwomen. We manage homes, work and in-laws. Long live women!
But I feel we need to borrow a few ingredients from the gents’ recipe to help us hate with a limit or not hate at all and we’ll hit the sky. I have already and it works. Though I constantly call to check up on quiet pals unlike our brothers, I also celebrate with my sisters especially when they have weddings or babies. I visit those who are detained in hospitals and make as many people as I can smile. I don’t do so much as I’d wish but I try. So my appreciation today goes to ‘The Boys’. Your good deeds cover up for your untidy surroundings. As for the sisters, just before you strangle me (I know many of you don’t get along with boy-groups of your dudes) watch this space as next time, the men will get something to ponder on. Let’s be good this month especially since my birthday lies within!