Action Princesses Save the Day

Three kids is only one more than two. I know, it's simple math.  It's amazing how hard that one extra kid can make parenting sometimes, especially now that we're outnumbered and none of our kids are what you'd call sedate, but it's just one more kid.

Yet, the real difference between two and three is how people react to seeing me out and about with my three girls. I was mom to two girls for four years before number three joined the troop, so I've noticed the difference in commentary and reaction from the judging public (and it's amazing how many people feel compelled to say something). With just the two girls, I got a lot of compliments on the cute and how great sisters are. With three, I get a lot of, “whoa, three girls!!!” And then one of two follow-ups; either, “Wow, that’s going to be really rough when they’re teenagers,” or, “Well, you're lucky, at least girls are more cautious and quiet, three boys would be so much tougher.”

I want to smack these people – all of them. I want to smack them for their gender stereotypes and generalizations. I want to smack them for their assumptions about my life and my girls. I want to smack them most of all for making these comments in front of my girls as if they're all unable to hear the negativity. Gah!

So, with all of that being said, let me tell you about Sunday. I woke abruptly to Quokka shouting, “MOM, Badger's gonna be sick!” And then got to spend quality time cleaning vomit off of the carpet, floor, step stool, toilet exterior, Badger's hand and her ballerina dress-ups dress because my three darling girls decided to spend their Sunday morning spinning in the desk chair until they literally puked. Charming! So delicate and sweet and quiet.

After the vom-fest was over, Badger decided to run outside and ride her balance bike barefoot, resulting in a ravaged toe with all of the skin torn off of the end. Washed, bandaged, and back at it.

Next, I caught Badger and Athena taking turns leaping from the desk chair to the arm chair because, you know, that's a nice, sedate, safe activity.

Pause in the life-threatening shenanigans to make lunch and watch Mulan (I know, what was I thinking?). The quiet and preoccupation with the movie lulled me into a false sense that I might be able to get something done, so I went outside to stain a cutting board for the kitchen (the very last piece of our kitchen remodel). BIG mistake apparently because the lunatics I live with decided that the thing to do was take turns laying inside of their crawl tunnel while the other two ran through the house dragging the tunnel and its passenger like a runaway team of chariot horses. Until the tunnel swung wide and cracked Badger into a dining room chair, of course.

Ice packs, kisses and cuddles. And she went right back into the tunnel for another go. I did tell them to slow it down, for the love of sanity.

Another pause in the lunacy for snack time. Over granola bars and juice I ask Quokka, “Why is the bridge of your nose swollen and bruised and you kinda look like you've got two black eyes coming in?” She shifts her eyes to the side and squints at Athena.

Athena shrugs, “It was an accident.”
“Did you say you were sorry for clocking your sister?”
“Oh, yeah…sorry I hit your nose Quokka.”
Quokka raises her eyebrows, “I’m not really sure it was an accident.”
“Okay, what did she hit you with?”
“Her fist.”
“Alright then,” I look back to Athena, “you hit her with your fist?”
“It was an accident, my hand slipped.”
I look back to Quokka, who sighs, “okay, she didn't mean to.”
“So, did this happen before or after the chair twirling/puking incident?”
“Oh, before,” Quokka answers.
“Aaaand no one told me because you were doing something you’re not supposed to do?”
“Yep!” says Quokka all cheerful and unabashed.

I never did find out exactly what they were doing that resulted in an "accidental" nose punch.  I did head off any more potentially risky plans they had for the afternoon with Popsicles and watercolor paints.

After dinner, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, Badger was off again jumping off of my bed trying to beat her personal distance record while landing on her feet (currently somewhere around 7’). No, this is not something I condone or allow. Yes, she gets consequences for doing it. No, that does not stop her.

Right now, all three of my kids are a mass of bruises, scrapes, cuts, nicks and dings. There are bandages stuck all over them, most caked with dirt. I regularly scrub them with the heavy duty exfoliator to get rid of the dirt ground into their knees, and assorted other areas. Dad-e-Lion, a neat kid himself, despairs of being seen in public with such ragamuffins, but no matter how hard we try, they don’t stay presentable for long – they’re too busy climbing, jumping, rolling and running.

Look Mom, we're clean!

To date, Quokka has broken her nose (not from her sister punching her – it was a playground incident), and Athena has had to have her face glued shut over her brow bone (better than stitches, you can hardly see the scar) because she was leaping off of furniture over a pile of toys and misjudged her trajectory. Badger constantly looks like an overripe fruit she’s so covered in bruises, not to mention the variety of cuts and scrapes on her arms and legs.

They’re busy living life – which for my girls includes considerable thrill seeking. I mountain bike and snowboard, and was a tree climber and swing jumper as a kid, so I try not to be hypocritical about the whole thing, but Badger's bad habit of jumping down the stairs still makes my heart stop once in a while. Instead, I teach them safety, proper equipment use, landing with your knees bent, rolling to absorb impact, and other ways to make their adrenaline rush a teeny bit safer.

Whether or not children are more sedate or feisty has a lot more to do with personality than gender. Athena is naturally more fastidious than either of her sisters, and even as a toddler would not eat unless her hands were completely clean. Quokka and Badger, on the other hand, end every day looking like someone coated them with glue and rolled them in a dust pile. Wanting to be tidy does not make Athena the cautious child, she's often the riskiest of the bunch – when she was four, I caught her climbing from the bunk bed to the top of the book shelves because it seemed like a neat idea at the time.

Still silly though

The point is this; to all of those people out there who want to tell me how lucky I am I had three girls instead of three boys because at least I don’t have to worry about them getting dirty, or doing wild things and hurting themselves, stop it. Really, just stop. You have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

Spend an afternoon at my house, or the house of anyone else blessed with a feisty girl. And pull your head out of the collective gender stereotype asshat and repeat after me – girls are just as physical and active as boys – at least they are if they are allowed to be.

I don’t tell my girls to go sit down, not run so fast, or climb so high because “girls shouldn't do that.” Instead, I tell them to watch their footing, make sure they’re not pushing the envelope too far, and remind them to bend their knees when they land (oh, and put a helmet on, we're big on helmet wearing).

Good catch by Quokka with a nice assist from Athena

And no one is permitted to call my girls “tomboys” either. I was called that as a child and it sucks because it’s a derogatory term used to try and control little girls – to shame them and denigrate them, and tell them to get back on the settee where a proper girl belongs. Nope, these are Action Princesses, and they can save themselves perfectly well, thank you very much.

So, if you see me in the store with my three girls, with their bruised shins and dirty knees, and tell me how lucky I am because girls are so naturally clean and cautious, I probably won’t smack you, but may laugh right in your face.