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Living With Boys

Brothers. You either want to hug them or stangle them, there is no in between.

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Living With Boys
Dawn Roberts

All my life I've been surrounded by boys. With two uncles on my dad's side and three on my mom's, it's not like I had much of a choice. Even my first cat (and every cat after him) was a dude. And then came two little bouncing bundles of joy — my sweet baby brothers. I guess I can appreciate the irony that all of my siblings would end up being boys, as well. I mean, it's like the universe pulled the ultimate prank on me, but luckily I'm not stranger to those anymore. Despite all the teasing and torture, growing up with boys taught me so many valuable lessons and made me who I am today. I've never been one of those girls who grew up wishing I had a sister, I've heard enough horror stories to be grateful for the two turds I was blessed with. So even though they find new buttons to push every single day and I'll probably never live this article down, there are still some things I'd like to thank them for and that I think anyone who grew up with brothers can relate to, (just don't let it go to your head, boys).

My childhood was nothing less than epic. Brothers can be smelly and inconsiderate, but when it comes to adventures, the possibilities are endless. I can't even count the nights we spent ransacking pillow forts that didn't stand a chance and jumping from couch to couch hoping we didn't wake the monsters, a.k.a. mom and dad. Our house wasn't a house, it was a jungle complete with waterfalls that we made from the stairs and a giant bear cave that was once the hallway. Instead of growing up on "Barbie" and "My Little Pony," I would stuff my face with popcorn watching "The Power Rangers," "Speed Racer" and classic old westerns. Of course, to this day the thing I'm probably most grateful for is our mutual love of all things "Star Wars," but that's another story entirely.

If living with boys teaches you only one thing, it would be that it's okay to get down and dirty. In our case, we lived for it. It was almost painful to spend a day inside (before we got our Nintendo Game Cube, of course), so we were always getting into something. No mud hole was safe, and I can still remember my dad shaking his head as he tried to hose us down outside before we ran laughing into the house. The real fun happened when a storm would come and the backyard would flood. I guess you could say that was my first surfing experience, which usually ended in an unintentional belly flop, but we didn't care. Covered in mud, grass, and whatever else was lurking out there, our dad would hose us off again and we would dart for the showers, even though we knew we'd be back out in an hour or so. Honestly, bath-time was kind of pointless.

I've always had a love for animals, and mean all animals. We were never taught to fear things like snakes and lizards, and we were no stranger to them. My favorite thing was the tree frogs that would cling to my window every night and chirp until I would have to tap the glass hoping they would be quiet. We always had pets, though the fish never lasted very long. Our dogs would drag in whatever they could find in the woods and we would take it upon ourselves to nurture whatever it was back to life, which didn't always work but at least we tried. Trips to the zoo were a treat, and if we could choose to live anywhere I can guarantee you we would be setting up shop in the aquarium. It wasn't just that we had a love for animals, but really a respect for them, and for that I'm still thankful.

When you're the only girl and have two younger brothers who are still bigger than you, you develop a thick skin and a quick tongue almost from day one. Fights were fair game. It didn't matter if it was boy versus boy, or boy versus girl. If you start it, you better finish it and you better win. At one point I had perfected a head-lock move and could put my full weight on top of them to make them give up, but that was before they grew to be four heads taller than me. The race for who got to sit shotgun was real, and I'm still convinced that's what made me so good at cross country. We could argue with each other until we were blue in the face and chucking match box cars across the room. Slamming doors was a talent, and so was shoving each other in a laundry basket and sitting on top of it until they surrendered. Despite everything, there were no hard feelings, it was just tough love. After all, we can beat each other up in circles, but the second someone messes with one of us, they're going down.

The struggles of living with boys only got worse as we grew older. Let's just talk about the bathroom for a second. It's a well-known fact that guys don't take that long to actually "go," and the rest of that immeasurable amount of time they spend in there is spent playing Candy Crush or that stupid dirt bike game. I have waited as long as four hours to use the bathroom because one of them was on a winning streak and couldn't be bothered. I have yet to find a solution to this problem, but I have hope. Still on the subject of the bathroom, let's talk shower time. While it's true I grew up with boys, I am still a girl. A girl who has hair and wears make-up. This means that it takes me triple the time it takes them to get ready, but boys don't realize that. It's always a competition to see who can snag the shower first, leaving you to resort to dry shampoo and yesterday's mascara to get you through the day. The point is that sharing a bathroom with boys is a losing game, and don't even get me started on the toilet seat.

Being the only girl eventually makes you an honorary boy. I was always trying to keep up with them, ride my bike as fast as them, roller blade as fast as them, jump as high as them, or climb even higher. It was exhausting, but I lived for it. I had girlfriends growing up, but mostly I would hang out with my brothers and our mutual friends who were almost always boys. It never really phased me, it was just a normal day in the neighborhood. Girls could just be so dramatic, and with the guys it was so easy. It didn't matter what you looked like or what you wore, it would probably have dirt on it by the end of the day anyway. Any girl who grew up with boys probably to this day has more guyfriends than girlfriends, and that's just because we get them and they're easier to be around most of the time. Which leads me to one of the most important aspects of growing up with boys — the dating scene.

Honestly until I was in middle school dating a boy held no interest to me, as far as I was concerned they all had cooties. But when I did decide I wanted to give it a try, I guess you could say I was a little more prepared than most. I'm not saying all boys are the same and that because I was raised with them I'm an expert or something, but I do know a thing or two about what they want out of a relationship. When I got to the bringing-the-boy-home stage, it wasn't just the seal of approval I needed from my parents, but the one from my brothers, as well. Like it or not, boys know boys better than we do, and most often they can sense the signs before we even see it coming. The same goes for them. Whether they agree or not, my seal of approval is just as important. The only girl that's allowed to hurt them is me because I put up with them for twenty years and I have the right to do so. Ultimately, I just want what's best for them, and I have no qualms sending a trifling young lady on her way out the door.

If you have brothers, you'll know that I'm right. There's nothing like it in the world. They're the bane of our existence, but they're also our pride and joys (sometimes). You either want to hug them or strangle them, there's really no in-between. As girls, we sometimes take for granted that male presence in our lives, when really it's why we are they way we are. Of course, I can't give them too much credit. They wouldn't stand a chance on a first date if it wasn't for us. But I really do thank my lucky stars that I was raised with brothers, and they mean so much to me. So go hug your brother (though you might have to hold your breath), and I think that's enough nostalgia for the day. I have to get back to banging on the bathroom door and yelling for them to come out because it's been two hours at this point. Boys — can't live with them, can't live without them.




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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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