Why I love being a mum to girls

I am the proud mother of two daughters. Two very lovely daughters, neither of whom have ever eaten a worm, and who never jump on me when I’m not expected it. “Will you have more children?” I’m often asked.

“Goodness no,” I reply, “it might be a boy! I can’t take the risk...”

I don't think Becky, who outlined why she loves being a mum to boys would be impressed.

Mother and daughters

When I was thinking about why I love being a mother to daughters, it was hard at first to resist the urge to write slightly different list, a list of reasons why I’m glad not to be the mother of sons. Aside from the fact that I’d immediately alienate over half the parents reading this, it also seemed a little harsh on the girls – surely they have great things going for them apart from just the fact that they aren’t male? So I thought about it some more, and came up with a few reasons why I think girls are special.

Like for like

They are the same as me. It seems obvious, and I know technically men and women are supposed to be the same species, but come on, we all know we’re not really. Otherwise men would just get the distinction between doing the hovering when asked, and just thinking to do it all by themselves. The outcome is the same, but the process is a very different one. As a mother, I understand my daughters in a way I’m just not sure I would if they were boys. I understand their thought processes, I know what makes them tick.

They are thoughtful. Now I know boys can be nice too, so no need to start shouting at me, but my girls are lovely. Belle has always been very sensitive to other people’s feelings, and will always notice if I am upset and try to do something to help. Even at aged two or three, she had a very caring manner with other children, and at pre-school would fetch bits of toilet paper, unprompted, for the new children who were crying and missing their mummies.

Staying within the lines

They like to sit down quietly and do colouring, and don’t need to be taken out to run around in circles everyday like overexcited puppies.

We can share clothes. Okay, so maybe there isn’t much I can share with my nine year old at the moment, apart from scarves and the odd hat, but when they get older it’ll be like having a whole second wardrobe. So long of course as I can lose a couple of stone in the meantime and don’t mind being that mum – the one who shares her kids clothes and thinks she’s cool.

An investment for the future

When they have children, I won’t be the secretly hated mother-in-law, poking her nose in where it’s not wanted. I will be the maternal grandparent, the one they go to for advice, support and guidance. OK, so basically I will be chief babysitter, but that’s ok, in my head I will be the matriarchal head of the family, source of all parenting wisdom.

They will look after me when I’m old. Well they better had at least. Because it’s pretty much always the women isn’t it who take on the care of elderly relatives? The way I see it, two daughters equals less chance of ending up abandoned in a nursing home smelling of wee, with Sunday afternoon bingo as my only joy in life. And that’s it in essence isn’t it – I care for them now, and hopefully they return the favour, completing the circle of life. And if they can’t be bothered with that, they’ll hopefully at least bring me in a bottle of sherry once in a while to help pass the time before eyes down.