Let’s Hear It For The Girl

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. They are my best friends and year-round companions as I traverse this silly, scary thing called single parenthood.

They’re funny enough to get me laughing when it seems everything that can go wrong, does. Strong enough to do the heavy lifting in and around the house. And brave enough to remind me that right is right, wrong is wrong and standing up for yourself is as important a trait as any other.

But they are also completely and utterly spoilt for my love, time and affection. So spoilt that if I have to be 100% honest, the Trolls are probably the real reason why I haven’t yet taken a gentleman suitor, turned him into something I can introduce to my mother, married him right quick and given him another bunch of giggling, bouncy babies.

The Trolls own me. They own my body, my mind, my heart, my days and my nights. They own all my cuddles, all my hugs and all my kisses. They own all my joy, all my excitement and all my future plans.

And that would have been a story, happy from beginning to end, if it wasn’t for one tiny little detail. The Trolls are men. And men … are selfish.

Even the men you try to raise well.

Men want what’s theirs, as well as what’s yours. And they want it, when they want it.

And my two teenage boys are no different. I do all the work, all the cooking and all the cleaning … and they do what their male DNA in all its Y-chromosome glory deems to be their birth right, they sit back and receive. And if they don’t receive … they sulk.

And so, for the longest time (give or take the last five years) my desire to have another baby, one with two X chromosomes and not one, has taken root more and more. A girl. A beautiful, gentle, helpful baby girl. Someone to help me as I prepare dinner. Someone who I don’t have to remind that socks can only be worn for a day …​ and not a week. Someone who innately understands that the toilet lid belongs down.

Someone who could rattle The Trolls off their selfish little axis, and give them 1: a sense of responsibility and 2: something other than themselves they have to love, protect and nurture.

And so, three weeks ago I finally did. I gave them a baby sister. Don’t get excited! Not a human baby sister. I need an actual love life for that! A female baby kitten … called Jingle Bells.

Jingles is a little furry-girl-child who is so adorable and so cuddly I struggle to make it to work on time. I watch TV with her, play with her in bed, and whereas The Trolls were the first names I would normally call out as I walk into the house, now I call hers.

She is sugar and spice in all the right measures and has stolen my heart like it’s never been stolen before.

And as for The Trolls? Did giving them a baby sister change them for the better? In so many ways. The brothers take turns to feed her, turns to clean her litter box and now actually argue about who she spends more time with.

Turns out, another girl was just what our life needed. She didn’t just change our status quo. She pretty much saved it.

– urbansinglemom@gmail.com

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.