Maternal Instincts

In college, I majored in Public Affairs and Corporate Communications (which is really just Public Relations, but leave it to a PR student to switch the name around to make it sound much fancier than it really is). I doubled minored in both Sociology and Political Science. Funny...I didn't go into any of those three fields.

In Sociology, though, one of the first things they teach is you is that gender is a learned behavior and that boys and girls are essentially the same. We assign their genders to them by giving trucks and cars to boys and baby dolls and play kitchens to girls.

I never bought into this, though, and as my Sociology minor was proving to be as useless as a wind sock in the desert, I just shrugged it off and didn't pay much attention to it.

But apparently, it stuck with me, because that particular teaching comes back to me every time I see one of my kids -- especially Devin -- doing something very typical of their gender.

I've tried not to buy into it and have done things specifically to counteract any ill-effects I may be inadvertently putting on my kids. We bought Devin a play kitchen for his second Christmas. I've made sure that the twins have blocks and trucks as well as teddy bears and dresses.

I feel like I've done a good job of treating all of my kids the same way. I hold them to the same standards like, "Yes ma'am" and "No sir" and "Please" and "Thank you." I kiss their boo-boos, rock them when they are upset and play silly games with them.

From the beginning, Devin was all boy. He learned to say, "Vroom," without ever being taught and was naturally more rambunctious than his female counterparts. He wasn't much of a cuddler, but was instead more interested in running around and being loud. I'm telling you -- all boy.

The girls are a little more sensitive and a little more attentive to others' needs.

You might even say they have motherly instincts. Instincts that my boy never exhibited, despite being brought up in nearly identical situations.

Earlier this week, Grace wasn't feeling well. Faith was already feeling better with her newest round of antibiotics, so she was playing very quietly on the floor. Grace was crying, so I picked her up and sat down in a chair with her. The chair wasn't a rocking chair, so I perched my rear end on the edge of the cushion and started to rock back and forth, back and forth, back and forth with Gracie, to calm her down.

Faith watched me for awhile, and I quietly smiled at her and whispered that I love her. I didn't want her to feel left out.

About that time, Faith crawled across the room to the green, stuffed Hippo lying on the floor. She picked the toy up, sat up straight, wrapped her arms around the animal and slowly began to rock, rock, rock, back and forth. She was rocking her baby.

I thought it was so cute and even told Todd about it last night. But I figured it was an isolated incident.

This morning, though, Faith was throwing her usual morning fit as Gracie moved from one toy to another. I picked Faith up and rocked her back and forth the way I had done with Gracie a few days earlier.

Without even looking at me, Gracie crawled to the stuffed elephant on the floor, picked it up and rocked it back and forth in her arms.

So much for the good money that went into that Sociology minor, huh?