I was at a play centre on the weekend celebrating a birthday. Following my son cautiously around the centre. He entered the under 3 area where he started building large blocks and knocking them down, he was joined by another young boy and they both began building them up and throwing them around. Both his mother and I edged closer to them. She looked and me and I smiled and said “I’m just worried he might beat up your son”… “me too” she said, “I guess that’s what all mothers of boys worry about” and we laughed and laughed and then sighed because we were both actually worried.
Mothers of boy(s) you know what it’s like….
I used to discuss in depth, when I was childless, the nature vs. nurture debate…where a man can grow up and will be a byproduct of his environment, don’t flood him with “boy-ish” activities or toys and he can be moulded to not act rough and tough or love to smash cars together in full force …. and then… I had a son.
Parenting is a rude awakening when you enter it for the first time, but when you have boys it’s like accidentally farting when you laugh at a joke… ‘you think how the hell did this happen?’ From a place of embarrassment and a hopeful place that no one saw or heard.
I remember when I gave birth to my little boy, one of the nurse commented on the size of his balls. I shot her a weird look and she laughed and said “oh love, you’re going to have a lot more conversations and yell a lot worse things than that”
Granted his balls were huge and she was right.
“why are you holding your pee pee sweet?Do you need to go to the toilet?”
“Honey, you can’t put your hands down your pants and then eat food”
“FFS LUCA WILL YOU LET GO OF YOUR WILLY AND PICK UP THESE TOYS?!”
Boys are just different to girls, and when you have one, you see the difference. We can agree or deny the nature vs nurture crap all we want… but boys are just a different species that live up to their expectations.
Living with my daughter at 8 months old, I can shower. I often attend places with a full face of make up. I’m sometimes early. I chat, I laugh. When we go out, I forget she’s there, and I’ll occasionally rock her in the pram where she will fall asleep so easily you just can’t help but stare…she’s gentle, she’s soft and she’s a little sweetheart.
Living with my son at 8 months, I smelled like a garbage bin. My hair was falling out. Dressed in pyjamas that could pass as day clothes with runners and sunglasses on like I’ve come back from a bender. I arrive 5 hours late if all. I gave people death stares. If I went out, the conversation would be like, “so how.. COME BACK!! No no! Don’t put that in your mouth please. Don’t smack, we don’t smack… come on eat your lunch. You can’t have toast, you asked for this? Okay I’ll get you toast. DON’T throw your toast…. so how’s things?”
And sleep. Ha.What sleep. You have to tie that child to the pram to get them strapped in. And by the end? By the end of it you’re just dying to get out of there. So you end up leaving apologising saying that NEXT time we will be able to chat… but we both know, we won’t ever have that time to chat.
Mothers of boys don’t rush in to cries and ask their son if they’re okay, they point the finger and say “what did you do??” We learn early on to accept blame and never deny that our kid is capable of being the bully, no matter how sweet they were the day before.
Mothers of boys know that loud noises and banging is a sign of normal play and silence is extremely terrifying.
Mothers of boys have to be helicopter parents because a black eye is just a hop, skip and a jump away.
And mothers know trying to take a nice picture of their son smiling is close to impossible
But us mothers of boys know…
that little boys give the greatest hugs.
They have the sweetest little nature and the most heart warming smile.
They are cheeky and funny and full of energy.
They leave you laughing hard and fulfil every part of your day.
And you have the most amazing bond with them because they win you over with that little boyish charm.
They are basically a ball of noise with dirt on them, but we love them so dearly.