Boys

Boys. I grew up in a house of 3 women and one male. Our big yearly vacation was often spent with myself, my sister, my mother, and my grandmother. So regardless to say when I heard the sonographer say to me “it’s a boy”, I wept. Rewind about 3 months and upon seeing that positive pregnancy test stick, I had a gut feeling I was harboring a boy. We had about a year of trying to conceive and I was giving up hope. Throwing in the towel. Adopted a cat to replace my desire for motherhood with rearing a kitten. Made travel plans with friends. Went to Spain, Gibralter, and Morroco. There was a month hiatus before my bartender’s week trip to Key West and Islamorada with my friend. It was a week before departure and at my sister’s home she was hosting a party and there were sandwiches. I grabbed a chicken salad sandwich, only to discover I was eating tuna. I hate seafood…. Like really really hate it. I turned to Paulie and said ‘oh no, it’s tuna’ and continued eating it. He said “you might want to take one of those four hundred pregnancy tests you’re hoarding at home. I think you might be pregnant.”. That next day as I was getting ready for work, I took one out peed on it, and yo, if that mofo wasn’t on to something. I couldn’t believe it. I can’t drink during bartender’s week. I was tearful,I happy, ecstatic and terrified all at once. I was alone… so I fixed that, and jumped on my husband as he blissfully was getting that last hour of sleep in before he had to get up to go to work. I hit him with the stick and said “ you ruined my trip”. He looked at me and said “ what the heck are you talking about? And did you just hit me with something you peed on?”. I cried when she told me “it’s a boy”. My husband came into the room and I was crying, he was terrified. He asked if everything was ok with the baby. I said “yes..it’s just it’s a boy.” He looked at me confused and said “I thought you wanted a boy, you knew he was a boy… what’s the problem?” . I said “ He’s going to hate going shopping. Who’s going to go shopping with me?”

So clearly I am not the most feminine gal out there, but I do love a good dress, heels, makeup, and purses. But give me a beer, and I’ll show you how hollow my gut is, with a burp that will rock your world. In college I preferred hanging around my core group of guys watching Top Gun for the 800th time, while they were guzzling back beers, than hanging with the girls pretending to like wine and cheese. I was definitely more in my element with the fellas. I hated gossiping and all things that go with college girls. My last year of college I was fortunate to have a female neighbor who shared my love of beer and foul language and we fast became friends and I suddenly had a happy inbetween, not just the guys and a touch of girly on the side. I wasn’t around boys alot growing up because my friends were either only children or had sisters too. My closest cousin, in age was 10 years younger and they didn’t live close, so I never got that boy growing up information. How am I going to raise a boy? I know only limited information. I know they like dirt, cars, breaking things, making messes, and girls, when they’re older. I understood guys and enjoyed their judgement/carefree friendships, but I never truly understood what made them tick. And through the years I am grateful for the naivity I had back then, because if I knew then what I know now, I probably wouldn’t have even sat on their beds watching Top Gun because they were probably filthy. But here I am in charge of helping to raise a boy… my mind was racing as to how do I explain birds and bees stuff? How do I raise him to be confident, respectful, kind, generous, and intelligent. Now mind you I am aware girls require such care growing too, but girls I can speak their language. Boys have a language all their own. They constantly talk superheroes, comics, and football. God forbid it be baseball, a language I understand and speak. 

I’m winging it, and hope I am not totally messing it up. My oldest now 12, going on 16 in his mind. At this age, that I’m pretty sure he’s interested in girls and things that go along with that. My goal is to make him comfortable to speak to my husband or myself, but often make it so awkward he shuts down and doesn’t want to talk at all. There are more times than not, that I think I’m failing him. He often doesn’t say “hi” when I pick him up from the school bus until we are a full block away from the busstop. I don’t say anything, I respect his need to be cool… but I also won’t stop picking him up, I want him to know I am there for him. There are times that he gets angry and storms off to his room. There are times that he cries when I try to help him with school work. I guess these are all things parents experience boy or girl mom. But my son at an early age, showed signs of masculinity as defined by society, without society yet impressing it on him. He always leaned toward the boy toys, he always liked the girls in class, but preferred the play time with his boys in the class. I never understood how some things are just inane to the male psyche. Like playing with cars, not liking the color pink, putting empty boxes back into the pantry, throwing up their arms looking for something without moving one thing even an inch and instead calling out for me to find it. 

I suppose just being a positive roll model is the best I can do as the woman in the household. Eventually my sons may have a wife (or a husband ) so it’s logical to say they need a healthy representation of male and females in their lives. They see that I work full time, help them with school work, make dinner, clean, etc. Lazy I am not, but confusing enough was the fact that I work nights and sleep in the daytime, to them this translated to laziness…. But I’ve been schooling them on that every day, that I sleep because I’m up for 20 + hours my first night at work and make up for it on my days off. I want them to respect the amount of effort I put in around the house, at work, and in my relationships. I want them to grow up and respect all of that in their chosen others. I’m not a romantic by nature, and feel like that is one area I’m causing a future disservice to my future daughter inlaws (or son in laws). I don’t get flowers or candies on Valentine’s Day. I don’t crave constant affection like hand holding. I apologize in advance. But I can’t change who I am and hope their chosen ones are strong and independent as well, and can reinforce their need for romance, if they don’t dole it out enough.

I want them to be confident and go for what it is they want. I don’t want them to second guess their abilities. I want them to pursue their dreams without regrets. I want them to always do their best and put forth the ability they harbor within themselves. I want them to be compassionate and caring. I show them that side of myself at home and have told them what it is I do for a living, and how I use compassion and caring to do the best for my patients and their families. My youngest son wears his heart on his sleeve and definitely has emotion and compassion. Unfortunately last year he experienced his first loss of a person, when his teacher unexpectedly passed away. His initial response horrified me when he came running out from the school exclaiming “Hey Mommy my teacher died!” and I immediately walked him home in shame, as I said to him “ hey that’s serious, don’t you understand that?” Well at the age of 7 apparently he didn’t, until I sat him down. All he knew was the cake they had to celebrate her life, and the kids all coming up to him and his classmates in the halls telling them they were sorry for their loss. To him it was a fun day, not the finality that death is. When we sat down, he cried and said he missed her already and that he hadn’t realized his initial reaction was inappropriate. I hope that my discussion with him brought compassion and understanding, not the memory, necessarily that I was horrified by his initial 7 year old boy reaction. 

Everyday I question my action and reactions, and everyday I hope it’s all positively affecting them. Not like the time I screamed at my son when he unloaded his entire dresser onto the floor of his room. The memory of that day still saddens and upsets me to my core. I still think I may have irreparably damaged him because I couldn’t control my anger and frustration. Today I have no clue what I was so angry or upset about that brought on that burst of rage. Was I maybe exhausted, physically and emotionally? Was I upset with my own actions earlier in the day, and then I unloaded on him? I don’t know. What I do know is I was soooooo wrong. My tender child stood there and cried as I hollered and I cried myself. I broke down. I wish I could control my emotions better, I don’t know why I let things get to me, and I’m actively working on that. I apologized to him then and I still do now, but he will always have that memory within him. I never want him to think he’s ever caused me to be angry,disappointed, or upset. He’s not responsible for my feelings, I am. I never want to put that pressure on my sons, friends, family, or husband. I am responsible for my instability of emotions. But maybe the positive I can take from that outburst, was I proved I was capable of making mistakes, and owning those mistakes by apologizing. Maybe from that he takes away, that it is ok to make mistakes and it is positive to apologize and admit I was wrong. As a matter of fact, I may apologize again today for it. 

More than likely I will have another outburst another emotional unraveling, I come from an imperfect hereditary line, and I do believe there is a chemical component that exaserbates my unravelings. I don’t want to medicate but am slowly beginning to understand it might be on my horizon sooner than later. My daily routine and life long experiences are, I think, normal for the most part. I deal with friendships, relationships, working, etc.. and it’s all imperfect, but nothing life shattering, nothing worth me feeling hopeless and anxious, but there it is… lingering. I know it’s irrational, and that’s why I do not think counseling will help. I know it’s a problem, I know I need to fix it. But it’s just this rattled feeling I get and at times is an extreme burden and nothing I can do, can talk it out of me. And there truly is nothing wrong. I want my boys to be sheltered from my crazy. So I try my best to keep that away from them, but inevitably I will be challenged by one or the other at some point and I need to try my best to raise them without fear and know they are loved. Again endpoint will be confident, gracious, smart, compassionate young men. I want to be the boy mom they deserve and need to become all of these things. I’m open for all suggestions and I do just love them to bits. Even the comic book talk, the farts, and the constant fighting they do with eachother, the jumping on the couches messing up the throw, the putting empty boxes back in the fridge. Overall they are great kids and I hope they have even an inkling of a similar sentiment toward me as their mom and the only one in the house with 3 closets of clothes and shoes that I now shop for online, because I have no one to shop with.  

naturally today he ran right to me afterI wrote that he doesn't say hi.

that genuine laughter ❤