In Praise of Raising Boys

A little mud on the tires

A little mud on the tires

I remember the ultrasound tech’s words in San Antonio 16 years ago when she told us we were expecting a little boy,

“If I’m wrong, I need to go sell shoes or something.”

She was right. What she could tell me that day was that we would soon add a boy to our family, what I could not know was how rich my life would be as a result of that addition. Here are the reasons I love being my son’s Mom. Parents everywhere, try not to be too jealous:

The flowery nick-names: One Mother’s Day I received a card with the loving title, “23 Chromosomes” scribbled upon it. Sure I had to use Google to get the joke which is sad because he was in the 6th grade when he foisted out that one but it stuck. 

In the morning I greet him with a tender, “Good Morning, Baby Jack” and commonly receive a wry, “Good Morning, Baby Momma” in return.

I am, however, called “Pretty Momma” when there a last-minute grocery item, gas for the John Deere or a bait-seeking mission to Academy Sports & Outdoors needed. 

The honesty: Erma Bombeck nailed it when she wrote about the difference between boys and girls. “When it is silent and you ask girls what they are doing the answer is always “Nothing.”

Ask boys and they’ll tell you, “We just threw the cat down the laundry shoot. It was so cool”

After a discussion with a friend of mine, I posed the question to my son,”So, it was inferred to me by a friend that I can at times be dramatic.  Do you think I’m dramatic?”

Glaring straight back at me in disbelief he shot, “Uh. YEAH, Mom.” then chortled. 

The simplicity:  Food is fuel, nothing more. He eats like a honey badger when starving and refuses food when he is not hungry. He is deaf to the tiny temptress voice which relentlessly whispers, “cupcakes” to me internally if some exist in the kitchen. 

And really, why expend energy changing shorts when you could conserve that precious resource NOT changing your shorts? Alas, the Mother of all arguments…

The Matrimonial Standard: Apparently attending a wedding is the only event which warrants full battery of hygiene, ironed clothes and appropriately matching socks. The standards of everyday life are far less vigorous. 

This life-philosophy is evidenced by the tag line, “It’s not like we’re going to a wedding or anything” in response to questions such as, 

“Did you put on a belt?”

“Brush your hair yet?”

“Change out of your squirrel-hunting shirt before church?”

 

The Bear Gryllesque test of character: Waiting for Longmire to que up I received this rare nugget of what matters to Jack. 

“You know If I had to 

save

someone’s

life

(dramatic pause)

by chewing off their leg, I’d do it. I would, Mom.”

“Hey Mom, if chewing off my leg was the only way to save my life, would you do it?”

After numerous qualifying questions about femoral arteries bleeding out and would there be someone to find us after I had gnawed his trapped leg, he gave up in disgust.

I guess from now on, my love will just have to be expressed in less dramatic ways.

A little mud on the tires

A little mud on the tires

2 thoughts on “In Praise of Raising Boys

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s