On Raising Boys

Mom reflects on her own son while giving advice to two friends expecting boys.

My two very good friends laugh at me when I start off a conversation with:  "I was thinking about "xxx"  in the shower this morning." They know a rant of some kind is sure to follow.  Well - It's true!! With two males in my house, the shower is the only place left for ruminating. All my other "places" seem to become inhabited by the male need to have me find things lost ("man eyes") or put things back in order, or provide counsel, sew a button, ad nauseum.
 
In any event, I was thinking about my son, and these two friends in my "thinking spot "the other day.  Pondering on the advice I sagely passed on when they were pregnant with sons of their own.  I was remembering who my son was and how now, at 10 he is morphing into something else, and wondering why I am so reluctant to have that happen.

Bottom line is, he is growing up. From his point of view, I am old and exceptionally un-cool.  Also, it seems I infringe upon his "him-ness" at certain times, but I'm not exactly certain what those times are.  Add to this that even though I know nothing, I am still required to be responsible for the things he doesn't wish to be responsible for.

I don't know anything about being a boy, but I do remember being 10.  It was not allowed to so openly declare such frustrations most of the time in my house. "Most of the time" being when Dad was home. My saint of a mother, however allowed three hormonal girls to rage rampant, for the most part, and up to a  point. Raging was allowed. Outright disrespect so unthinkable, it was never even considered   Yes, I remember being 10.  I remember that feeling of coming into myself. It was a very exciting time, and I have some very fond memories of spending time with my friends both in, and away from school. I don't have many memories of thinking how wonderful my parents were, even if they were wonderful. I got my ears pierced when I was 10.

Fast forward 35 years and I'm staring into the scowling face of a 10 year old boy. The message in his eyes is that I'm mean, or wrong, or that I lost his .... (actually I really don't know what the message is, but I do know he's mad about something).  Did I hug him in public?  Embarrass him by brushing his hair from his eyes>  Geesh!  I don't know!!

Back to my two above mentioned girlfriends, once pregnant with boys of their own.  Both had young daughters, and so were very versed in all things glittery, sparkly, that smelled like bubble gum, and were either pink, or fluffy or both. I remember their confusion when they said "WHAT am I supposed to do with a boy!?! (Ironically, also what I said when I found out my baby was to be male)

At that time, I was the one experienced in all things related to the young XY chromosome.   I laughed sagely, and took them on a stroll down the party aisle at the local discount store.  I pointed out the nail polish, the feather boas, the sparkly rings and the pretty princess tiaras. "See these things?" I said. "Forget 'em! They're stupid!" I then turned them around to face the other side of the aisle. I pointed out the green sticky hands, the plastic stretchy bugs, the bloody eyeballs and the plastic body parts in a bag.

"This is your new life."  I stated proudly.  "Isn't it cool?"  Their eyes glazed over, and I gently walked them to the Barbie aisle.

"These things" I told them, "are now only useful for staring at in disgust, for trying to figure out the cruelest way to dismember them, for trying to decide how they will look hanging by the neck from your stair rail.  One day you will find them at the bottom of a toy box, naked, with their face colored blue by a forbidden sharpie marker, and with their hair lopped down to the plastic skull by a pair of 5" curved point safety scissors. Welcome to your New Life!"

Some of the wise advise I gave to my girls:
If it smells, makes a funny noise, or makes you want to hurl it's totally cool.
If it sits in plain view, it may get broken.  If it sits in plain view and is expensive, it will get broken.
Let him taste the snail. He'll (probably) only do it once.

In my arrogance, I even went so far as to bring to work a 3' blue and green alien creature-thing that my son found at a garage sale. The thing had 8 legs (or tentacles), was oozing plastic purple blood and smelled like the bottom of a garbage can. I put it on my friend's desk to greet her upon her arrival to work.

I heard her arrive to her office and waited for the shriek. Sure enough, I heard the shriek as well as a few muffled cuss words. I got up from my desk, sauntered into her office and stated cooly, "One day, you will see something like this and you will say, THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER!" I promised her it was true, because that is exactly what I said when the thing arrived at my house. ("Mom! Can you believe it. They just GAVE this to me. For FREE!") I knew what of I spoke, and I spoke with absolute authority.

When my son was four, he received something called a "Stink Blaster" for his birthday. The thing was called "Sammy Sweatsox" or something similar. When you opened the sealed plastic canister, it was immediately apparent that these things were appropriately named. Sammy Sweatsox tripped the gag reflex in a 4' radius.

While on a business trip shortly after Sammy's arrival, I had a very funny conversation with my son during his bed-time phone call.   He said in a very quiet voice filled with pride, "Mom, guess what? I put my stink blaster under Grandma's pillow today. She is totally mad at me. I got in trouble from her."   Safe from the reach of my mother's eye roll, I told him not to tell Grandma, but I thought that was the funniest thing in the world. We had a good quiet chuckle together. Ohhhh sweet memories.

Well, not but a year ago my friends begin to agree with some of my boy raising foretellings, and I felt like the most competent, the most sage mother on the planet!  They still are not on board with my "if it stinks, it's cool" findings however.  Just give 'em time.

Back to my musings. I realized that I was only partially right in my advice to them. I was speaking with only six or seven year's of experience of boy raising. What I didn't know then was that at 10, the "if it stinks, it's cool" no longer passes the litmus test of motherhood. At 10, when my son takes his shoes off after a day in the summer heat, I would gladly welcome Sammy Sweatsox under my pillow as an air freshener.

Also, what I did not know then, that I do know now, is that sometime between 8 and 10 years old, there is a parting of ways between a boy's and his parent's idea of what is cool and what is stupid. Case in point, from my son's point of view, he is cool and I am stupid. As to where the coolness of the alien toy thing stands today, I really cannot tell you. He doesn't feel it is important enough to warrant a discussion with me about. I should probably ask his friends.

After getting over the perplexity of my son's complete change in personality, I have come to realize that he really is not from another planet. He is simply growing older, and trying to find a new level of independence. Why the universe had to throw stinky feet in the mix is a mystery to me. It would seem that parents would be much more inclined to be nice to their children if they could stand closer to them. Then again, perhaps the stinky feet is the impetus needed to get parents to launch their kids a bit more into the world. After all, if the feet stay outside an hour longer than last year, or go to the movies unattended for two hours, that is less time they have to infect the carpets with an odor too obnoxious to name. Also, stinky feet should deter any predators out there right? Too horrible a thought to think about, but valid enough to mention.

I am certain that my old ideas about raising a boy are still valid.... but only up to a certain age. Just as I am certain that the way I used to communicate with my son does not work today. I am having to learn new ways to communicate with a little boy who seems to be sprouting the buds of his wings to early in my estimation, but right on time according to appropriate states of the maturation of children in the United States. Just this morning I heard myself say, "finish your breakfast and put your dishes in the sink." I left the room and did a quick spin back to amend my command. "I'm sorry," I said. "I meant to say you need to finish your breakfast and clean up before 10:15 today.   Do you think you can accomplish all that in an hour? Yes or yes?" It seems so simple a change to make in communications, but it is causing me much consternation in doing so. I am used to commands, and being obeyed. My entire paradigm is changing along with my son.

Stinky feet and attitude aside, no matter how much he may have pushed my buttons during the day, I still find myself sneaking into his room at night just to stare and touch his head. I love the look of his scrunched up face and ginormous lips when he's in a totally exhausted sleep. If I'm fortunate enough to have gotten him into the shower on his own steam before bed, I even bend down and smell the sleep and sweat in his hair. OBLIGATORY WARNING: This is only advised within the first few hours of sleep. After this time, hormones take over and "that smell" starts to creep back in.

OK - so I'm still learning. I am learning new ways to communicate with the surly. I am learning to give advice and timelines, not commands. I am learning to stay calm when I state that anger, angst and frustration with ones parents are allowed, and even normal, but disrespect while so doing will not be tolerated. I am attending the school of life with my child. Even if he has not allowed me to kiss him goodbye for several years when walking him to school, I've come to the conclusion that there is no other classroom I would rather be sitting in.

Reviews

[Stacey Watts]

This was very well written and mother's of sons everywhere will say kudos to you for writing this. I have a six year old boy and find myself getting Mother's Day presents yesterday of Lego flower gardens and of course the wickedly cool alien with a sharpie painted bloody nose. I know that these are the memories that will last forever. Raising boys gives you a sense of humor. But wow raising them what fun!

[Zeek4]

I didn't have much sympathy at the beginning of your piece where you complained about living with two males. I soldered through living with four females. Granted two of them were dogs (you know, b*****s), but the other two were of the human female variety. We had only one bathroom, so myself and the two dogs were often sharing the backyard facilitates if you get my drift. When my wife first became pregnant I prayed, let it be a girl. Not to say I wasn't a good son. The saving grace for my mother was I seldom got caught, so what she didn't know didn't hurt her. But knowing what any son of mine might be up to, a female, I felt, was much saver ground, unless you get a real stinker girl and that's a whole other can of worms. Fortunately, I ended up with a wonderful daughter. I greatly enjoyed the different scenarios you depicted, and your obvious love for your son shined through clearly. As I have said in other reviews, you have such a user friendly style of writing it's just a pleasure to read. I'm sure your mother friends have appreciated your counseling. Another great piece Shelley.

[EMF]

It won't be lonng now before your 10 year old enters the Chyrysilis period that coes immediatley before the mutation into puberty. That's where the fun begins. Might I suggest cultivating an enagmatic smile and the simple repetition of the phrase 'Really. Go On." I doesn't work, but aftrer a yea or so makes a really great mantra for dealing with stress in your life.

Your work though is sensational. Smart, witty and truly funny, while also being thought provoking and alive. It remindas me at times of Stuart McLean. Superbly written, with precise language and form. The only thing it could possibly benefit from is a little (emphasis on the word little) tightening. The odd phrase here or there just to pull it in to make it sharper.
Personally it suits me to a T, but as a more 'Commercial piece' the tightness would make it more of a commodity.
Just a thought. Doesn't mean it's right.
But superb work here. Loved every word.

[roarke]

another good piece full of good concepts. It's a bit rangy, and probably suffers from "process" like all of us. Reading your piece reminds me of a story about my own son:
As you know, a young boy has certain predictable qualities. One being a perpetually messy room. Stuff all over the place. Toys and things I'd forgotten I purchased for him or in a moment of distraction, allowed him to have. One lesson I never learned was telling him to clean up his room, including his closet and under his bed. Oh, he'd start out fine, but an hour later, I peek in to see his room five times more messy and him in the middle of it all playing with legos or something... so the semi-neat room became the mother of all land fills in that process of cleaning up.

My point here is you've got lots of good singular concepts here that would make great stand alone pieces, including them altogether gets a bit hard to follow. One way to see how your piece is progressing, is to take it out of your head. Read and record it and then listen back to it with a copy of you draft in front of you. Hearing the piece instead of reading it in your head will bring out where it diverges from your premise.
Another rewrite process is to take and separate the themes, and elaborate on them separately...maybe they are better stories on their own instead of crowed in a compilation.

I write lots of pieces like this and out of one writing session, I've actually sketched out two or three or maybe more different pieces, but that's me.
You have great original approaches to subject and your feelings to them, keep writing no matter what, don't throw anything out and from time to time go back to it after letting it simmer, to me, writing always becomes clearer after letting it simmer.
Good stuff here.

[Chris]

Your style and level of detail is pretty much such that I don't look deep for flaws... if it doesn't stand out then I won't attempt to catch it. These are "feel" good pieces which are appropriate at any time... too many negatives break a spirit. You can be a bit predictable though - as all of us can - jokingly self-deprecating yourself and refering/denigrating teenhood - raging hormones etc. works once or twice but not "always" and real teens in your audience will ding you on it.