The first post I read was by author, Anne Sawan, ‘Moms of boys, you are my people.’ Of course, this got my attention as I’m a mother to three sons. The post was so hilarious I nearly split my jeans laughing. I subscribed the same day.
Anne Sawan wrote of discovering her boys running around on their icy roof in winter, ‘inches away from slipping off and cracking their skulls,’ and how, that night, she had to have ‘a large glass of red wine’ in order to get over the experience.
I laughed in the grip of my own painful memories. My three sons have made my hair go gray which is why I have to dye it now.
I remember one time, when Sam was three and escaped the property. He took off in his plastic car down the middle of our street. He lifted his feet and whizzed down the hill, with me running behind shouting, “Stop! Stop, Sam!”
He shot out of the street, turning a corner into another road, still freewheeling. I braced myself for hearing a screech of brakes, which fortunately never came. I managed to catch up with Sam and yank him off the road before he met any traffic. His guardian angels must take home plenty of overtime, that night. In fact, all my boys have given their angels a run for their money.
‘Boys are just a different breed from girls,’ wrote Sawan. I couldn’t agree more.
My sister’s darling daughter used to present herself to her mother each evening at six o’clock exactly, and say, “I’m ready for bed, mama.” How I envied my sister! My boys would still be strangling each other somewhere, with someone moments away from an elbow in the eye, or getting somehow mortally injured and roaring with pain. Or they’d be trying the old, I-can’t-hear-you routine. Oh, yes, boys are different, all right.
What goes on in a household of boys?
A lot of yelling goes on in this household of boys.
A lot of dressing up.
Birthday parties that would put adult all-night-ragers to shame.
Hours spent playing digital games.
Wild air guitar-playing while only dressed in underwear.
Yet more play-fighting.
And of course, posturing.
Did I mention the singing? They sing a lot as well.
Once you learn to roll with the rambunctious, noisy, chaos of living with sons, I am here to report; it is possible to live harmoniously with them.
Besides in the words of Anne Sawan, in the end, “we laugh knowing our boys are going to be marrying your girls, and one day, if they’re lucky, they may just have little boys of their own.”
That’s called karma, folks!
Do you have any stories of the differences between raising your sons and daughters, or any hair-raising parenting tales to share?
Talk to you later,
Keep on Creating!
Yvette K. Carol
‘Raising children is one of the most significant things that a person can do. It matters a tremendous amount, and women who choose to do it should be held in high esteem. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it was a token of great respect for a man to address an older woman as “mother.” That might be a good thing to bring back.’ ~ Paul Rosenberg
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