The older I get and the more experience I gain at being a mother of boys (or a MOB if you are trendy) the more I realize that there is a role for me to play. It is a role that fits comfortably on me. I never shirk my duties in this role, I welcome them and in fact seek out opportunities to excel at them. I am really good at the things that comprise this role, so good, in fact, that I would be hard pressed to write a resume detailing these strengths, as I could go on and on about them. I can calm a sad boy down, clean up a scraped knee with the bo-bo baseball, I can cuddle and rub backs and read stories and do flash cards, I can be a referee, explain the rules, quiet the shouting, wipe the noses, change the diapers, make the beds, check the closets, turn on the night lights, throw the pitches, wipe the tears, comb the hair, say the prayers, sing the lullabies, scare off the thunder, rush to the nightmares and gather boys up in my arms to adore.
Here's what I stink at.
I don't like dirt. I don't like danger. I don't like wrestling and rough play. I don't like bodily noises. I don't like bugs. I don't like daredevil stunts. I don't like chaos or destruction or weapons. Daddy loves these things and the boys do too. You can't make the argument that the affinity for these things are learned as many of them have shown up with no introduction. We did not teach the boys that rubbing dirt in your hair is interesting and fun or that building a tower to "blow it up" is a neat game. Luke has trouble running by his brother without doing what we call a "drive by" where he discretely taps the middle of Andrew's back or pushes him slightly - just to push buttons. They look forward to playing rough and wrestling with Daddy with Christmas-like anticipation. We do different things with the boys and their dynamic is different around me than it is around Daddy. And, well, that delights me.
People who say that boys and girls aren't wired differently are insane. And I challenge you to observe 3 year old boys and girls in a setting together and tell me there is no difference. The girls are wrapping up their baby dolls and pretending to make supper at the play oven and the boys are destroying things and making weapons out of pipe cleaners and puzzle pieces. Yes, there are fundamental similarities, and yes, there are exceptions to this - but I feel confident in saying that little boys are wild. I get such a kick out of sharing stories with other MOBs as we nod our heads knowingly in agreement about how crazy our little boys are, and then we laugh to ourselves about you mothers of girls and how life is quiet now ... but oh, those teen years, they are a-coming.
Billy and I always say that we meet different needs for our boys and I like that. I like that I know what I love to do as a MOB and I like that Daddy is responsible for the things I can't handle. All of the books I read on bringing up boys talk about the need for energy exertion and bouts of aggression. Boys love danger. There is no getting around it. We laugh at the ad on TV right now the "don't tell Mom" ad because in our house there are things we don't talk about - and that is expected. I don't want to hear about how "daddy let me get up on the roof" or "we built a fire and daddy and grandpa jim let me get really close until my pants were hot" - because the bottom line is I trust Billy and I know that he is making good decisions about their safety and there are things that will be sacred between those three and I will sleep better not knowing.
So I'm smiling to myself tonight as I am sorting laundry and it reeks of smoke and filth that I am a mother of a boy, confident in my role, and hopelessly devoted to all of my boys.
This is how we spend time with Mommy ... helping make Daddy some strawberry cupcakes for Valentine's Day (aren't they charming and clean?)!
And this is how we spend time with daddy ... scaling a house-sized, dirt hill in 50 degree weather with short sleeves!
