Many years ago, after first having a girl, I gave birth to a son. A more experienced mother with multiple boys came to visit.
She peered down at my innocent newborn and in a wise and weary voice said, “The thing with boys is, it’s all about the penis.”
“Weirdo,” I thought.
But like everything else I have learned from all of those moms that went before me, it’s true.
Honey, please let go of your wee-wee. You need two hands to hold onto the swing.
Sweetie, you can’t play tee-ball if you are holding your penis.
For the love of God, let go of your dick and finish your homework!
Boys are just a different breed than girls.
Protest if you want, but we all know it’s true.
I can tell from the pick up line at school who the moms of girls are and who has the boys.
Moms of girls arrive early to chat with the teachers. They wear fresh makeup, cute wedges and designer jeans. They wave gleefully to their girls, “Hi sweetie!” and hustle them out the door off to a magical world full of enchantment and Mommy and Me crafting.
Moms of boys skid into the parking lot sideways, dressed for battle with army fatigues, sneakers, hair pulled back in ponytails and sunglasses on so they don’t have to make eye contact with the principal.
“Get over here,” They yell. “Hey you! Get in the van NOW! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Then they peel away, windows down so all farts and other strange odors can be exorcized outside.
These are my people.
I have noticed over the years that most of my friends are mothers of boys.
And I think this is because moms with boys just get it.
Moms of boys know.
They understand the chaos, the despair, the wacked out look in each other’s eyes.
Us moms of boys, we look at only girl moms with envy burning in our souls. What a wonderful life it must be. Structured, planned, clean…
My sister has such a blessed life.
One winter day when my boys were small I was on the computer booking a ski vacation for the family, when I suddenly thought to myself, “It’s too quiet.”
I walked to my sons’ room and heard hushed giggling.
“Where are you?” I said playing along. “Are you guys hiding in the closet?”
Cold blast of air.
Window… open? In February?
I poked my head out and there on the ice encased roof, laughing and running around like two complete idiots, inches from slipping off and cracking their skulls open on the ground below, are my kids.
As I pulled them back in through the window, I growled at my husband, “When does all this stupidness end?”
“Oh, for boys, let me see…at about age thirty-five.”
Thirty-five. That was his response.
He’s a boy. He knows.
Later that night over a large glass of wine, my hands still shaking, I told my sister what happened.
She stared, mouth hanging wide open and said, “Wow! I don’t think my girls would ever even think of doing something like that.”
It’s true, they wouldn’t.
They are girls.
Girls are smarter.
No argument here, we know.
Moms of boys don’t hold any pretense. We know that our kids are capable of anything and that there is no limit to their foolishness.
Moms of boys don’t blame or point fingers. They learn early on never to say, “Not my kid!” Instead they are the ones rushing in, grabbing their child and saying,“It was you, wasn’t it!”
Moms of boys forgive.There is camaraderie between us based on the basic truth and understanding that,“there but for the grace of God go I.” because maybe it wasn’t our kids this time, but for sure we know next time, it will be.
This is why I love my boy mom friends because there is no need to be perfect when you are the mom of boys. On Fridays we skid sideways up to the bar, sunglasses on to hide our baggy eyes, needing to share a story of our boy’s latest idiocy with those who understand, those who won’t judge or gasp in horror or offer useless advice but who instead just give a hug, nod their head and raise their glass.
And after a while, after a few drinks and a few tears, we laugh because we know our boys are going to be marrying your girls and one day, if they are lucky, they may just have little boys of their own.
About the author: Anne Sawan is a mother and a psychologist who eats, runs, and writes (in that order) in her spare time to keep herself sane. Her work has been featured on BluntMoms, Scary Mommy, Brain-Child, Adoptive Families and Ten to Twenty Parenting. More of her writing can be found on her blog at agsawan.wordpress.com.