A few months ago we had a gang of extra boys over. They were down in the basement music room where there are now two drum kits, mic’ed homemade instruments, mic’ed keyboard and mic’ed microphones. My friend went down to look and came back upstairs laughing. They’re having a great time but it’s really loud and smells like farts, she said. Which I find is a fair summation of living with boys.
I grew up with a sister and mother. The friend I spent 99% of my teen time also grew up with a mother and a sister. The male species was and continues to be a mystery to me. Having lived with a man for nearly 20 years and having three boy children has made me understand a smidge of my teen and early twenties better. I found boys baffling. Why, why, why?
I jokingly call our home the gender study program. I find they do fall in to similar patterns based on their gender. Former me would never had admitted that and there are those that will vehemently deny it but….no matter, those are my ‘findings’. My baby boys cling to me like we are on a life raft in a roiling sea during a hurricane. They have nursed like tomorrow will never come and when I leave the house, upon my return the boys are either standing in the driveway waving to me like to dislocate their arms or beating on the window for my attention . My girls blow me a kiss and go back to what they were doing.
I see grown men, I see how some of them interact with their mothers. It looks weird to me and I don’t get it. Because I will just call my mom or email or text. Just to make contact. When my boys are grown and I’m out of the smell zone, I want that contact too. I see that I may have to infer our time together now as our primary connection and continue to return to it as a touchpoint. They will change and not want to spend hours reading Magic cards to me and my girls may call me to describe details. It is only from the outside I can imagine and hope how my sons and I will be.