Posted on 03/29/2016 6:31:11 AM PDT by Kaslin
In many ways I am a girly-girl. I love pretty dresses and going out for afternoon tea. I could sit with a book for hours, snuggled under a blanket, without feeling the need to move. Pink is one of my favorite colors, second only to powder blue. I’m not a huge fan of getting dirty and my relationship with bugs is strained.
But my son is all boy. Yesterday I watched him sit on the ground, placing handful after handful of dirt methodically into his lap. Then he stood up, grinned, and fell over onto a plant that, somewhat inexplicably, covered him in black soot. He picked himself up and toddled off to investigate a manhole cover from which he extracted a clod of dirt and grass which he sniffed and then put into his mouth. Like I said, he’s all boy.
It was clear from the moment he was born. He burst into the world raring to go and became immediately frustrated that he didn’t yet know how to run. He asserted his independence early, fussing and kicking against me so that I would put him down and let him practice rolling over. He took in the world with serious intensity, as if analyzing the laws of nature, sitting bolt upright in my lap, his blue eyes wide. He slowed down only to eat, finally resting his little head against the crook of my elbow, his eyelids resisting the inevitable pull toward sleep.
I worried that I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy. I didn’t want to be one of those mothers constantly racing after her son with a baby wipe yelling, “Don’t touch that! It’s dirty!” But would I be able to handle his perfect little face all covered in mud?
I didn’t want to be one of those mothers holding his arm as he climbed to the top of the jungle gym, screeching, “Not so high! You’re going to fall!” But would I be able to stand down below as my fearless boy catapulted to the top of the climber with no regard whatsoever for the length of the drop?
I didn’t want to be one of those mothers ripping the pots and pans out of his hands while sternly saying, “Not so loud!” But would I be able to handle the racket?
So he grew and I worried, and I worried and he grew. And then, a funny thing happened. I realized I love the boyness of him. Of course, I love him -- he’s my baby. But I actually, truly, love all the things I worried I would hate.
He revels in the sounds things make when he bangs on them. This sofa cushion sounds different from the tabletop, the tabletop sounds different from the wall. We drum on things together, his joyful enthusiasm rubbing off on me. He experiments with the sounds his voice can make, sometimes a high-pitched squeak, sometimes a primal yell. And I whoop and holler, too, as we run through the grass. He thinks the sounds of words are funny. “Tissue” is a favorite and “idea.” I discover I think they’re hilarious, too, and we say them over and over and roll on the floor giggling.
We look at bugs and birds and dogs. We examine dirt. We look into holes in the ground and peer through fences. We chase airplanes and make “whoosh whoosh” noises. He hands me wood chips and leaves and sticks for safe-keeping. I point out ants marching single-file along a tree trunk and garbage trucks roaring stinkily by.
His hugs are given with boyish abandon, his whole body flung into mine, his arms wrapped around my neck, his fingers entwined with my hair. They last only a moment but that makes them all the sweeter. He plants his kisses on my cheek with his mouth open wide, smearing spit all over my face. Then he presents his cheek for a kiss of his own. And then he is gone. Off on another adventure.
I love the boyness of him. And thank goodness I do. Because it’s who he is. No matter how I feel about it. So I hold my breath as he learns to climb. And I make sure he has a good long soak in the bath at night. And I watch his face as he dreams, wondering what mischief we’ll get up to tomorrow. My son is all boy. And that’s just fine with me.
With two boys and one girl of my own, I vowed to not say that to my girl, one of my boys grew up to be a Chimney sweep, daily covered in soot!!
My mother raised me alone. I'm 77. The feminization of boys is more a sign of the times than a single parent. I'm very domestic, cook and clean, but I'm all boy. :-)
This article could have been written by my daughter-in-law. Growing up with 4 sisters, she only knew how girls acted. Well, she and my son have 2 boys and at first she was both terrified and horrified. These boys loved swords and guns and the youngest is thoroughly obsessed with anything military. She’s finally realized that this is how boys play.
My daughter, on the other hand, also has two boys(a daughter too) and she’s always encouraged her boys to be just that. Thankfully all four boys are boys through and through.
All of my boys played in the dirt and with toy guns. They got older and we played with real guns and learned to respect their elders and their country. They all went to college and are all 3 combat tour Marines and out in the real world making a good life. My sister in law coddled her kids and over-protected them and they are not successful on the same scale. One is a 12 year career student and one is an pansy pajama boy.
Your life sounds much like mine except I was a tomboy with two brothers and then had two sons. Played sports with my brothers, built forts in the woods, played king of the hill in the haymow etc. - fortunate to grow up on a farm. Eventually the hormones kicked in and I didn’t want to be sweaty and disheveled anymore. I wouldn’t take anything for those days.
One of my sons was and is obsessed with sports the other was and is a gear-head.
I see so many women, especially if they have sisters only, who are particularly critical of what I see as normal guy behavior. They keep wanting their husbands to act like women. They bring me long stories about their husbands/boyfriends behavior. I patiently explain how it’s just a guy thing and their response is along the lines of, “But I just think”. They don’t listen or don’t even think about it.
Conversely as a girl, my relationships with other women is sometimes a puzzle to the guys I know. I just tell them, “it’s a girl thing”. They say okay and drop the why don’t you do it this or that way advice.
It doesn’t have to be so difficult. Our culture has made it that way. There wouldn’t be so much “but I just think” if women weren’t conditioned to think that men are inferior in every way.
When certain moms decides it's a fine idea to give her son who she thinks "identified as a female" hormones when pre-pubescent so he will look pretty later when he (mom assumes) changes sex rather than mannish. i.e. her son won't be an embarrassment to the mom. The possibility that said son might be fascinated by some feminine thing at age 6 but would outgrow it by age 7 isn't considered before a life altering drug regime is pursued. Yet instead of being put in prison for child abuse they are lauded as heroes. Yup, your post is dead on.
Some liberal school administrator will have the school nurse put this kid on Ritalin. He’s acting too much like a boy...and we mustn’t have that.
I’m a Boy-The Who
One girl was called Jean Marie
Another little girl was called Felicity
Another little girl was Sally Joy
The other was me, and I’m a boy.
My name is Bill, and I’m a head case
They practice making up on my face
Yeah, I feel lucky if I get trousers to wear
Spend evenings taking hairpins from my hair
Chorus:
I’m a boy, I’m a boy
But my ma won’t admit it
I’m a boy, I’m a boy
But if I say I am, I get it
Put your frock on, Jean Marie
Plait your hair, Felicity
Paint your nails, little Sally Joy
Put this wig on, little boy
Chorus
I wanna play cricket on the green
Ride my bike across the street
Cut myself and see my blood
I wanna come home all covered in mud
I’m a boy, I’m a boy
But my ma won’t admit it
I’m a boy, I’m a boy, I’m a boy
I’m a boy, I’m a boy, I’m a boy, I’m a boy
I’m a boy, I’m a boy
I’m a boy.
Agree. Women (not all) without sons can quickly decide that men are mostly irrelevant. I have hated the way commercials and sitcoms, since the 70’s, have reduced men’s roles to just being a doofus. I do think part of it comes down to a woman’s relationship with her father. I have a granddaughter now and will always encourage my son to be an active participant in her life, as he is already doing. Women who had difficult relationships with their dads have trouble, later in life, making lasting relationships with men. We need women and men who can work together in life. And yes, I am frequently saying to friends (who complain about their man and who grew up without brothers) ‘he’s a guy’. Nothing more really needs to be said when you understand the way most guys think......not feel. I have been a Warrior FOR Males as soon as I became aware of the War on Men. (PS-as my son was growing up, I always made it a point to encourage my husband and son to spend ‘male time’ together.....it is always important for children to spend alone time with each parent, as we all know)
Nice
It’s all going according to the Democrat plan. The more confused the masses are, the more votes the Democrats get.
Yes, there is a strong push by the entertainment media and others to feminize and weaken males, and strengthen females. Take a look at “American Idol”, which is thankfully on its last legs. Look at the male singers chosen to compete in the top twenty or whatever it is. As for most, their voices are weak, quavering, often barely above a whisper. They choose songs that are plaintive, cloying, beseeching, infantile, and banal. The prototypical non-threatening male, elevated to “idol” status.
I raised two boys. Love them both so much. Here’s the difference in a nutshell between the two. #1 would find a spider and carefully bring it to me so that after I repressed my hysteria we could both be amazed at its beauty. #2 would see a spider, step on it and say, “stupid bug.” #1 would hug everyone he encountered. #2 when asked for a hug would say, “I don’t have any hugs.” Guess which one is the IT guy and which one is the musician.
Number 2?
The hugs and cute spider guy is IT and the stomp on the spider and no hugs guy is the musician.
IT guys hate bugs. But they’re a fact of life. Programmers, what are ya gonna do.
Her bio says there is one.
I mourn that my godson is being raised by women - blighted ones, at that.
Makes me so grateful that even tho my parents were overly protective in other ways, they let me tomboy around climbing trees, following animal trails thru the woods & other things.
Poor lad’s more girly than I ever was.
OK, so I didn’t open the article itself after reading the entire thing posted here. In any case, I didn’t say that there was no husband and father in the family situation, simply that she made no mention of him in the article.
Indeed, she didn’t.
I read another article of hers,
http://thefederalist.com/2016/01/19/why-im-grateful-god-didnt-answer-my-prayer/
Very poignant.
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