Boys
I love boys.
When Sullivan was born (we did not do ultrasound and therefor did not try to determine the sex of our baby before the big day) I will never forget my very first clear thought. This tiny little quivering mass was scooped out from the water (Yeah, water birth because I'm THAT cool) and placed on my chest with the midwife asking me
Don't you want to know what it is?
Duh- It's a baby, stupid.
Two seconds after that I was told that it was a boy and I couldn't have been more pleased. I was so happy to have a boy because I wouldn't really know what to DO with a girl. Girls are so...girly. I knew that, on some level, the competition with my pretty daughter (because, of course she would have to be gorgeous) would be out of control. I wasn't mature enough. Besides, boys have always been a huge part of my existence. I've always been more of a mother than a lover anyway and this would take some of the pressure off my male friends to let me run their lives!
But, seriously, folks... I love boys, even though I struggle to understand them. But even through my struggles I have seen what other women do not see. So many women labor under the bizarre delusion that boys (men) don't care and don't feel. I'd argue that they care and feel more, they just aren't allowed to siphon it off into bite sized morsels like girls do.
I've been reading "Raising Cain", mostly because I am obsessed with the psychology of boys and I want to know how to best nurture my son. I've had to put this book down every few pages because I've had too much to think about to continue. It occurs to me that I am overwhelmed and frightened by my small son's emotions. It is like a tsunami that overpowers me and leaves me clinging to street signs and trees sputtering for air. I've always said that there is nothing more terrifying than the sound of a man screaming because when a man screams you know something is really fucking wrong. The bottom drops out from the world. When a little boy screams and cries with such ferocity I can't help but grasp for a solution, an answer, anything to get rid of that horrible, heart wrenching sound. Sometimes a solution is not what is required, but letting the feeling happen and be acknowledged. But the intensity is too much to bear. Girls don't make that sound. Girls don't shatter in quite that way. Boys do. And then they pack up and move on and you're never 100% sure if they are whole or not.
I worry about boys. I deal with a lot of them in my work. There is a boy I work with who is so tough and defiant and yet whenever he sees me he runs to hug me and he holds onto me so tight. He never opens up to me and he gives me an incredible amount of grief. Sometimes I worry that these hugs are a touch of humor on his part, but I really don't think so. I think he honestly needs them. Truth be told, I'm crazy about this tough little boy who is at least a head taller than anyone in his class and absolutely dashing. Through his macho and boisterous exterior, I see a little boy who needs to be told that he is good, smart and kind so that he may will those parts of himself into the forefront of his life. I fear for his future because he has clearly been pegged as "bad", a "troublemaker", a "problem" and that just isn't the boy I see. He is, indeed, a handful and I have yet to figure out how to reach him and it seems he hasn't yet figured out just how to reach me. I hope we figure it out.
There is something so beautiful and so bittersweet about boys. They are poetry is super motion. They speak another, coarser language and they live in a dark and very private mystery. How I would love to be let in. How I would love to just hold and gently kiss the foreheads of all these lovely boys, tuck them in and tell them beautiful stories about dragons on spaceships fighting vampires and ghosts. Then I would give them hot lemonade with a bit of honey and tell them the mysteries of girls so they don't have to fear being swallowed by a woman.
But, alas, that is not what these boys seem to need the most. Not that they don't need that, but what they need even more are role models and heroes and a sign that being a boy is not a disease but a joy. No snips and snails and puppy dog tails for my boys, because that simply isn't true. Boys are beautiful creatures whether they are 5 or 55 and I wish I could let them know.
When Sullivan was born (we did not do ultrasound and therefor did not try to determine the sex of our baby before the big day) I will never forget my very first clear thought. This tiny little quivering mass was scooped out from the water (Yeah, water birth because I'm THAT cool) and placed on my chest with the midwife asking me
Don't you want to know what it is?
Duh- It's a baby, stupid.
Two seconds after that I was told that it was a boy and I couldn't have been more pleased. I was so happy to have a boy because I wouldn't really know what to DO with a girl. Girls are so...girly. I knew that, on some level, the competition with my pretty daughter (because, of course she would have to be gorgeous) would be out of control. I wasn't mature enough. Besides, boys have always been a huge part of my existence. I've always been more of a mother than a lover anyway and this would take some of the pressure off my male friends to let me run their lives!
But, seriously, folks... I love boys, even though I struggle to understand them. But even through my struggles I have seen what other women do not see. So many women labor under the bizarre delusion that boys (men) don't care and don't feel. I'd argue that they care and feel more, they just aren't allowed to siphon it off into bite sized morsels like girls do.
I've been reading "Raising Cain", mostly because I am obsessed with the psychology of boys and I want to know how to best nurture my son. I've had to put this book down every few pages because I've had too much to think about to continue. It occurs to me that I am overwhelmed and frightened by my small son's emotions. It is like a tsunami that overpowers me and leaves me clinging to street signs and trees sputtering for air. I've always said that there is nothing more terrifying than the sound of a man screaming because when a man screams you know something is really fucking wrong. The bottom drops out from the world. When a little boy screams and cries with such ferocity I can't help but grasp for a solution, an answer, anything to get rid of that horrible, heart wrenching sound. Sometimes a solution is not what is required, but letting the feeling happen and be acknowledged. But the intensity is too much to bear. Girls don't make that sound. Girls don't shatter in quite that way. Boys do. And then they pack up and move on and you're never 100% sure if they are whole or not.
I worry about boys. I deal with a lot of them in my work. There is a boy I work with who is so tough and defiant and yet whenever he sees me he runs to hug me and he holds onto me so tight. He never opens up to me and he gives me an incredible amount of grief. Sometimes I worry that these hugs are a touch of humor on his part, but I really don't think so. I think he honestly needs them. Truth be told, I'm crazy about this tough little boy who is at least a head taller than anyone in his class and absolutely dashing. Through his macho and boisterous exterior, I see a little boy who needs to be told that he is good, smart and kind so that he may will those parts of himself into the forefront of his life. I fear for his future because he has clearly been pegged as "bad", a "troublemaker", a "problem" and that just isn't the boy I see. He is, indeed, a handful and I have yet to figure out how to reach him and it seems he hasn't yet figured out just how to reach me. I hope we figure it out.
There is something so beautiful and so bittersweet about boys. They are poetry is super motion. They speak another, coarser language and they live in a dark and very private mystery. How I would love to be let in. How I would love to just hold and gently kiss the foreheads of all these lovely boys, tuck them in and tell them beautiful stories about dragons on spaceships fighting vampires and ghosts. Then I would give them hot lemonade with a bit of honey and tell them the mysteries of girls so they don't have to fear being swallowed by a woman.
But, alas, that is not what these boys seem to need the most. Not that they don't need that, but what they need even more are role models and heroes and a sign that being a boy is not a disease but a joy. No snips and snails and puppy dog tails for my boys, because that simply isn't true. Boys are beautiful creatures whether they are 5 or 55 and I wish I could let them know.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 10:38 PM
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