Ten (+1)Things I Didn’t Know When I Joined M.O.B.*

*Mothers Of Boys – a distinct and separate reality

10 – That when the kids were elementary school age and I took them with me everywhere, when they needed to use the bathroom I’d be stuck outside it, hovering like a perv, and yelling at the closed door, “Are you all right in there?” or, sometimes, reduced to asking total strangers – who might be pervs – to see if my kid was still alive in there.

9 – That our culture TRULY had gone off the deep end. Or that any playground monitor in her right mind would try to refer to the police – for sexual harassment – a nine year old kid who – by happenstance – touched a female classmate on the behind while trying to get attention. And that same playground monitor would refuse to believe the kid had no clue there was anything sexual about the behind. (We owned no TV and he was not very “aware” in that way.)

8 – That, as they got older, sometimes the conversation at the table would make absolutely no sense to me. The boys and their father would be ostensibly speaking English and I don’t think it was on highly technical subjects, but I had no idea what they were talking about.

7 – That sometimes I’d function as an interpreter to them, when they interact with the female world of teachers, secretaries and even female friends, “No, honey, what they really mean is…”

6 – That my kids would consider themselves highly traumatized by the times I dragged them to the fabric shop (we never left them with babysitters much) to the point that – nowadays – when we’re off on errands they say “Oh, don’t tell me we’re stopping at the horrible place. I have bad memories…”

5 – That sometime around their early teens boys become interested in cooking, and, if you don’t start teaching them, highly creative. “What do you mean you used all of my jumbo pack of dehydrated onion in an omelet? And you ate it? Ew!” – creative. Or “chocolate, peanut butter, onion and garlic salad dressing” creative.

4 – That it would give me a whole new insight on males. I don’t know how to explain this, except, having been a girl, and having watched the boys and their friends grow up, that boys seem curiously unprotected in the face of the world. It’s like girls have fewer illusions and more technique when dealing with reality. I think I write male characters better because of this, because while it’s hard to encapsulate, it’s impossible to ignore.

3 – That some words would cause everyone in the house but me to crack up at the same time when I’m not trying to be funny – yeah, I know they can be euphemisms, but for heaven’s sake, my hobby IS working with wood. And I DO use tools for that. (All the male readers: STOP GIGGLING. JUST STOP.)

2 – That – Awesome – my clothes never get “borrowed” without permission. Well, save for Halloween three years ago when my white, ruffled blouse became a pirate shirt for one exciting evening. (I hope it enjoyed itself!)

1 – That – Even more Awesome – I’d always have playmates to relive my tomboy days with. The current manifestation of this is that everyone in the house has his own nerf sword, and that it’s not unusual for one of us (not always the boys!) to jump into the hallway bellowing a challenge (my favorite, of course, being “To me, musketeers!” or “En guarde!”) and for the entire hallway to become a scene of mayhem as the other three people in the house join in and the cats try to “help.”

– And the top thing I didn’t know about raising boys: That as they become young adults, I miss having little troublemakers underfoot and wish I could do it all again.