My son and I enjoy every moment we spend together, possible since we share some very similar interests. I would have loved to have a daughter as well at times when I walk through kids clothing sections. I had not realized that having a son can change my personality or how I viewed life in general. Catching up with a good friend we happened to stumble upon the topic of children, now that’s not a very hard topic between mothers but in my case it does get a bit odd because most of my friends my age have smaller kids, going to pre-school or lower secondary. My son is in college so you can feel my predicament, I don’t have the same problems. However, we do agree that raising boys and raising girls are entirely two different things.
As she goes on to explain her suffocation on how she could not stand and watch one of the boys in his typical behaviour at an event in school, which for me did not really seem any strange. But then I realized she had two adorable girls who played make believe tea parties and teacher games, or the most they would get into was when they start screaming at each other. Whereas in my house, though I only have one boy, there were other boys who were mostly around and were either confused into believing my living room was a basketball court or a playstation game center. I am used to getting hugs from stinky, dirty hands and that would be the most genuine, sincere effort to shower me with affection. I had to disguise veggies into meat burgers and anything green was considered unhealthy. By far, I could get away with made up torture stories but eventually google got the most of me and I could not lie any more. Jeans could never be washed and I only managed to change furniture or have a breakable vase in my house after my son turned 18. I do not own anything in pink and my living room will always be a mess. So, my friend’s little incident did not seem at all so violent in my eyes but I am not surprised at her reaction.
My life mostly revolved around my work or chauffering the boys around for whatever events were planned. For birthdays, after a game of bowling or football we would stack up on pizza or burgers. One day, I clearly remember how I would have loved to switch tables with another all girls group a few tables apart. It was so peaceful and the little ladies had their napkins on their laps and ate using fork and knives and having lady like conversations. Those pretty little things knew how to use cutlery, while here at my table, Pepsi was poured into Fanta, Fanta into 7Up, ketchup into Sprite to experiment the wonderful tastes. I watch the boisterous racket and chuckle to myself. I think I like this. I don’t really know how too much quiet feels like. Bloody knees, scratched cuffs…bandaids and almost always breaking bones..I don’t know how I did it..raise a boy ..I mean.
And, today as I wind up on a shoot I was commissioned for I wait for my tall dark handsome boy to come pick me up.
I do know I couldn’t have had it any other way…God’s Perfect plan!