First there were the girls …
Having daughters scared the life out of me! I grew up as the only sister to two younger brothers. Hubby grew up as the brother to an older brother. I figured that neither one of us knew a thing about raising girls.
Then we had a son, and I figured that raising a son would be a breeze! We both grew up in male dominated households. Also, I work primarily with teen boys, and prefer that reality to working with teen girls much of the time, as they are so honest, and there is so much less guesswork with what they are thinking. For another, ‘they say’ that boys are easier than girls …
I have to admit that in my arrogance, I felt that if I had co-raised two daughters who seem rather well adjusted (only future counseling will reveal the truth of that) a son would be a walk in the park. After all he was just the best baby a mother could ever hope for, and so thoughtful and kind to his mother, surely adolescence would be flawless … right?
I have come to the conclusion that males do have emotions, and that there are times when the floodgates of sorrow, injustice, and anger flow over their banks and cause chaos and catastrophe for all around. Not only are they emotional, but they are also louder at being emotional! Their highs are higher and their lows lower. Plus they speak a language, complete with unique meaning and understanding of what they are saying, that my ears and mind can not comprehend.
In the past few months I feel as though I have been the ‘bad guy’ more than not …. and I am not even a GUY!
The surprising part of this is that when our son was born, I was often heard to say, “God gave me a son so that, when the girls are older, and don’t want to talk to me, I will always have a son who will adore me.” I was so wrong!
Sometimes it seems as though he is actually trying to pick a fight with me, and I am certain that I am at risk of severing my tongue from biting it so often.
But then we have a moment, a time when we can laugh together (over my singing loudly while wearing his headphones), a time when he believes again that he can trust me, a time when he understands that I am offering him mercy, and a second chance … it is then that we make eye contact, and I am reminded of the frightening nine months of praying us through the pregnancy, of my hopes and dreams for him, of the gift from God that he is to me … and the rest just doesn’t matter …
I also think about how one day, he will have a child just like him … and I smile even more!
itsawonderfilledlife 