I love being a mom to boys. Really, I do. With a few exceptions, there's not a lot of worry about everyday stuff. We don't worry too much about hair (although Bug has to make sure his isn't standing up somewhere every morning before he's off to the bus stop for school and Jock will get worse after football season is over... apparently the gel he uses makes the inside of his helmet beyond gross. Who knew?), hardly ever about accessories beyond the occasional ball cap, and never about shoes (its either running shoes or cleats... not much to decide between there). However, where I thought it would be easier than girls (ha!), it hasn't been. Nope. Not so much.
Take the whole "birds and bees" talk. When we first had boys, I assumed (and you know what they say about "assume"?? Yep... ) that good 'ole Coach would handle puberty. I mean, what could I possibly know about being a teenage, hormone riddled, testosterone driven boy? Granted, I've got brothers. I've got male cousins. And I did my fair share (ok, maybe a bit more than my fair share..... but who was counting?) of dating boys throughout high school. But I never actually was a boy. So yeah, I figured I could count on Coach to guide our sons through this period of their lives with wisdom and just the right amount of "I'm your friend AND your dad" thrown in. With the occasional discussion on why boys should NOT snap the bra straps of the girls in their classes added from me. Huh. Wonder what went wrong there?
Now, that's not to say that Coach hasn't helped me talk about these things with the boys. No.... he just waits until I've started the "talk", and then he comes in and plays clean up. I suppose I should add, in fairness to Coach, that the boys have always come to me first with their questions (that, or I've been the one to catch them in things!). And I've never quite completely subscribed to the "Go ask your dad" theory that so many moms have done for centuries. No, I believe in tackling a problem head on. So part of this whole dilemma is of my making. I accept that. However, that doesn't mean Coach needs to always walk out of the room because he can't help smiling and mentally patting himself on the back for genetically creating such a fine specimen of boyhood. I mean, really. Sheesh.
Here's some of the things I've been the one to begin the talks about:
Body odor: PLEASE, for the love of all that is sacred....WEAR THE DEODORANT!!!
Body hair in places other than your head: I know it itches, and I'm sorry. There's really nothing you can do until it grows in enough.
Internet Porn: Honestly, I'm ok with the fact that you're curious. (And if I'm being really honest with myself, I was glad to see exactly what it was you were curious about.) However, this is the FAMILY computer, and I would really rather your little brother not be in the middle of a game and have some woman's boobs (or worse) pop up on the screen. Ask your dad. I'm sure that if he doesn't (as if!) have any magazines around he'd be happy to get them for you.
Ummm... Self Attention: Yeah. I know its gonna happen. I just ask that you put the towel/pillowcase in the laundry hamper and not under your bed for me to find. **Coach pointed out that this is what the bathroom and the shower are for. Occasionally he's a brilliant man!
Heat Rash/Jock Itch: Dude, I can't help you on this one. I've never had to deal with it. You really should ask your dad. However, I do know that powder in your shorts is a good thing.
This wasn't what I was originally going to blog about today. But now I can't remember where I was going to go with it either.
I love being a mom to boys. Really, I do.