A mother acknowledges reality

Raising Male Chauvanist Pigs

My mother, wise woman that she is, explained to me I was acting like a child, overreacting to erroneously perceived snubs. In her words – “Grow up, CarolAnn.” She suggested I watch the boys play with their father and see if I could recognize the dynamics of the father-son relationship at work. Although I protested mightily, saying there wasn’t going to be any dynamic worth noticing, she wore me down and extracted a promise from me to observe them over the next week.

So I did – reluctantly at first, but then with growing interest. I saw that my sons were maturing physically and emotionally at an astounding rate, and I saw things in their personalities that I didn’t know existed. Surprisingly to me, my husband did. I saw the emerging aggressiveness of my oldest son being channeled into constructive physical activity and the development of a protection instinct. I saw my youngest son becoming more and more self-reliant, losing the tendency to run to Mommy for the slightest little scrape and bruise and handling confrontations with the neighborhood children without resorting to fights.

I saw my sons becoming men.

Light dawned with a blinding flash. Humility came with it like a speeding semi-truck. I suddenly realized that I can’t teach my sons how to be men.

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