Seven years ago my eldest son was nominated to be inducted into the National Beta Club. His school required that all nominees dress up for the induction ceremony. So I purchased him a new pair of black dress slacks, a white collared shirt, and a beautiful red silk necktie. Normally my son ironed his own clothes, but the proud mother in me wanted him to look extra sharp; so that morning I took the liberty of ironing his program attire.
He showered, got dressed, and walked into my room to get my final nod of approval; or so I thought. As I was admiring how handsome he looked, I noticed he didn’t have on his tie. Before I could ask him about it, he casually handed it to me and asked me if I could show him how to tie it. For a brief moment time stopped. As I stood there helplessly holding this perfectly ironed beautiful red tie, my super mom persona crashed to the ground and shattered into a million tiny insignificant pieces.
When I purchased the tie, it never dawned on me that neither he nor I knew how to tie a necktie. I suddenly realized that prior to that moment, my son had only worn clip on bowties and neckties. The most surreal epiphany that morning was being presented with the reality that his father, whom I had recently divorced, would not be a part of our sons daily lives to provide counsel, teach, motivate, or share a fist pound when small yet important life events such as this happened.
Thoughts were frantically racing through my mind. I was smiling and telling my son how handsome he looked all while having an internal meltdown. I knew kids could smell fear, and as my mind desperately scrambled about searching for a solution, I wondered if they could also smell anguish and despair.
Reality Sinks In
In that instant, I recognized that there were some things that I would never experience, thoughts I would never have, or emotions I would never feel simply because I was a woman. I realized that I could teach my son to be a kind, honest, and loyal person. Hell, I could even teach him to be a great orator, a world-class pianist, or even an Astrophysicist; but I could never teach him how to feel, act, and think as a man.
Simply put, I couldn’t teach my son how to be a man. I would never be able to teach my sons how to stand and pee in a men’s urinal, or relate to the pride boys feel when they start sprouting their peach fuzz of a mustache. I couldn’t model these things for my sons any more than a father could model pushing through contractions during childbirth for his daughters.
I became keenly aware of my newly discovered limitations and understood that as a woman, I would never be able to speak, teach, or relate to my son from a man’s perspective about things that are unique to the male experience.
Skewed Vision
This was such a sobering moment for me because my childhood and my marriage had led me to believe that I could indeed teach my sons how to be a men. My brother and I were raised by our mother in a single parent home. My father was accessible, but he wasn’t present daily in our home. The view through my rose colored lenses showed that my mother had done an excellent job teaching my brother to be a man.
Let’s see, my brother has never been incarcerated or on drugs. He graduated high school and proudly served his country as a Marine. He’s a devoted husband and father, and has worked in his dream career for over 25 years. He wouldn’t be the man he is today without my mother’s rearing. I thought she had taught him all of the things he needed to know to be a good person and an upstanding citizen which in my eyes made him a man.
When we were growing up, my brother would often make the statement that my mother liked me better than him. Ironically, I always thought the opposite of that because she doted on him, went above and beyond to ensure that he was exposed to everything, and fought tooth and nail for him in any situation. I assumed he thought she liked me more because we did a lot of girly stuff together. It never occurred to me that he was missing someone to bond with, share his male thoughts with, and play catch with.
It was never top of mind for me because my mom played catch, road skateboards, bikes, and mopeds with him. I don’t think my mother or I thought about how different those experiences would have been for him if they were done with a man. I’m guessing my mom never thought about it because she didn’t have the luxury of lamenting over what was not there, she had a son to raise. I never thought about it, well because I was a child that didn’t recognize the brevity of my brother’s missing link.
I suspect at some point my mother recognized that she could not teach my brother how to be a man, but understood the importance of having a consistent positive male presence in his life. She diligently surrounded him with good men that could model for him daily.
Because my ex-husband worked extremely long hours, by default I ended up spending a lot more time with our sons than he did. I functioned as a single parent that had the added bonus of being married. I wholeheartedly believed that because I spent the lion’s share of time with our sons and usually made most of the important decisions concerning their rearing that I was teaching them to be men. I potty trained them, I decided what schools they would attend, I decided what their bedtime was, I signed them up and took them to every boy scout meeting, little league game, and Tae Kwon Do practice imaginable. I taught them to be manner-able, respectful, and self-sufficient.
I believed my influence in their life was just as, if not more, significant than their father’s. I also believed that I was just as effective at raising my sons to be men as my mother had been with my brother. I clearly understood that my sons had a different relationship with their father. I recognized that they truly respected him and thought of him as a super hero. I also recognized that they behaved differently with him than they did with me.
For instance, if they fell and hurt themselves with him they didn’t cry or require a hug and an ambulance as they did with me. With him they were more competitive, rambunctious, and just all around boys. I chalked the difference in behavior up to boys being boys. And it was simply just that, but in a deeper and more meaningful way that I would never be able to fully comprehend.
Acceptance of the Truth
What I know for sure is that men communicate and connect with each other in a very different manner than women do. I recognize that as a woman that I would never be able to fully understand or explain my son’s primal urge to hunt, innate desire to protect, or his need to challenge for dominance. I could never explain from a man’s perspective the challenges of dating and how rejection or heartbreak truly affect males mentally and emotionally.
I would never be able to explain the importance of the role physical connection (i.e. roughhousing and contact sports) plays for males in bonding, understanding boundaries, building relationships, and learning to trust. I’m a strict disciplinarian, but it took some time for me to understand that males learn to correct undesired behavior through consequence rather than communication.
I am a great mother and I have positively impacted my son’s lives in so many ways. However, I now understand that my greatest efforts as a mother, will never allow me to fill in gaps from a male’s point of view, answer questions from a male’s perspective, or model behavior from a male’s experience.
I don’t think we really consider, understand, or realize that becoming a man or woman is not intuitive. Yes, the physical growth occurs naturally, but everything else is learned, modeled, and taught. Up until the necktie incident untied my neatly wrapped beliefs, my ignorance about my capacity as a woman to raise my sons to be men was monumental.
That incident provided clarity for me as to what my gifts as well as my limitations are as a woman that has been gifted with the opportunity to raise male children. I now know that there are clear psychological and physiological gaps, that as woman, I will never be able to bridge for my sons. As such, I welcome and appreciate the male guidance and influence that the men in their village provide for him.
By the way my son’s sixth grade male homeroom teacher ended up tying his tie for him that morning. As for me, I found a video on YouTube that allowed me to never be in that predicament again. Moms revel in the fact that our sons expect us to be their everything but be honest and courageous enough to recognize that we are not. Mothers we can raise our sons to be phenomenal beings, but we can never teach our sons what it means to be a man. Moms make it your mission to identify good male role models that can teach them the things you can’t, answer the question you don’t even know to ask, and make them comfortable in their manly skin.
BMWK, Do you feel different raising a son versus a daughter?