For Mothers of Sons: A Peek into the Minds of Boys

The Confounding thing it is to be a mother of sons

I told my kids I was going to write a post about what it’s like to have sons. According to my daughter, it’s a bad idea. Apparently, there are lots of posts out there for mothers of sons (MoS for short). According to my sons, it was GRUNT.


Being a MoS is very different than being a MoD (mother of daughters. Or in my case, mother of one very time consuming and emotionally draining daughter). Sons are different. Many people say that they’re easier to raise, and I have to concur. While they certainly can get up to a lot more ‘trouble’ than girls (this isn’t gender bias, it’s from empirical observation of a woman with 6 siblings, 3 kids of her own and 24 nieces and nephews) their ‘trouble’ seems to arise from a more simple and less complicated place, as does their whole outlook on life.


Remember. Boys are just small men (well, not mine. Mine are taller than me now). So they process and think like men. It’s all pretty linear. Or at least appears to be on the surface.


Here’s an example.


When she was younger, my daughter got in a fight with her friend and was accused of kicking or pushing. I asked her if she did it. The answer was, “Well, first she started to look at me funny and then my bag was slipping down and she said that my bag was dumb so then she said that her friends was going to tell that other girl that my dumb bag hit her and I got cold and I wanted a sweater and then I told her she’s not my friend and then she said…”  at which point I lost interest and started to think about whether 3:30 carpool was too early to start drinking.


When he was younger, one of my sons got in a fight with his friend and pushed him. I asked him if he did it. The answer was, “Yes.”


Do you see my point?


Anyways, since I’m a female, my sons never cease to amaze me with their interesting and colourful outlook on life and man-child way of doing things. While I’ve gotten used to being mooned by a big hairy butt at the dinner table (I do have two brothers after all), I still can’t fathom how someone can eat SEVEN pieces of chicken and still be hungry or drink an entire litre of milk without even taking a breath.


Also, while I totally understand the value of a nice big gaseous release (whether from the same hairy butt or by mouth), I don’t know why it a) is funnier while we are eating b) even more funny while I’m trapped in the car with them c) not possible to do in the privacy of anywhere that I’m not.


I won’t even get into food dares. Once they thought it would be totally the best to ‘let’ me join in on one of their games and I got unwittingly hot sauced. I still have nightmares.


Some other things that just escape me:


  • why it’s funny to wave your weiner in your friend’s face or take your clothes off just about anywhere or pee on the side of a building but it’s embarrassing to say hi to your mom at the mall
  • why it’s the best game ever to watch your friend stuff 14 cookies in his mouth at once and then make him laugh
  • how one can feel immense pride at the size of one’s bowel movements (sharing photos, natch) yet blush bright red when the doctor asks to see ‘down there’
  • how one can enjoy the feeling of orange juice bubbling out of one’s nose or refuse to shave the scratchy brand-new caterpillar growing atop one’s lip


But the most confounding of all boy things are the attitudes to personal hygiene.


Why wouldn’t any person with an ounce of logic realize that their paint-peeling breath is a dead give away for the whole wetting-the-toothbrush ruse?  Or that their pit stink isn’t a tell for the fact that no, they don’t have anymore deodorant or body wash left and they haven’t had any for at least one month*. Or how they can never ever have any dirty underwear to put in the laundry basket, but apparently do NOT go commando.


There are things I do understand now, though. The other day my sons explained two of their greatest mysteries to me.


1. Shower shits: If you haven’t noticed, sometimes your young man showers at random times of day after spending an extensive amount of time already in the loo. Apparently, these impromptu showers are necessitated by dumps so large that they cannot be dealt with by simple wiping. Who knew?


2. Why boys don’t like to bathe at all: because it’s too much work. It’s not that they don’t like to be clean, it’s that they don’t like to expend the effort getting that way. And so it begs to be asked, why stay in there for 30-45 minutes? This analogy was made: it’s like going to bed. You don’t want to do it, but once you’re in there, you don’t want to get out.


And that my friends, is a little peek into the mind of teenaged boys.


Stay clean x0x0x0 Mara


*It’s been requested that I tell you that these two things haven’t happened for approximately two years.


Note: At the time of this writing, the one who made me write the disclaimer just above was walking around with a piece of kleenex stuffed up his nose. 


P.S. In case you didn’t get the point, boys are somehow gross and disgusting and yet totally endearing at the same time. 






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