Raising My Boys

I was raised in a world where the women rule the man. My grandmother has four girls who are blessed with children of eight girls and two boys. The boys in our family are so out numbered. Off course, the second generations have their spouses, but like my dad, if they could they would buy their ticket out avoiding my mom and her three sisters gossiping the hottest gossip of the months. So, we all essentially grew up in the women’s club. My grandmother is an extraordinary woman herself. I guess the way she lead her life has inspired all of us, the girls to be successful in life. Unfortunately, raising boys is seemed not to be the family specialty. I could say all of these eight granddaughters are successful, but the two grandsons are barely made it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my cousins dearly, they are the perfect gentlemen and favorite by the ladies. And, because of the ladies like them, they could not decide to stick with one, even after they vowed to be loyal and wedded husband. Because the men are considered rare in the family and men are considered more precious than the girls. This is especially true if they are the first-born son who would then continue the name of the family and so on. Indeed they were raised differently, maybe that would explain why the men in our family are considered more “lazy.” They will always have a woman to cover their work; at the minimum their mother would help them. When I’m blessed with two boys. Am I freaking out? You bet. Like most parents, I’m haunted by the most ultimate question. Am I a good mother? Or are we good parents so our children will survive in the jungle of life? My mom, especially, always added my concerns. By pointing out the bad examples of man in our family. The point is don’t make mistake in raising boys like the second generations did. I do hope that my boys one day will not be womanizer and have a good career. And, hopefully they are not turn into some kind of drugs addicts or gay (I have a couple of long-distance uncles who turned up to be gay and my husband’s cousins many are becoming addicts). Certainly, we have more expectations for the boys and perhaps the boys are more vulnerable than having girls. Though, if I think it more, actually the environment factor risks between being a boy or a girl perhaps are the same. My little rascals Looking at the close family circle, my sister has a daughter and from my husband side, his two sisters have daughters. So, we have these boys surrounded by more women. Compared to others, my boys are challenging. They are very active, and we could feel sometime when people look at us in the mall and I can see in their eyes judging how lucky they are for not having children like us. Just to illustrate, when all these little girls are sitting nicely having meal eat by themselves in good table manner, my boys will be running around and the nannies will have to chase after them feeding them. The truth, I hate it. My grandmother would say yes, that is the different between boys and girls and will start shaking her head. Though, sometimes they misbehaving make people smile, off course I have to look mad if they did. They are my little rascals. My oldest son is not the biggest fan of eating; feeding him is a torturous for both of us. It is a real battlefield. Raising boys is exhausting, we envy sometimes for those who has more “normal” (obedient) kids. To me having more than two kids is out of the question! But, I can’t imagine living without my two little “angels”. I love my boys so much and come to think of it they make me laugh with their silly act. There is no day without smile and laugh. When I do my shalat prayer, they will be all over me. The small one would go under my skirt or they would be just on top of me. It’s annoying, but I know I will miss it one day, when they grow up. Someone told me that mom of a boy is very lucky. To a boy, mom is the first woman that he saw and their first love. I felt their love every single seconds I spend with them. Sometimes, I wonder if they are big enough and they found the love of their life to begin another life; would the women they choose sees me like their rival or would they love me like my boys do? But again, I might know the answer another thirty years or so from now. A mommy to 5 and 3 years old boys.