Scary Mommy: Mamaâ€™s Boys Arenâ€™t Cute At 35
I have a confession to make.
I am the mom whose goal was to raise mamaâ€™s boys. I loved how much they needed me. I loved doing things for them.
It was my twisted pleasure to find myself at 2AM sleepwalking between nursing a baby to comforting a boy who woke with a nightmare to helping another boy to the bathroom. I took pride in refusing help; taking all my boys with me to doctor appointments or errands, snubbing carpools to drive myself crazy instead. I catered three different meals at night, picked up their toys because it was easier, zipped my sonâ€™s jacket at five years-old and tied shoes at 10.
They asked and I answered. â€œCan you get me a snack? Can you pack my back pack? Can you can you can youâ€¦?â€
â€˜Yes! Mommy can!â€™ was my war cry.
And mommy did.
See honey, no one else will cut off those crusts, make you a perfect scrambled egg or wash your Spiderman shirt so you could wear it every day like I can. I may as well have said, â€œNever leave me!â€ while tucking them in at night.
Was it dysfunctional and co-dependent? Yup. Would I do it again? Probably.
Because I was happy and my kids were happy. We were one happy needy bunch of love and it was good. But now my boys are 6, 9 and 12, and I see things a little differently.
In fact, I see them at 35â€¦
They would be living at home of course because why would they leave?
There would be hair scruff in all the bathroom sinks, dirty underwear and socks on the floor and loud snoring from everyÂ bedroom.
I probably would suffocate from all the gas inhalation.
Or die from embarrassment when they run in on me in the bathroom to demand justice when one of them uses the others hair gel or finishes the last bag of Doritos.
I might have to put a cot by the washing machine and just sleep there.
And I would never just sit and enjoy a cup of steaming coffee in the morning, since Iâ€™d be dragging them out of bed for work â€“ if they had jobs â€“ and making them eggs, three different ways.
All of a sudden, raising mama boys didnâ€™t look as appealing.
So lately Iâ€™ve been loosening those ties a bit; giving them more independence and responsibility. My boys now get themselves dressed in the morning, wash up and tie their own shoes. They do their homework without my nagging. They do the recyclables and empty the dish washer. They put their clothes away. They know what they have to do and do it.
But weâ€™ll get there. Because now I see that you donâ€™t mess with the natural order of things. Children grow, you lovingly guide them on the road to being responsible and then you gently shove them out to greener pastures.
Of course, they must still call you daily, visit at least once a week and only marry girls you deem appropriate.
I may no longer want mama boys, but mamaâ€™s men just might work.
About the Author…
Alisa Schindler is a SAHM of three boys and wife to Mr. Baseball. In between schlepping to the ball fields and burning cupcakes, she chronicles the sweet and bittersweet of life in the suburbs on her blogÂ icescreammama.com. Her essays have been featured on NYT Motherlode, Scary Mommy, Mamapedia.com and Erma Bombeckâ€™s Writers Workshop, as well as Huffington Post and WhatToExpect.com, where she is a regular contributor. She has just completed a sexy womenâ€™s fiction novel that she would love you to read.