High Noon

11-4-11

High noon.

That’s when all the trouble begins. Isn’t it always? Thankfully this isn’t a showdown between good and evil. But it does present the dilemma.

Both Bobby and Dax have soccer games at the same time tomorrow.

Ok, sure, this doesn’t mean the end of the world, but in the land or parenting, this represents so very much in a young child’s mind. Which game will each parent watch? Does it mean mom loves me less because she watched my brother’s game instead of mine?

Oh, but it gets even more complicated. I am the assistant coach/team mom for Dax’s team, whereas Ken is the assistant coach/ref for Bobby’s team. I am also the team mom for Bobby’s team. This means there are certain responsibilities for Ken and I to be present during the bulk of our team’s game. This also means that we will effectively miss much of the opposite child’s game.

It would not be such a big deal had Bobby not said these very words to me the other day.

“Mom, why do you always go with Dax and I go with Daddy? If Daddy dies, who do I get to hang out with?”

What you would have heard next had you been standing there was the splash of my heart falling into my stomach acids and burning up inside.

It was true, though. Since Dax was an infant, I ended up being the parent with him. It came out of necessity at first. He was the baby, and Bobby was older, so as mom who also had the milk source, I held Dax while Ken held Bobby. It also didn’t help that Dax was hell bent on allowing no one but myself to comfort his cries.

But as the years have passed, I don’t know why this has kind of been the norm. It certainly isn’t due to any known favoritism. I adore Bobby just as much as Dax and I find their company equally entertaining. Bobby did get to bond with Ken for a good year with his tagging along to Ken’s classes. Dax didn’t get to do this as much, and this in turn also meant that he and I spent greater amounts of time together alone.

Whatever the reason, this presents a certain concern when it comes to game time tomorrow. Although the boys have not mentioned it, I am sure it will come up once we hit the field. The hope is that since the fields are supposed to be next to each other, I should be able to catch both games. In addition to this, Dax’s game is significantly shorter, which allows for watching the last part of Bobby’s game.

I still have this horrible feeling of guilt, though since it will mean feelings may be hurt.

I wish I knew how it would all turn out in advance, but I know that I will just have to wait for the sun overhead to signify the beginning. Wish me luck.

Raising a Better Boyfriend

10-20-11

I have raised the best boyfriends!

I stood outside the gate of the boys’ school, chatting with another mom, while we waited anxiously for our kindergarteners to be released. Dax was near the front, smiling happily at me, clearly using all of his strength to not push past the other kids to get to me.

Mrs. Fasheh had seen me already and was telling Dax he could go. Dax, however, stopped and tugged lightly at her hand. It was at this point I knew that whomever my little man married would be the luckiest person in the world.

“Mrs. Fasheh, isn’t my mom’s hair nice?” His voice was booming enough to carry his kind words to every parent there. The collective, “awww” was awesome, and I was so proud of my son.

What was especially great about these simple words was the purity involved. This wasn’t a ploy to get me to buy him a toy. This wasn’t his way of distracting anyone as he made a mess. This was true and genuine admiration for how his mom looked at this moment.

As if complimenting my style wasn’t enough, when we arrived home, I was treated to yet another wonderful exclamation.

“Wow, Mom! You cleaned the house! It looks fantastic! Thanks, Mom!” Bobby danced through the living room, impressed with my simple sweeping that I had done before retrieving them from school. I had done something that was necessary, but the appreciation from my 6 year old made it seem like I had gone to great lengths to better his living experience.

My boys notice the little things. They are thankful and express it often. It is these gestures that I do encourage, but never expect. I think that combination of teaching, along with their already kind hearts, will help them in the long run.

I have known men who treat their mothers poorly. I have known men who have treated their mother with disrespect. I have known men who have simply been indifferent to the woman who brought them into this world. I feel confident that when Bobby and Dax grow up, they will not be those men. Sure, their girlfriends may resent their mama boy status, but I think in the long run, they will thank me for the attention they will receive from them.