Dudes –

Boys need men. That doesn’t mean they need fathers or brothers, etc. but they need men in their lives. (And – yes, they need women. And, girls need men and women in their lives, too.)

Today, I am speaking specifically about our son. My little bunny boy who used to love Curious George and Toy Story now also loves THE AVENGERS! (No not the 60’s TV series with Diana Rigg) If you haven’t seen the series it is super heroes – the Green Lantern, Super Man, Bat Man, the Hulk, Thor, Spider Man, Iron Man, etc., etc., etc. There are a lot of them. Thorin thinks it’s called The Mad Show because all the characters yell at each other. He also thinks they are the best thing since sliced bread. These guys kick butt and so does Thorin after watching any of it.

His baby doll – which I admit I was sort of thrilled he wanted one lo so many months ago – no longer gets cradle in his arms but instead fights Woody from Toy Story. That baby beats the crap out of Woody every time. Their battles are punctuated by growling and yelling – his not theirs.

Since Thorin’s speech has progressed there is one thing he has no interest in talking about. Feeling talk is verboten. I have tried numerous tacks to get him to express his feelings. A few times in the car because with my back is to him I thought it may make it easier. I have been told in a combination of signing and speaking to “just drive” or “turn the music back on”. I suspect if Ward thought he could get away with it he would respond similarly when I say to him “I want to talk”.

We had a major break through this week. I asked Thorin if he “ever wanted to ask me about anything but didn’t no how to ask”.

“No.”

“Can we talk about how you are feeling?”

“No!”

Do you like to talk about what you are doing?”

“Yesith!”

Little boys are from Mars and Mommies are from Venus.

When Ward and Thorin play they yell, crawl around on the floor and usually somebody gets hurt. They go to Chucky Cheese. (Which could be added as the tenth circle of hell to Dante’s Inferno)

When I play with Thorin I remind him to put the cap back on the markers, clean up after lunch and put his books away. (I am the Felix Unger of mothers) My only saving grace is Thorin and I do go to the beach a lot.

My Aunt Betty lived in a house with four males – her husband and three sons. I would make a yearly visit to see her and I became the center of her female starved universe for those few days. We talked endlessly about clothes, movie stars and feelings. She would buy me outfits and I would put on a fashion show for her when we got back to the house. Even then I knew why hanging out with me was important.

I am not a dude.

Footnote: Thorin starts dance class next Saturday – his idea- and karate – his occupational therapists idea –  in the winter.

This entry was posted in By Notatypicalmom, Inclusion, Marriage, Parenting, Random life by Kari Wagner-Peck. Bookmark the permalink.

About Kari Wagner-Peck

Kari Wagner-Peck lives with her husband and son in Maine. She is a writer & storyteller who home schools with her son. She has a M.S.W. and has been at various times a practicing social worker, documentary videographer, film festival director and retail clerk. She is the author of Not Always Happy: An Unusual Parenting Journey, May, 2017, Central Recovery Press. She has been published at The New York Times Well Family blog, The Huffington Post, The The Good Men Project, The Sydney Morning Herald Daily Life blog, BLOOM and Love That Max among others. Author page: kariwagnerpeck.com Twitter @KariWagnerPeck and Facebook: www.facebook.com/NotAlwaysHappyLive/ Email: kariwagnerpeck@gmail.com

One thought on “Dudes –

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s