The Mama's Boy Myth

I spend a lot of time sitting in doctor's offices and waiting rooms because of Joe's many appointments.  The best only advantage of this is the variety of magazines and articles I get to read.  Look at all the money I'm saving by not ordering all those magazine subscriptions.  The point to all this is that I read an interesting article the other day in the Ladies' Home Journal - the May 2012 issue.  It was called "The Mama's Boy Myth".  So, I thought I'd contribute my thoughts as well.  Also, my comments are from my perspective as the mother to my son.  His perspective may be totally differently and he may remember/see things differently.  And, unless you fit into this category as a mother to a son, I think it would be hard to understand my feelings.  Here's the article...

"A couple of years ago I was going through a minor career crisis.

My employer had just changed my job description to include duties that I could certainly handle but which, in my opinion, didn't really exploit my strengths. I complained to my son, Paul, then 19. "Mom," he told me, "the problem is that they're playing you out of position."

As usual, Paul nailed it. I happened to mention his comment to a woman I barely knew and she told me that she often discusses work with her grown son -- that, in fact, they regularly call each other as they're leaving the office to rehash their workdays. She then went on to say how simpatico they are and how they share the same sense of humor.

This is Corey who actually WON the beauty pageant.  You have to have a sense of humor to do this!

 (I've always felt that Corey and I had a similar sense of humor.  People who know the both of us, often comment that he is just like me in humor, looks, mannerisms, etc.  I've been so privileged to have spent lots of time with Corey on a one-on-one basis, especially as he grew older.  Some of those countless times include:

• Trips to the grocery store and/or running errands.
• Out of town trips for cultural experiences i.e., going to Atlanta to see "Phantom of The Opera" or "Riverdance."
• Out of county trips to England, Scotland and France.
• Cross-country trip for two weeks and 16 states.

These trips have given me the opportunity to absorb that sense of humor - many times I've seen a side of him I might never have gotten acquainted with if it were not for those long 24/7 days together.  He made me laugh - genuinely laugh.  He still makes me laugh.  He makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I have to beg him to stop before I pee in my pants!  I love how he used to dance around me when I would walk track.  I love that sweet face that used to tickle my face and say "jibby, jibby, jibby".)  In fact, she confided, the time she spends with her son evokes a profound tenderness that she doesn't experience with anybody else.  (I, too, agree with this mom.  The time I spent and spend with my son has always been different from any other man in my life.  Maybe it's because I tried so long and hard to be able to have a child and then when I finally discovered I was pregnant there was that moment when I thought I was going to miscarry.  Maybe it's because I almost did lose him when he was 13 months old when he experienced seizures and extremely high fevers.  Maybe it's because we spent so much time together due to his dad's work schedule.  Maybe it's because he was there for me after the divorce.  I always tried to shield him from the bad parts of my marriage and my grief, but sometimes he would catch me sobbing and hurting so badly and he was the one who offered his shoulder and strong arms to comfort me). 

I was stunned: She could have been describing, almost word for word, my own feelings. Paul, who's now 22, "gets me" like no one else. We finish each other's sentences (don't think we ever did this one) and share dozens of inside jokes (but, we definitely have and did/do this one.  We even did this around his father). We can intuit each other's moods without even speaking. And I confess that I still get a little thrill when I see his number on my caller ID (so true and it makes my day when I get a simple text that simply says "I love you Mommy).

As this woman and I continued our unexpectedly intimate conversation, she told me she'd never before opened up to anyone about the intensity of her feelings for her son. I could relate. She and I were talking about a level of emotional connection that is usually associated only with mother-daughter relationships. If I were to tell people how close I am with Paul's older sister, no one would bat an eye. But moms rarely talk about a similar bond with their sons, partly because there seem to be no words, no examples, no context, in which to describe it without raising eyebrows. Many of us have gotten the subtle message that there's something "off" about a close mother-son attachment. So we mostly keep quiet about it, even though this relationship is one of the major delights in our lives.

Let me be clear: My son and I are very close, but we are not each other's best friend (and, I shouldn't be Corey's best friend.  That should be Nikki.. Nor, for that matter, am I my daughter's best friend. (I've gotten that memo from both kids: I am their mother, not their pal.) Also, Paul is more than six feet tall, plays ice hockey, and is a highly independent guy. (Hmmm, sounds like Corey, except he played football and basketball, not ice hockey).  Why do I feel the need to mention this? Because in this culture, I must reassure everyone (including myself) that our deep emotional connection hasn't compromised my son's masculinity.  (I was questioned by Les one time when I made the decision that Corey could sleep with a doll.  Buddy was his name.  He was like a Cabbage Patch doll and was given to him by his Aunt Susan.  I saw no harm in his sleeping with a doll.  As an only child, he had no one to sleep with and it was a comfort to him to have someone to "talk" to when he went to bed.  Besides, I thought it might also bring out a nurturing side to him that he would need later in his life).

The question we should be asking, of course, is why, nearly half a century since the advent of modern feminism, there's still such a double standard.

Think about it. There's practically a small industry that encourages mother-daughter bonding, from spa discounts to hundreds of books on the subject. And father-son camaraderie is all but enshrined in the parenting hall of fame. Dads and sons are inundated with cultural cues to play catch, shoot some hoops, or watch a game together.

Fathers and daughters? All systems are go: A father's support, experts agree, is essential to his daughter's self-esteem. And today's dads are strongly urged to be part of their daughters' lives, whether it's coaching their sports teams or escorting them to a father-daughter dance. (Can you imagine a high school sponsoring a mother-son dance? Yeah, me neither.)

If a father flouts gender stereotypes and teaches his daughter a traditional masculine task (working on a car engine, for example), he's one cool dad. The electrician husband of my friend Hannah was just named "Hero Dad" by the PTA of his daughter's all-girl middle school after he gave a one-hour workshop on how to rewire a lamp. But a mom who teaches her son a "feminine" skill, like knitting? Uh, what is she trying to do to that boy?  (No knitting or crocheting for me or Corey.  But he did like painting.  In fact, he'd "borrow" my paints to add accessories to his cars and trucks.  I did do things though like take him grocery shopping and taught him about price comparisons and how to buy food.  I taught him how to wash and dry his clothes.  I taught him how to cook.  I taught him how to make his bed.  I gave him the means to appreciate art, music, cultural arts and old cemeteries and history).

Even when a mother helps her son talk about his feelings, she's risking criticism -- often from a source uncomfortably close to home. (Some of my most profound conversations with Corey came when discovering a hidden shoebox.  And, there was the conversations that took place upon his return home from his mission.  I will go no further in explaining those as they are deeply personal and not for public consumption).  My husband, Michael, is a warm, loving man and a terrific dad -- really. But I can remember many occasions when he reacted as if I was tormenting our son when, say, I encouraged Paul to open up after a heartbreaking soccer loss. "Stop interrogating him," Michael would chide.  (The majority of good close conversations took place after the divorce when it was just the two of us).

Just the other day, my friend Caitlin reports, her 11-year-old son, Jack, came home from middle school visibly upset. When she put her arm around him and asked him what the trouble was, her husband snapped, "Leave the kid alone." But Caitlin persisted, and it turned out that Jack had gotten into a fight with his best friend, leaving him hurt and confused. He was clearly relieved to be able to sort out his emotions with his mom and to discuss ways to handle the situation.

As women, of course, we know how to put these kinds of feelings into words. Boys and men do not. So the world regards mother-daughter gabfests as therapeutic while thinking it's okay to let sons withdraw into muteness and grapple with their worries alone. I can't count the times I've witnessed people not just accept, but embrace, appalling stereotypes about boys. A respected psychologist speaking at my kids' school a few years ago informed the audience that "Boys don't talk" and told us not to worry if our sons replied simply with grunts. Please. How will these boys get through life if they can't communicate? Besides, in my experience, boys are perfectly capable of articulating their thoughts, given the right environment. (Like many moms, I discovered that the car is a great place to get a son talking. (A whole lot of conversations took place in the car between Corey and I.  Some of my funnest, funniest and most memorable conversations took place there.  And, once again, spending 24/7 together for two week intervals helps promote a whole lot of conversations too).  Paul divulged some of his thorniest problems and biggest triumphs on the way to and from soccer practice.)

Boys, we constantly hear, are "in crisis." Small wonder: They're bombarded with mixed messages. On one hand, they're supposed to be cool, tough, stoic, and strong; on the other, being overly macho makes them seem clueless, backward, and ripe for mockery. And they're expected to respect women while also having to compete with them, first in the classroom and then in the workplace.

Well, I believe one of the reasons boys are struggling is that they lack the emotional intelligence and verbal skills that their mothers could help them develop. We moms are also in the best position to help combat the crudest elements of a culture that sabotages boys' natural sensitivity and empathy.
Moms like me are tired of hearing that we should back off from our sons in the name of manhood. Here's a news flash from the 21st century: By offering our sons an emotional education, we're not creating wimpy men who cling to their mothers -- we're helping half the population reach its full human potential."  (There is so much more I could say about Corey and the way he turned out.  I don't take full credit.  There have been his grandparents, other family members, church members, scout leaders, school teachers, Nikki and, of course, his father.  And, as Corey's life becomes even more busy with Nikki and Derek, I realize that our relationship will diminish from what it was.  I already see that happening now and that's just the way it is).