The Secret To Raising A House Full of Boys

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Got the news of the gender of my third baby soon to arrive.  I walked into my brother’s office, took my right foot waving back and forth and he rolled over laughing.  If you are too young to know, that was the start of the 1960’s comedy series, My Three Sons.  And with the birth of my third, I joined a special club of moms who have three boys.  The man upstairs most certainly knew what was good for me.

As a kid I was a tomboy, I hated shopping, I loved playing sports and was basically drama-less.  Yes, feeding into all the typical stereotypes. But alas, I had my little team.  And with my guys, we played every sport and everything was a game.  We played balloon tennis with a tie as the net.  Tee ball, baseball, flag football, roller hockey, skating and skate boarding, golf, tennis, water polo, swimming, track and field and the list continues.  I was a participant and a proud spectator for all.

But there was only one sport that I could not handle, both in and out of the house.

Wrestling….

When little boys, or to be PC, when MY little boys got into an argument, they were not verbal.  And this was where I knew the line was drawn between being male and female.  When the fight turned into a wrestling match, I completely freaked out.  At first, I tried to break up the fight.  And of course, as they got bigger that was certainly not going to work.  So my choice was to leave.  If I didn’t see the fight, it wasn’t happening.  They had to work it out themselves.  If there was blood, I knew they would find me.

As it turns out, that is the way I ended up dealing with a lot of situations.

Purposeful abandonment.

I let my guys use each other as a social laboratory.  If they pushed too hard or too far, their brother would kick the shit out of them, so to speak.  They learned not to try it on others in the outside world.  If they verbally abused, and it was not successful, they most certainly learned not to do that to others.  Had I broken up the battles, they may have missed out on those valuable lessons.  And of course, as their mom, I couldn’t ALWAYS walk away.  But I did quite often.

And my three MEN are strong, independent and productive today. Lots of parenting styles, and although forever present, my helicopter was left in the garage.

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