Warning: Creating default object from empty value in /nfs/c03/h06/mnt/50160/domains/aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com/html/wp-content/themes/canvas/functions/admin-hooks.php on line 160
Tag Archives | raising kids blog

How Boys Survive Their First Fight Without Mom Crying

The Pope is in the beginning of his next grand adventure of the ultimate test of his Catholic faith. Do you think he will write? Wouldn’t it be a bummer for him if the atheists were right, or reincarnation is correct and he gets to come back as a flea?  Can I go to hell for that?

I was 18 when Pope John Paul II became il papa. Disco and the band Journey were still popular, and my own father died August of that year: 1978.

I think it is kinda cool that the Pope will go out in the middle of March Madness. Is that a sign for the NCAA?

Speaking of contact sports-

This week my son got into his first real fight. He lost. The other boy is 12. He’s got a nice shiner on his left cheek. When my ex husband called and told me, then handed the phone to my son, I sucked wind. I probably inhaled my carpet.  I’m not sure.  It’s the call you never want to get – even if he is a boy.  Nothing was broken, except some of his pride. He’s 9 going on 10, so yes, that whole male-pride thing is beginning.

He was upset, but to my surprise fairly ok. This must be one of those great guy-club secrets. Because girlfriends, if some witch bruised my cheek when I was 9 I would have found a way to get even later – even if I was 65. I just think, as women, we don’t roll the same in this arena.

I asked my son if he was scared when it came down. The boy had pushed him, and Brian pushed the boy to the ground. When the boy got up he came with a running punch to the face. It knocked Brian down. That must have come as one hell of a surprise.

Brian sighed, “NO! I was really mad. I don’t like being shoved for no reason from a kid that’s being mean.” “Ok”, I thought, “Neither do I.” I realized at that moment Brian was somehow different. His voice sounded older.

Fast forward to today and he wears that bruise like some sort of badge of honor. In his head he is not the loser of the fight. He was brave. He even tried bossing me around today.

I gave him a get out of jail free card this time.

I dropped him off for a sleepover at my brother’s girlfriend’s house. Her sons are 10 and 14. It’s a boy’s house and I  like her. The boys ran up as we parked – glad to see Brian. As the three walked up the driveway they were inspecting the bruise and exchanging old fight stories and injuries. Brian had just become a member of the boys fight club.

I bet that fight story becomes like mens fishing stories.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am not in favor of violence. It bothers me that he was punched in the face. I would much rather someone use their head over their fist – every time. I also understand the laws of nature. I understand this type of thing is a part of a boys growing up.

This week seemed to be about stages. The Pope moves on to his next stage. We move the clocks forward to the next stage of the year. Brian moved to the next stage of boyhood. And, I’ve started this new stage of writing again after 25 years of silence.

Until next time-

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Delicious
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Tumblr
  • FriendFeed
  • Add to favorites
  • Email
  • RSS
  • PDF
Comments { 1 }

In The Beginning There was This Redhead Mom, A Boy And Vodka

What is it about an average day in the life of single motherhood that can test us to the brink of a triple martini? Friday began like every day. There was the usual “Get up Brian, get up Brian, get up Brian” monologue montage which flows naturally from my lips, sounding oddly of my own mother.

(Hear me scream no).

My son went through the typical “I can’t find my shoes” and “I’m tired” responses that I have come to so lovingly to ignore.

Yes – today was a typical day.  A day in the life of this redhead mom Catherine Hughes and her son Brian.  This will be the first of many stories about what life is like raising a boy when you are a pre-menopausal redhead mom.  So sit back and relax and enjoy as my day continues with –

The cat deciding to upchuck on Brian’s backpack. Now why, with all the possible choices did she decide his backpack needed a fur ball design? This made us slightly late for school.  OK, very.

Once at school on my way to get his late excuse note I drop my brand new cell phone square in a puddle. As I am picking the wet metal thing up, my ex husband calls with a request for help, which usually leads to more work for me.

Next while wiping dirt from my phone I get a call from my mother who informs me that she would like me and my son to travel IN A CAR WITH HER to Washington State for my 45th birthday. You should know that his is about a 16 hour road trip spread over two days.  And, she likes to drive most of the time.  I’ll be 90 and shell be 120 and she will still want to be my designated driver.

This call is proof I have no life.

Because I said, “OK.”

All my client calls that follow have a series of loan problems that I do not have the answer for. Doesn’t anyone take Good Friday off anymore? Without having lunch, I race to pick up my son at school promptly at 2:30. He jumps in the car –

“I’m hungry!”

Like this announcement could make me produce a hamburger right there on the spot.

“How was your day?”

“OK. I’m hungry!”

“I heard you the first time Brian, but I have to go to the store before we go home.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“But I’ve had a really long day!”

It’s about to get longer.

We go to the store.  He is no help.  Choruses of  Can we go now – Are we done yet – Mom – Mom – Are you done yetCan I have this – Will you buy me that follow me around the store like a dark shadow befalling a haunted house. I try those deep breathing exercises they tell you on Oprah that are suppose to work like Prozac so you won’t kill your kids in the middle of the sugar cereal isle. We finally get through the checkout.

I cannot find my wallet.

Yep. No wallet.

My son gives me the You’ve GOT to be kidding me look that only a 10 year old can give. The store informs me that they will put everything in the back, but when I return, it will all have to be re-rung up again. I was proud I didn’t let out one of those blood curdling primeval screams and pull out my hair spray like some pepper spray shooter and spray everyone in the face within 5 feet of me.

We calmly left.  I didn’t cry.

We had soup for dinner as I eyed that bottle of vodka in the freezer.

I did not go back to the store.

Brian lives.

Post number 1 is complete.  Welcome to my blog.

Until next time –

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Share and Enjoy

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Delicious
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Tumblr
  • FriendFeed
  • Add to favorites
  • Email
  • RSS
  • PDF
Comments { 1 }
Facebook Like Button for Dummies