It’s Hard Raising Boys in a Feminist World

With all the women that protested around the world, I had to sit back — as the mother of two boys — and wonder what I’m supposed to tell my kids about the world we live in today.

It’s such an odd time when you become alienated by your own sex.

Though, the division seems clear enough.

Equal rights — and freedom of speech — for those who deserve it. (This excludes Republican women, those who choose to support pro-life, and of course, men.)

I hope and pray (yes, pray) that my children never fall into this mentality.

It all starts will labels.

Women don’t want to be objectified, harassed, or overlooked, just as much as people don’t want to be labeled by their sexuality, religion, gender or even political persuasions. Because this is prejudice.

When you teach your children that one group of people is a certain way, you become the problem; you’re reinforcing the cycle of discrimination.

Many of the political signs being held up in peaceful protest were offensive to me, as the mother of boys.

Women are now stereotyping; women are being sexist. We have become the pot calling the kettle black.

I ask myself:

How can we promote equality with division of the sexes?

How can we promote love with hate?

How can we promote peace with alienation?

Why do we focus on women’s rights instead of human rights?

How can we promote anti-bullying with bullying?

How can we promote freedom of speech by silencing some?

There is no supremacy in equality, and there is no room for hate in acceptance.

Susan B. Anthony was arrested for voting in the presidential election of 1872.

Women didn’t take this stand in history so that we would abuse our power. Women took a stand, so that we would all have a voice.

I want my voice to be heard, just like I want my sons’ voices to be heard.

I don’t want my boys to grow up in a world that wants to silence them.

I want them to not live in fear to have their own opinions.

I have this distinct desire to get out the bubble-wrap, and draw it around my children.

Our freedoms in this country are being minimalized all under the presumption that we’re making things better.

“There is a moment you have to choose whether to be silent, or stand up,” as one protest sign said.

I’m standing up, and saying that I have two sons that I love more than anything, and I’m afraid for them.

I respect people for being different than I am. I respect people who stand up and fight for what they believe in. But, I don’t respect people who want to silence others.

If your goal is to truly Make America Kind Again, which will ultimately Make America Great Again, I’m with you. 

The “Other” Spelling Bee

My seven-year-old son came home and told me that one of his little friends — another boy mind you — in his first grade class said a bad word at school the other day.

I asked, “Oh, did he get in trouble?”

“No; nobody heard him except me.”

I looked at him, trying to decide if that was worry or excitement I detected in his voice.

Then he continued, “It was a really bad word.”

“OK. Well don’t repeat it.”

“But it was a really bad word,” he said. “Really bad. The h word. You know the one that starts with h – e …” Well, you know the rest.

I sighed — great — now he’s spelled it.

So, the next day he comes home and again tells me his friend said a bad word. “It’s a really bad word. You know the one that starts with s.”

He proceeded to spell it out for me. But I told him that really wasn’t necessary, I was more than familiar with the word.

By the next time he’s telling me about this friend — who I’m beginning to think my son has put on a pedestal for his ingenuity in language — I’ve realized for sure that this is a co-op mission. In fact, his friend may be the one to say the word, but then I’m pretty sure it’s my son who spends his recess period trying to sound out and then spell these words that they ought not be saying, or spelling, in the first place.

The take home message is that my son can spell; and, I’m so proud. If only he would use his powers for good instead of evil.

Or, perhaps if we lived in an alternate universe — that showcased the dark side of spelling bees — I’m quite sure my son would be the national champion.

This draws to my attention the fact that boys and girls are so vastly different. I remember the first time I said a bad word, (and it wasn’t anything like my son can spell); I cried for days.

But, I guess I should have had my first clue when my boys were drawn to the Stormtroopers instead of the Jedi. Boys idolize bad guys.

My son thinks he’s truly brilliant because spelling isn’t technically saying. It’s like he gets to deal the cards, but not gamble. No crime, no punishment.

I don’t know if I should applaud him, or be deeply afraid of this young mastermind. The other bad thing is that even I can’t even spell things out in my own house anymore. You know, I used to get by with spelling things out to my husband that I didn’t want the boys to know about or hear. Those days are long gone. Like I said, my boy can spell and sound things out quite well.

A blessing, and yet, a curse.

And, as much as I love the fact that he has an inquisitive mind and a love for learning, I told him for now, we need to take a break from spelling bad words. I don’t want him to showcase his talents at school or, heaven forbid, Sunday school.

Last year, I thought it was great as I stacked up his full semester of perfect spelling tests. Yes, he got all his words correct for his entire Kindergarten year. Now, I’m beginning to wonder if this was such a good thing? And no, I’m not quite sure where he gets his talents from.

Dog Toys Are Not for Boys

I went to Tractor Supply the other day in search of dog food with no added coloring — as advised by my vet — for my dog, Mr. Sensitivity. After I waited in line and got up to the checkout counter, I noticed my two boys were hiding items from me.

“What do you have?”

They laughed as they produced dog toys from behind their backs.

“Are those for Rex?”

“No. They’re for us!” they exclaimed.

“Put them back.” I’m not buying those.

They, then, proceeded to scream, cry and throw tantrums (gaining everyone’s attention in the store) because I am quite possibly the meanest mom in the world. What kind of mother won’t buy her children dog toys after all?

Perhaps if they would’ve promised to chew on them quietly in the corner, I would’ve been more tempted to give in. But, instead, I could see the situation play out in my head of the boys fighting with the dog over the toys, or squeaking them until I pulled out my hair and threw the toys (or the boys) out the door.

But — at least now — I know what I need to get them for Christmas.

Dog trainers encourage you to make a clear distinction to your dog between yourself — the master — and him, the dog.

But, no matter how hard I try, my dog hasn’t seemed to grasp the fact that my children aren’t dogs themselves. And, considering their behavior, it’s no wonder why.

Just the other day, I ordered my oldest son to clean up the orange JELL-O he dropped and left on the kitchen floor.

Then I turned around just in time to see him lapping it up off the floor with his tongue.

A Trip Through the Cabela’s Woods

You would think from the line of cars backed up at the exit off the Interstate, the parade of taillights, the overflowing parking lot, outdoor tents, and the NASCAR car parked out front, we were going to DisneyWorld.

Unfortunately, for us … we were in a land far, far away. While I was looking at the long, meandering line, I was sad to remember there was no Space Mountain, Pleasure Island or even Butterbeer at the other end to comfort me.

Instead, we were waiting in line at the opening weekend of Cabela’s in Lexington. Which — apparently — is quite an event in and of itself.

Of course, we’ve been to Cabela’s — every store we ever pass in fact — but, my husband said we just had to get out and see the latest and the greatest. And he assured me he would find some great deals, as he lured me with thoughts of those cinnamon and sugar almonds I like so much. The kids cheered wildly when we told them where we were going.

Boys. Need I say more?

So not only did we have to drive two hours to get there, fight the crowd, and buy toys for both big and little boys alike, I have to admit, the store was very similar to all the other stores … perhaps we could have saved time with some online shopping?

But my oldest son was quick to point out to me that at this location we got to see a lion about to eat a gazelle, (something we hadn’t seen before). His fascination with animals eating other animals is slightly disturbing, but I’m glad he takes such an interest in nature.

Now, you would think between the children gawking, and onlookers snapping pictures on their phones, we were actually at a zoo — yes, there were even people petting some of the animals.

Far be it from me to tell anyone these animals are actually not alive anymore (because, nobody else seemed to know).

Training the Family

I bought my boys a puppy.

Yes, I can’t deny it; I’m crazy, a sucker, and a glutton for punishment.

But, apparently the boys asked Santa for a puppy, which of course Santa didn’t bring (because they neglected to tell anyone else). But, after the holidays, they made sure to tell everyone in the family, they didn’t get what they asked for.

So, I gave in, and we have an Australian Shepherd puppy of our very own. Darling, sweet and definitely naughty … all rolled up into one big fuzz-ball. That’s our boy. So far he’s added quite a bit of excitement and work to my daily routine. But I tell myself that his cuteness makes up for all of the things he gets into.

The boys named him Rex, after the sheepdog on Babe, and of course, short for T-Rex, the tyrant lizard king.

The other day my son asked me what Rex’s last name is. I said, “Well I guess he has our last name, so Turner.”

“So his name is Rex Delicious Turner?” he asked.

What? He’s a dog. He doesn’t have a middle name.

“But you call him Rex Delicious.”

I was wondering what he was talking about, when I realized he was quite right. I had started calling him (on occasion, mind you) Rexaliscious, because, he is in fact so cute.

Rex Delicious doesn’t roll of the tongue too well, so my husband shortened it to Rex D.

Now our dog has a first, middle, and last name. So I guess he’s officially part of the family now.

You’ve Just Scratched the Surface

I was sitting in the living room when I heard my boys enter the area whispering and giggling in the background.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I was just telling Garrett to look at those hot babes,” Wyatt said pointing to the TV. I had been looking at my phone, and wasn’t even paying attention to the television. I looked up to see the Victoria Secret models running across the screen … in their underwear (of course) … in the snow.

How practical.

More giggles.

I take a deep breath. Boys.

My husband and I are definitely noticing the boys are becoming much more aware of their environment lately.

One day while shopping in JC Penney’s, we made our way through the middle of the store (in route to the home section), but my oldest son made a detour in the journey when we passed by the lingerie.

Yes, I turned around just in time to see him cupping the manikin’s lovely bra in his hands while my youngest son cheered him on. Luckily, I was able to grab him away before too many people noticed, and, fortunately, the headless victim didn’t press any charges.

The Winter Rebellion

Winter isn’t coming this year … at least at my house. In fact, my children seem to believe they can ward it off altogether by starting an all-out rebellion against it.

The boys say they just won’t have it. And to demonstrate their dedication to the cause, they refuse to wear coats, shoes remain optional (let’s not start with the socks), and they burst into tears when I force them to put on pants.

And as all good rebels do, they’ve fought the system, and made way to bend — perhaps stretch — the rules as much as they can.

And by doing so, they’ve invented a brand new look.

My youngest actually coined the fashion statement, but my older son quickly followed suit. The sleeveless sweater vest — as a stand-alone clothing item — pants remain optional. They say it is all too practical, because they don’t have the bulk of long sleeves, but yet they’re kept quite warm by the weight of the sweater. In fact, they tell me, there’s really no need even for a jacket, because the vest is self-sufficient.

Brothers Gotta Hug

I’ve always found there are advantages and disadvantages to every situation; you must make what you will of them.

I was an only child — and trust me — it definitely had its advantages.

Only children get to spend all their time in the limelight and don’t really have to share much; there is nobody to fight with, nobody to pull your hair; you become quite independent and creative; and of course, all the Christmas presents under the tree are for you.

But then again, being an only child has its drawbacks, too. Such as when you do something wrong (a true rarity), there is nobody else to point the finger at, and also no one to rally with you to sway authority (numbers always increase your odds). As an expert, I have seen the long-term side effects of being an only child include not knowing how to ask for help, being bossy and talking to yourself (when your parents ignore you, which they inevitably will do).

While growing up as an only child worked for me (for the most part — yes, I still talk to myself), when thinking about my own family, I knew I wanted to have more than one. Handling two (or more) is a whole other subject, but having a sibling always ensures you have someone to play with, and a person in your corner. My boys are close in age, and have grown up spending all their time together.

Hardheaded, Headstrong Boys

“Is this Rachael Turner, Wyatt’s Mom?”

I hesitate, afraid to hear the news. “Yes.” What has he done now?

This is my second official visit to the school’s nurse’s office, my fourth injury report, and the second time I’ve signed a “know the signs of concussion” form.

Is it really only October? How am I going to make it through the school year at the rate we are going right now? What’s even worse is I have another boy starting school next year.

Look out for those Turner boys.

My six-year-old son explains simply that he must run or he will be caught. Apparently, the girls love to chase the boys, and if they catch them, hug them as much as possible.

Oh no — problems with girls and boys — yes, it’s already begun. And I thought I had a few more years to prepare.

Taking Turns

In life, we tend to take a lot of things for granted. We often breeze through our days thinking about the things we don’t have, instead of the things we do.

This came to my full attention on vacation when I had to share one restroom with my boys and husband. While this may not sound like a big deal, it became quite the ordeal as the week progressed. Let’s just say we had our own “bleachable” moments.

Not only did the boys make big messes with toothpaste and toilet paper, and the inability to hit the target, they also apparently have synchronized bathroom habits. It never failed when one boy (big or small) would go, the others would have to suddenly go as well. So everyone (not occupying the restroom) would jump around in the hallway waiting their turn … some did this better than others. Patience is a hard thing to learn.

It’s All About the Journey

There are four words every parent dreads hearing: “Are we there yet?”

Yes, those little words hold enough power to bring despair to your heart … especially when you are five minutes in to a 9-hour drive.

“No, not yet.”

“When will we be there?”

“Not soon enough,” you say again through gritted teeth under your breath.

Yes, nothing quite says summer like a good family road trip — setting out on the open highway for a change of scenery and new experiences.

But taking car trips across the country with your kids can be an adventure in and of itself. The screaming, the crying, the multiple rest area stops, dropped toys, and food fights … yes, it’s a time that brings everyone together … perhaps a little too together.

Hear Us Roar

Life at my house ­— post Jurassic World, that is ­— will never be the same.

The big screen has once again captured the hearts of my children as it brought dinosaurs back to life, and spun them into a modern-day-world. Just as Jurassic Park thrilled me back in my elementary days, the new movie has gone above and beyond to incorporate what we love most about dinosaurs with our world, as we know it.

Yes, we’ve already been to see the new movie in the theatres … twice.

Now I get to listen to the sound of roaring all day and night. I just hope everyone else in our general vicinity (wherever we happen to be) appreciates my little dinosaurs as much as I do. All I can say is, yes, they have been practicing their dinosaur sounds. They are quite good, and quite loud. I apologize in advance.

When we are not pretending to be dinosaurs, we’ve been spending most of our spare time learning more about dinosaurs.

All of this reading has made me think a lot about time, and even more about family.

Locker Room Etiquette

We all want our families to be great teams – ones that can both work hard and play hard together to achieve common goals.

At my house, we’re in everything together, and we give it our best to collectively handle whatever is thrown our way.

But, sometimes my kids take this thinking a bit too literally. Whatever I do, wherever I go, I have two little shadows behind me. Yes, I enjoy their company, but there are a few things I would prefer to do on my own. While I have explained the concept of privacy to my children, they certainly don’t see it as a priority or a necessity. To them, it’s quite straightforward; even mundane tasks prove to be more fun and entertaining when we are all together.

And, it just so happens, my boys enjoy being in the bathroom more than anywhere else in the house. I think it’s the indoor water park that attracts them. They love to take baths, wash their hands a million times, and flush the toilet over and over. They like showing off in the water so much, it’s kind of like having a front row seat in the splash zone at SeaWorld.

Into the Wild

Snow days bring such lovely thoughts to mind ­— staying home wrapped in a blanket, taking in a good book and drinking hot chocolate.

But, as a stay-at-home mom with two little boys (ages five and three), it’s more like being trapped in a box with wild animals desperately trying to get out of their cage. With no good release for their excess energy, watch out … on edge, wild animals will rely on their instincts as opposed to their learned (better) behavior.

Essentially your house becomes the hunting grounds. The predators’ plans are simple: attack, destroy and eat everything in sight. And believe me, they take no prisoners.

I Wanna Be Like You

My youngest boy currently thinks I hung the moon in the sky - not a bad place for a mom to be.

Whatever mama does, he does too.

He is home with me all day and wants to mimic my every action. Even if this includes scrubbing the bath tub, jumping rope in place, eating Brussels sprouts, or putting on eyeliner … yes, I have to say, he’s not so good at that.

It’s amazing to see your kids absorb life like a sponge … even when the sponge is named SpongeBob Squarepants.