ITLR: Raising a SonPosted: October 21, 2013 | |
i’m not a parent. i don’t have any plans on being a parent. but i have nieces and nephews. my nephews are a LOT more fun. my nieces are cool, don’t get me wrong; but it’s all mind games with them. it’s all negging and even at such a young age you can see the budding solipsism. at the Lablanc family reunion i met one of my young cousins: 8 years old, really sweet girl; but just like with chatting up a woman all i did was keep her talking about herself. after 15-20 minutes of her telling me how she wants to be a writer, she was following me around. apparetnly, my aunt told her i was a (chuckle) “writer”.
my nephew and male cousins are mostly a bunch of bruisers. football, wrestling, rough housing, typical boys. a few are more cerebral and fortunately i have my nerd side as well and can relate to them. hell, one of my cousins saw my bow and made a face like he was on heroin. needless to say uncle Danny will be getting him a junior compound bow.
my mom has me and the 2 sisters. my mom’s stories about me are a FAR cry from my sisters. a few gems from my childhood.
apparently my mom changed my diaper and threw it away. i decided to take the poo out of the diaper and make marbles. my mom (a brand spanking new mommy) saw me and in disgust told me to get rid of the offensive diaper filling.
i’m recalling this from what my mom told me because i was about 2 years; but later on we were at the store, she reached into to her purse to get her pocketbook and came up with a hand full of poo. i don’t see the problem here, she told me to get rid of it, i did.
my earliest memories where when we lived on ole miss ave. back in kenner. i don’t remmeber this per se, but i recall my mom telling people these little yarns from my days of yore. she was taking a bath and apparently i walked in and threw a dead roach in the tub and walked out. i DO know my mom is/was deathly afraid of bugs and i can only assume i was proving her that i killed a roach for her. from what i recall she stood up on the corner of the tub screaming her head off for my dad to come get the roach out of the water.
and it didn’t get better as i got older. i was ALWAYS an outside kid.
i was always a very small kid. ask anyone at the meet up, and they’ll tell you: i’m fucking tiny. i must have been about 7-8 years old and i was at the gutierrez family reunion and i’ve mentioned before, they’re VERY cajun. i was VERY non-confrontational and didn’t really rough house. well, my uncles noticed this and made damn sure that my older cousins push me around and they taught me about fighting.
interestingly enough, my mother NEVER objected. i guess she just understood that’s a masculine thing. and these guys are/were fucking brutal. my uncle pat is an old-school cajun that makes troy landry look like mr. rogers. at the recent reunion he was explaining how to pull a 10 foot gator out it’s hole BARE-HANDED.
the best advice i ever recieved about fighting, didn’t really sink in unitl about 10 years ago. uncle pat told me, “boy, the key to fighting is to realize you’re going to lose.” it finally clicked that going into a fight with the “i’m going to lose mentality” means you’ll throw caution out the window and just let go. there’s no pride, there’s nothing but you and an opponent. back in southern la. after the fight (especially if it’s a family member/good friend) that’s it, the issue is now dead.
hell, i’ve had women in the family see the boys arguing and they MADE us go outside and settle it. then we go back to climbing trees and throwing rocks.
boys fall down, get hurt, blow shit up, commit crimes against nature, and cause general mass destruction. a waitress at my local had her sister and mom bring her son to work. kid ran to video game, tripped and fell. mom and sister ran over picking him up and acting like the kid lost an arm. me and my bartender winced. we called the kids mom over and told her she needed to stop them from doing that shit.
i was out riding my bike on a trail with friends. i jumped something, fell and sliced my knee open. i walked back home and screamed for my mom. she came to the door, looked me over, crossed her arms and gave me the mom “what the fuck did you get into” look. i told her what happened she ordered me into the house and slapped me across the head as i walked past her. then she cleaned my knee and told me to go back outside and play.
but i think this best summizes the joy of raising a boy. a friend of mine sent me a pic she posted on her FB. it’s captioned, “FUUUUUUUUUCK”. it’s her first child, a boy.
notice the double clutch. you gotta respect double fisting you hog after obliterating a room. if i ever end up with a son, he’ll be this little hellion. lol