I read somewhere that mothers nurture and raise boys from age 0 to pre-teens. Then from 13 onwards, fathers are supposed to take over. I think it is different with girls. Girls are closer to dad from age 0 to 100. I should know, I was a daddy’s girl, after all.
“Never ever marry a mama’s boy” – my own mother said
As a child, my own mother instilled, nay, pounded in me this mantra. Never ever marry a mama’s boy. According to her, a mama’s boy will always measure you against his own mother, or will always run back to mother when the going gets tough in your relationship. I used to picture a little scared boy hiding under his momma’s skirt. Suffice it to say, when I came of age, I ran a mile away from anyone who is known to be a mama’s boy. I’m proud to say I didn’t marry one. Now, you must understand that I was very young then. Lacking in any wisdom to realise that the mama’s boy tag was a cruel generalization. I later realized that not all mama’s boys are doomed. Likewise, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a daddy’s girl!
Which brings me to my point. I have two sons. As much as I tried not to, my closeness to my sons border on them being mama’s boys. Wait. Who am I kidding? They are mama’s boys. Let’s talk about my regular son, Gab, now aged thirteen. Gab is my friend; we confide in each other; he is my baby. In truth, I am so close to him that there is no room for Dad. The hubby is fine with this. He is after all a very traditional father. The type that fathers from an arm’s length. I nurture; he provides. He also cooks dinner.
In my heart, I wanted the hubby to connect with the boys at the level that I do. I wanted him to take over. I longed to pass the baton. So I waited.
Like clockwork, as Gab turned 13, the hubby finally received the figurative baton from me. Allelujah. For Gab’s 13th birthday, the hubby decided to buy Gab a real mountain bike with gears and a fancy brand. Certainly not K-mart’s Dunlop. The bike was not cheap. But who cares, right?
The hubby regularly rides his bike alone every Sunday morning without fail, barring illness. But nowadays, Gab and his dad ride together on Sunday mornings. It’s their own time. No mum, no kuya. I always believed that you need to do things with your boys to connect with them. I wrote about that here.
Gab will remain my baby. But I am happy to let the hubby take over some aspects of nurturing.