How To Tell Your Son 'I Love You'

It's been one of those days around here. It's almost 7 pm, we still haven't eaten and, as Robert Frost would say, I have miles to go before I sleep. So today, I offer you one of my all-time most popular posts,

14 Ways to Tell Your Son "I Love You"

 

1. Take him to your favorite restaurant

Not McDonald’s. Not Burger King. Take him to a real, grown-up sit-down place and share a meal. Trust me: he already knows that this is where you take important people.

2. Let him stay up past his bedtime

And do something together. Stare at the stars. Make fudge. Build a model. Being up with Mom or Dad alone in the dark is a powerful memory.

3. Play Risk with him

Or Monopoly. You know – the kind of game you never have time to play. Just get out the dice and roll.

4. Hug & kiss him
 All boys need to be hugged and kissed. Even (or maybe especially) the ones who tell you they don’t.

5. Make his favorite meal

For no apparent reason. He’ll know and appreciate it.

6. Play cars – or dinos or whatever – with him

It’s so hard to find the time to get down on the floor, and so hard to put away your grown-up-sized worries and concerns, but nothing means as much to a boy as playing with him.

7. Don’t complain the next time he comes home muddy

This comes straight from the mouth of my eight-year-old. What more can I say?

8. Watch his favorite movie with him

Pop some popcorn and settle in. His taste in movies probably isn’t exactly the same as yours, but who knows? You might realize you like foreign films.

9. Introduce him to your hobby

Golf, knitting, rock climbing – whatever you do, he knows it’s important to you. Show him the ropes and invite him into your world.

10. Ask him where he’d like to go. Take him.
 But feel free to set boundaries. You might be surprised at where he wants to go.

11. Listen to him

Really listen to him the next time he starts talking about his passion. Ask questions. Challenge him. Show genuine interest.

12. Read him your favorite book.

You know, the one you loved when you were a kid. Tell him why you loved it and read out loud, with enthusiasm. He just may see you in a whole new light.

13. Let him help you

Do laundry. Fix the car. You’ll get to spend time together and he’ll learn new skills.

14. Talk calmly, even when he frustrates you
 Again -- straight from the mouth of my eight-year-old. Keeping a level head shows your son that you respect and value him as a person.

Being a Parent

I was playing in the sandbox with Boy #4 today when Boy #3 looked at me and asked, "What would you be doing right now if you didn't have kids?"

I shrugged. "Probably have lunch or working at my computer."

He nodded. "So your life would be more boring?"

"Exactly," I said. "Exactly."

There's been much talk on the Internet lately about parenting and happiness, much of it triggered by a New York article titled, "All Joy and No Fun." As the article states -- and as every single honest parent will tell you -- parenting is frequently messy and not much fun. I love my children to death, as they say, but they drive me crazy every single day. You think I like trying to teach four young boys how to sit at a table?

And yet...

As frustrating and exhausting as parenting can be -- and as good as a quiet lunch and time to work sounds, especially in the middle of a hectic day -- I wouldn't change my life, because my kids have changed me.

Let that sink in for awhile. Then click over and read author Jennifer Lawler's extremely moving blog post, For Jessica. If you can, come back here and tell me what you think.

Happy Father's Day

For the longest time I guess I thought he didn't give a damn
Hard to read, hard to please, that was my old man
On the day I left for college, it was nothing new
We never had that heart to heart - he had too much to do

He checked the air in my tires
The belts and all the spark plug wires
Said when the hell's the last time you had this oil changed
And as I pulled out the drive he said be sure and call your mom sometime
And I didn't hear it then but I hear it now
He was saying I love you the only way he knew how

A hundred twenty-thousand miles and six years down the road
A brand new life and a brand new wife and we had just bought out first home
When he finally came to visit I thought he'd be so proud
He never said he liked the place he just got his tool belt out

And put new locks on the door
Went back and forth to the hardware store
Said come and hold this flashlight
As he crawled beneath the sink
These old wires aren't up to code
And that circuit box is gonna overload
And I didn't hear it then but I hear it now
He was saying I love you the only way he knew how

Last Sunday we all gathered for his 65th birthday
I knew he'd stiffen up but I hugged him anyway
When it was finally time to say goodbye I knew what was next
Just like he always does, right before we left

He checked the air in my tires
The belts and all the spark plug wires
Said when the hell's the last time you had this oil changed
And as I pulled out the drive he said be sure and call your mom sometime
And I didn't hear it then but I hear it now
He was saying I love you the only way he knew how

Best of Blogging 'Bout Boys

In the last year and a half, I've written about everything from light sabers to sex. Here's a look back at 5 of my most popular posts:

1. Q & A With a Video Game Designer
2. 14 Ways to Tell Your Son "I Love You"
3. Birth & Babies
4. The Boy Code
5. Potty Training Trials

Got a favoriate that's not on the list? Tell us about it!

He Showed Us Love

R.I.P Dusty.

Positive Parenting

I'd had it with my boys' bickering.

At lunch, after we lit the Advent candles, I read a passage from Matthew 5:
"You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgement.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother is subject to judgement...Anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fires of hell."

I was hoping the passage would spark a conversation. I was hoping it would spark some inner reflection and repentance. Instead, it sparked anger. Boys #1 and 2 immediately clammed up and refused to answer any questions. They wouldn't even tell me why they were mad.

An hour or so later, with the help of Boy#1, I figured it out. Yes, they fight, but overall, they think they're doing pretty good. And my constant harping about what they're doing wrong is making them feel pretty darn bad.

Talk about a moment of inner reflection and repentance.

The message was brought home tonight, as we read a chapter of Farmer Boy. Almanzo's little oxen did not want to work after a summer of rest, but "Almanzo had to be patient and gentle. He petted the yearlings (when he sometimes wanted to hit them) and he fed them carrots and talked to them soothingly."

Boy #1 interrupted. "See?"

I saw the comparison immediately, but asked him to explain. He continued, "In a lot of ways, animals and kids are the same. They don't know very much and they're high energy. But do they get it from from hitting and yelling? No, they get it from patience and gentleness and that kind of stuff."

Starting now, I resolve to concentrate on patience and gentleness. Instead of focusing on the bad, I will focus on the good. I will catch my boys doing good and tell them how much I love them. Most of all, I will live each day in such a way that they can SEE the happiness they bring into my life. They have enhanced my life in immeasurable ways, and yet all too often, I fear, they only hear about the mess, the inconvenience and my long list of to-dos.

Thank you, boys, for once again showing me the way.

Compassion

Our oldest cat, Dusty, is dying.

Not in some theoretical, we're-all-going-to-die-someday kind of way, but actively dying. Dusty is currently laying on his side on the bathroom rug, laboring to breathe. Beside him is a nine-year-old boy who brought his pillow and blanket into the bathroom to keep Dusty company, a nine-year-old boy who is stroking Dusty's fur and crooning, "Silent Night."

Dusty was diagnosed with feline leukemia, the cat version of AIDS, a few months ago. At that time, an XRay also revealed what is likely a cancerous tumor in Dusty's chest.

Faced with the reality of limited healthcare dollars and an incurable disease, we decided against aggressive treatment. We brought Dusty home with a prescription for prednisone, which the vet said would ease his symptoms for awhile, and told the kids the uncomfortable truth: that their favorite cat was dying.

At first, Dusty seemed fine. Then, about a month ago, his breathing became labored to the point that I called the kids to say, "I think this is it." The kids came home, cuddled with Dusty -- and the cat lived another few weeks. He survived 'til Thanksgiving. He survived 'til his birthday (the day after Thanksgiving, aka the day we found him in our garage attic). He survived til the birthday of Boy #1. He even made it to St. Nick's. But despite the frequent prayers of Boy #3, I don't think Dusty's going to make it til Christmas.

I realize our choice -- to bring Dusty home, rather than to put him to sleep -- is a controversial one. The boys, though, were dead set against the idea of taking their cat in to be euthanized. And, to be honest, Dusty showed moments of startling improvement. After that phone call a month ago, Dusty revived enough to eat, drink and, slowly, wander the house. So we spent our time catering to the cat. We petted him. We fed him tuna. Boy #1 even took him outside; Dusty never did shed his love of the outside after all the years he spent on his own.

And secretly, I am glad, because I know that someday I will die. Like it or not, death will be part of my boys' life, and like it or not, death, more often than not, is a process. Very few people just keel over. Many more linger for weeks or months or years. My boys are learning, now, how to be there. My boys are learning that love lasts til the end. They're learning the physical process of death too, but most importantly, they're learning how to care.

Watching my nine-year-old sing to the cat, I know it's a lesson they've learned well.

Time for a Hug

I'm not from a particularly huggy family. We don't hug every time we say hi and we rarely hug when we say good-bye. It's more like a, "Hey, good to see ya." The affection is there, but understated, understood.

And yet hugs have a way of making things better when nothing else can.

This morning, when I was feeling overwhelmed by all I had to do, Boy #1 came up and gave me a hug -- wordlessly, silently -- and my day was better.

Tonight, after a bedtime battle that lasted over an hour-and-a-half, Boy #4 sat sobbing in his bed as I lay on the floor beside him. Something in my Mommy-heart spoke to me, and I sat up and wrapped him in my arms. He cried into my shoulders (both of them; he's very European that way) and whispered, "I'm sorry" before settling quietly into sleep. I'm convinced he'd still be crying if I hadn't taken a moment to hug my son.

This Thanksgiving, hug the boys in your life. Yes, they drive you crazy sometimes, and yes, they may try to shrug away when you approach with open arms. But your boys love you too, and a hug says more than words ever will.

Family Hate

My boys can bicker. A lot. In fact, they frequently spend entire days telling each other how much better their lives would be if only their brothers didn't exist.

And yet, they care about each other. A lot.

Case in point: The other day, Boy #2 and Boy #3 spent the bulk of their day arguing and fighting. Boy #2 let Boy #3 know, in no uncertain terms, that Boy #3 is not his favorite person in the world.

But that night, when Boy #3 was tired beyond belief and not feeling well, who was at his bedside? Boy #2. Who came to get me when Boy #3 said he thought he had a fever? Boy #2. And who checked in and said a sweet good night, even after I was laying with Boy #3? Boy #2.

"See," I told Boy #3. "He doesn't hate you. He really does love you."

"Oh, Mom," Boy #3 said, with a note of exasperation in his voice. "That's just family hate."

On some level, my boys get it. On some level, they love their brothers fiercely, even though they drive each other crazy. On some level, they know that all the hateful words are really just expressions of frustration and irritation.

Yes, we need to work on that; my boys need to learn better way to express frustration and irritation. But for now, I will revel in the memory of a sweet Boy #2, anxiously checking on his sick brother.

Have you entered my giveaway yet? You could win a Tag Jr. reading bundle!

Snapshot Sunday: My Fish!

I am not much of an angler. Boy #1, however, is a fishing fanactic -- and a pretty talented one at that. This summer he guided me to my very first Northern pike.

Snapshot Sunday: A Boy and His Dino

A long, long time ago, before Boy #2 became a nine-year-old boy obsessed with video games and destruction, he was a boy who loved dinosaurs. In recognition of that love, one of his amazingly fabulous uncles (who also happens to be his godfather) gave Boy #2 a six-foot-inflatable dinosaur for his birthday. To date, he has yet to receive a present he's loved as much as that dino.

Mars and Venus

Remember the book by Dr. John Gray, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus? The idea was that men and women have different emotional needs and different ways of communicating (and expressing) those needs -- and that by learning to communicate with our partners in ways they can understand, we can improve our relationships.

As a mom of four boys, I've thought about that book a lot. There are some things I just don't get about boys, like their constant need to fight or their biologically-based inability to hold a stick without swinging it. I understand some of those things now, thanks to to experience, reflection and a slew of books about boys, but I don't get it. I will never intuitively think like a boy and I've wondered at time whether or not my inability to see the world through male eyes might inhibit my relationship with my sons.

I've often thought there should be a Mars/Venus book aimed at parents of opposite sex children.

Dr. Robyn Silverman, a child and adolescent development specialist I've had the pleasure of interviewing in the past, recently penned a wonderful article on just that topic, Daddy's Little Girl and Mommy's Little Boy: Bonding with your Opposite Gendered Child. Among her suggestions:

• Take the cultural labels with a grain of salt. Best line: "Don't let anyone taint your relationship with your opposite gendered child."
• Open up communication. Best line: "Just because you might not understand some of the things your opposite-sex child is interested in doesn’t mean you can’t. "
• Treat your child with kindness and expect the same back. Best line: "Character does not need to be sacrificed in lieu of self expression."

For more tips, check out her full article. Then drop me a line and let me know how you bond with your son.

Now THIS Is Love

A couple months ago, I blogged about showing love. I'd asked Boy #1 how he knows his Mom loves him and his answer was, "Because she takes me fishing."

I thought of that at 6:15 this morning as I sped across a lake, cool -- no, make that cold -- mist spraying in my face. It was the last morning of our Up North vacation and I was huddled inside two sweatshirts and a jacket, sitting on a not-quite-wet-yet-towel in a motorboat piloted by my 11-year-old son. Trust me when I say this is not how I would normally choose to spend a morning.

By nature, I am more of a night person. By nature, I am more of an indoors kind of girl. By nature, I will choose my warm bed and a book over almost anything.

But there I was, out on the lake, wind whipping at my back, prepared to spend one-and-a-half hours casting lures into a lake that hadn't yielded anything to me but weeds (and an excellent encounter with a loon.) Why? Because I love my son and my son loves fishing.

It was not the morning he wanted it to be. He was dying to catch a musky, the elusive fish of 10,000 casts that had eluded him all week. He never did catch a musky -- but I caught my very first Northern, an 18 1/2 inch fish that was the biggest fish I'd ever caught. (It was also the first fish I've ever held. Boy, are those things slippery!)

I never would have caught that fish without my son. He guided me to the site, put on the bait and showed me how to cast and retrieve my lure. He also netted the fish, removed the hook and helped me release it safely into the water.

Most importantly, though, he got me out on the water. Never in a thousand years would I have seen the mist over the lake at sunrise, or felt the strength of a fish at the end of my line, if not for my son. If not for my son -- my sons -- my world would be a much poorer place, in so many ways.

Boy #1, I love you. Thanks for showing me the world.

How have your sons expanded your world?

Snapshot Sunday: Grandfatherly Love

Snapshot Sunday: In Honor of all the Dads

This pic, to me, is what Dads are all about. You can't really see my husband -- he's more of a background-guy here than anything else -- but that smile and that fish? All because of him.

Dads often toil in the background, doing the life equivalent of setting up the line, finding the perfect fishing spot and waiting (before helping to set the hook), but without them, our sons wouldn't catch nearly as many fish.

Hats off to the Dads. Thanks for all you do.

Three Things I've Learned in Two Days

1. Sunscreen really does need to be applied often. The older three boys and I spent yesterday at America's largest waterpark. Having suffered many sunburns as a child and fully aware of the risks of the sun, I'm usually pretty good about protecting the boys' skin. After all, they're light-skinned, light-haired, blue-eyed cuties; if ever there was a likely-to-burn model, it's my boys. So even though it was cloudy when we arrived, we slathered on waterproof SPF 50.

We did not, however, pause to reapply. Let me just say this: SPF 50 does not provide all day protection, especially when you're repeatedly immersed in water.

2. Bravery can be learned from six-year-olds. At age 6, Boy #3 is a little young for a number of the rides at Noah's Ark. But as Boy #3, he was determined to hang with his brothers as much as possible. Sting Ray, though, looked a bit intimidating to him; even though he met the height requirement, he decided to pass. Which was OK with me, because Sting Ray features an almost-straight down drop at the start, and I wasn't crazy about the idea either.

But then my little blue-eyed, pink-cheeked cutie looked up at me and said, "I want to conquer my fear. I don't want to let fear rule my life."

Indeed!

So we climbed the stairs (me lugging the heavy, double inflatable tube with specially-designed head-and-neck protection) and Boy #3, upon seeing the almost-sheer drop, almost backed out. Almost. He was scared, but when I asked if he still wanted to go, he nodded his head yes.

The attendant shoved us off -- and the look on my son's face was one of sheer terror. In his own words: "I almost started crying." But then the ride started leveling off, and the fear was replaced with joy. When the ride stopped, my brave little six-year-old said, "You can't let fear rule your life."

Turns out he gathered his wisdom from the Disney channel.

3. Losing someone you care about hurts. This morning, my best friend's mother died. She's had leukemia for awhile and was recently told that a bone marrow transplant was no longer an option. We knew the end was in sight, but still...

This is a woman I've known, literally, since my birth. She sang to me (lullabies when I slept over at their house), celebrated birthdays with me and mentored my oldest son -- you know, my 11-year-old entrepreneur. When, at the age of six, he decided to sell produce at our local Farmer's Market, she took him under her wing. They spent many Wednesday mornings together while she taught him about gardening and life. Most of all, she welcomed and accepted him. Now she's gone, and we both feel a void in our lives.

Guest Post: The Mysteries of Boys

Please welcome another blogathon blogger, Sarah E. Ludwig. Sarah is the mom to four mostly wonderful kids, 11-year-old fraternal twin girls and a nearly-7-year-old and 5-year-old boys. She works from home as a freelance writer and blogs about the necessity of flexibility in raising kids at Parenting by Trial and Error. Sarah is also a contributor on Larger Families.

I have to admit that I’m a bit of a novice when it comes to all things boy-related. Because my experience is so limited, I could be noticing differences between my boys and my girls that are purely personality and not pertaining to gender at all, so please excuse any inaccurate generalizations I may make regarding boys.

I was raised in a family with two sisters, so there are some boy areas that still mystify me, even though my sons are nearly-7 and 5. For instance, why are boys so ridiculously entertained by potty talk? Just mention the word “underwear” or “poop” and it unleashes a series of endless giggles. Bodily functions are also a major source of amusement, often forced and always embellished, sometimes at the dinner table, much to my dismay. My daughters were never prone to behavior like this.

They’re so rough with each other too. I can hardly bear to watch them playing because it involves -- what looks to me like -- painful bodily contact. They wrestle, punch and smack each other, but rarely cry afterwards over what would have had their sisters in tears immediately.

My boys almost always take a bath together and I often listen to them talking and playing. A lot of their conversation has to do with a particular body part, with which the obsession clearly starts early. Discussions about size and shape are punctuated with hysterical laughter. I just shake my head in disbelief.

Perhaps the worst part is the amount of toilet cleaning that comes with having little boys. Unless you want your toilet to look worse than the underside of an outhouse, multiple wipe-downs are necessary on a daily basis.

Another perplexing behavior is the habitual crotch grabbing. Is that just my sons or is this a universal male habit found mainly in young boys?

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I ask multiple times a day.

“No,” the perpetrator always replies.

“Then don’t do that,” I say, pointing at the offending hand, which immediately drops.

As much as some of the boy stuff they do baffles and drives me crazy though, I love having sons. There’s nothing like my little boys’ kisses and cuddles; nothing like having a little guy tell me he wants to marry me and sincerely meaning it; nothing like seeing how much they want to protect me and knowing how that instinct will most likely grow as they get older.

Now if I could just get them to aim more accurately…

Hug Your Boys

Boys need two things that we tend to forget about when we focus only on their physical abilities and their higher activity levels: They need more touch and more conversation.

-- Michael Thompson, PhD, author of Raising Cain

How often do you hug your sons? As often as you hug your daughters?

An interesting study from Northern Ireland found that young children (under three) are hugged more often than older children. Older boys are the least likely to be hugged; 17% of the parents of boys ages 12-15 admitted they never hugged or cuddled those boys. Dads, by a 2 to 1 margin, were far more likely to hug or cuddle their 12-15 year-old daughters than sons.

Which is sad, especially when you consider this: Oxytocin, a hormone that enhances bonding, is released in the first 20 seconds of a hug -- for females. Boys need to be touched two to three times as much as girls to attain the same level of oxytocin.

Young boys, Thompson says, will ask for a hug when they need it. (Which is why I've been getting such wonderful, wonderful hugs from Boy #4 lately.) But older boys look to their parents for cues. If his parents seem at all uncomfortable about hugging and physical closeness, the growing boy soon stops asking and gets his physical contact through aggression instead.

I know I have to remind myself to hug my older boys, much more than with the younger ones, who squeeze love into me every chance they get. But it's so incredbily satisfying. Hugging my 11-year-old these days means feeling a chin on par with my shoulder. Hugging my 8-year-old brings out his dimples; he almost never asks for a hug anymore, but those dimples show me how much he still enjoys my touch. My 6-year-old likes to cuddle with me as he falls asleep, and my three-year-old -- well, his hugs are the light of my day.

So hug your sons, big or small. They may be old enough to wrap you in their arms, but that's OK. They still need your touch.

10 Things I Like

Boys #2 and 3 got into it today. Again.

Boy #2 looked across the lunch table and told #3, "I hate you."

Inside, I was screaming. We've been through this before. They -- all four of them -- know that saying they "hate" someone is completely unacceptable. We've told them, over and over again, that it's OK to be mad, it's Ok to feel angry, and it's even OK to not like someone, but it's not OK to hate someone -- especially when that someone is your brother.

We've talked, over and over, about how it can be hard to get along sometimes, how the ones we live with are often the ones who annoy us the most. We've expressed sympathy. We've laid down the law. We've worked to create connections. And yet -- there was #2, saying he hated #3.

I took a deep breath. "Go get a piece of paper and a pencil and sit down." #2 grumbled, but complied.

I took the pencil from him and wrote "10 Things I Like About 3" on top. (OK, I didn't really write "3." I used his name.) #2 isn't a completely independent reader, but he knew what I wrote.

"Aaaaaaaaaawww, 10? Can't you make it 5?"

Nope. Ten.

So he sat. And he thought. His first "like" -- "I like it when #3 is gone!" -- was not quite what I was looking for. His second try -- "He gives me money" -- was closer. By number 8, he'd gotten around to, "Sometimes he's sort of funny."

The whole exercise made me think. It's easy for me to tell you the things I don't like about my kids. It's easy for me to tell you the myriad ways they're frustrating me. But do I really take time to think about all the things I like about my boys?

So I present 10 Things I Like About My Boys:

1. They challenge my thinking
2. They inspire me to be a better person
3. They teach me things (Thanks to my boys, I now know the difference between a crappie and a bluegill)
4. They give me a great excuse to go to the museum. And the zoo. The park too.
5. They've introduced me to the wonder of bugs. And dinosaurs.
6. They connect me to my Dad in a way nothing else has.
7. They love me -- and tell me so frequently.
8. They're not afraid to try new things
9. They're kind and helpful (for the most part)
10. They're convenient. I never have to comb their hair and they can pee anywhere.

What about you? What do you like about your boys?

14 Ways to Tell Your Son "I Love You"

1. Take him to your favorite restaurant
Not McDonald’s. Not Burger King. Take him to a real, grown-up sit-down place and share a meal. Trust me: he already knows that this is where you take important people.

2. Let him stay up past his bedtime
And do something together. Stare at the stars. Make fudge. Build a model. Being up with Mom or Dad alone in the dark is a powerful memory.

3. Play Risk with him
Or Monopoly. You know – the kind of game you never have time to play. Just get out the dice and roll.

4. Hug & kiss him
All boys need to be hugged and kissed. Even (or maybe especially) the ones who tell you they don’t.

5. Make his favorite meal
For no apparent reason. He’ll know and appreciate it.

6. Play cars – or dinos or whatever – with him
It’s so hard to find the time to get down on the floor, and so hard to put away your grown-up-sized worries and concerns, but nothing means as much to a boy as playing with him.

7. Don’t complain the next time he comes home muddy
This comes straight from the mouth of my eight-year-old. What more can I say?

8. Watch his favorite movie with him
Pop some popcorn and settle in. His taste in movies probably isn’t exactly the same as yours, but who knows? You might realize you like foreign films.

9. Introduce him to your hobby
Golf, knitting, rock climbing – whatever you do, he knows it’s important to you. Show him the ropes and invite him into your world.

10. Ask him where he’d like to go. Take him.
But feel free to set boundaries. You might be surprised at where he wants to go.

11. Listen to him
Really listen to him the next time he starts talking about his passion. Ask questions. Challenge him. Show genuine interest.

12. Read him your favorite book.
You know, the one you loved when you were a kid. Tell him why you loved it and read out loud, with enthusiasm. He just may see you in a whole new light.

13. Let him help you
Do laundry. Fix the car. You’ll get to spend time together and he’ll learn new skills.

14. Talk calmly, even when he frustrates you
Again -- straight from the mouth of my eight-year-old. Keeping a level head shows your son that you respect and value him as a person.

Help me add to my list! There must be at least 25 ways to tell your son “I love you”….