I Let My Boys Raid My Jewellery Box...

And guess what?

They were happy.

End of story.

Jewels are fun.  Mummy's things are interesting - even nicer when Mummy shares and lets them keep some 'treasure' for themselves.

Tom came home today from the school jumble sale wearing two very spangly women's bracelets.

He also happened to bring back a rather cool and gorgeous re patent handbag and a floral purse.

I asked him if they were for me?

No.  They were for him.

What is he going to do with these items?

'Ah, just keep them and use them.  They're really nice to look at.'

I was really proud of my boy.  Very proud that my boy chose things he liked, not based on gender, not based on the fact that they might be 'girl' or 'boy' things, but just that they were things that he happened to like (he has good taste too!)

Ethan was also sporting a rather gorgeous bracelet with a heart on it.

Now, Ethan is a bit more into what other people think of him, so I was surprised when he was also wearing a very shiny and very pretty thing around his wrist.

Hey, Ethan, why did you choose that one?

Oh, he says, he just likes it.  It reminds him of the necklace I wear and he wanted one too.  He doesn't have any jewellery and he would love some more.

I don't even think twice.  Without hesitation I say, hey, I have a ton of crap up there I never wear or even like any more - would you like to have some?

They are both excited, both eager - yes please is the strong reply.

I gather up my jewels, my treasure, and I go through it.  I've been meaning to for ages anyway.  I was going to chuck some stuff away and keep what I loved, after all, it's a waste to have it all just sitting there doing nothing.

I divvied up the spoils.  The boys were chuffed.

Tom was adorned in bracelets, Ethan was wearing five necklaces.

It was really cute.  They were happy, I was happy that they were happy, it was a winning situation all round.

Later on, when we were sitting down to eat, the boys both sitting beside their pile of 'treasure' (read: old junk), Tom sidles up to me.

'People were laughing at me because of the things I bought today.  It made me sad, so I ran inside'

'Do you like the things you bought?'

'Yes, I really do'

'Then that's all that matters. Screw them! As long as you like what you got, what is it to them?'

He smiles and, well, that's kind of the end of it.

He still likes his things. The masses haven't won today.
I guess I'm waiting tentatively for this stuff to matter to him.  He's getting older and it's getting harder to mitigate against the huge tide of 'boy vs girl', especially when it comes from caregivers, school, other kids who have been taught about 'boy things' and 'girl things'.

The boys doing 'boy shit', or actually, what every kid wants to do (me and my sis were there too, dying to have a shot!)

Me and my boy!

But right now, it doesn't.  Right now, it's about him just doing his 'kid' thing for as long as possible.

Right now it's about him doing what makes him happy.

It should always be as simple as that.

And if anyone wants to tell my boy, this guy, raised by me, a woman, that a 'girl' thing is in any way, shape or form weaker or inferior or wrong, let's dance.

Likewise, if one day he comes home and tells me that 'girls suck' or 'girls are stupid'  then I will take him to town too.

It's a nicely balanced deal.

Today, my boys are enjoying their jewels.

They look damn fine in them too.

When you are in that place

Some days you need two hands for the kids, two more for the stuff they asked you to carry and five more for the weekly food-shop bags.

Some days you despair at having spent the whole day cleaning, just to find that the little buggers have gone behind you, tipping everything out and scribbling on the furniture with a rogue ballpoint (that shit doesn't come off by the way).

Some days you are so tired that you can't find the energy to make yourself food to eat, but instead you find yourself scraping the bottom of the barrel to make your kids sandwiches that look like pirate boats, because that's what they asked for, and you love to make them smile.

Some days you do three loads of washing, hang them all out, feel proud of yourself and then find at least five more loads worth in the bedrooms.

Some days you feel so lonely, like nobody else could ever know how it feels to make the horrible decisions that you as a parent have to make every day; how to solve sleeping problems and tantrums, how to get past the latest phase, how to deal with crazy, exhausting timetables.

Some days you feel as though you are the only one who cares about these things; that if you stopped caring, the whole world would collapse - the dishes would never get done, nobody would ever have a bath, teeth would go unbrushed and turn black and fall out, children would escape onto the streets in front of oncoming traffic, everyone would go hungry.

Some days, all you want is nothing more than to curl up and sleep, to hide in the cupboard under the sink and close your eyes and melt into blackness.

When you are in that place, know this: there is an army of people out there who feel the same as you.

You!

That the older you grow, the more you realise that nobody knows what they are doing - they are all equally unaware as to how their future lies.

That your days are punctuated by happy bits, however small they may seem.  They do exist for those who look for them.

That what is happening now will not be that way forever.

That life is short.

That one day, you'll realise, these are the best days.

Treasure them. You ain't getting them back.

Dave: 'My Name Is Earl'