A few weeks ago, Parker’s kindergarten teacher told me I was a great mother for boys.  I can only think she told me this because I was a guinea pig where she experimented with different ways she could tell lies while keeping a straight face.

I don’t know.

When she said it, I made an incredulous face, and she then said I was great because I didn’t try to feminize my boys.   Again, I’m not sure if that was a compliment or she again was experimenting and actually said I’m raising two misogynistic, chauvinistic pigs.

But maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit.  Even though I grew up with only a sister, all girl cousins, aunt to only nieces, maybe I’m a natural at this mothering boys thing.

But T-ball came around and that pretty much reassured me I’m not exactly cut out for raising boys.

I saw moms out there throwing pitches to their boys while they warm up for the game.  Do you know the last time I threw a pitch?  It must have been in a previous life since I have no recollection.

I heard these moms shouting out all the right words when the boys swung a strike such as, “Now you’re ready!”  They even shouted encouragements out to my son while I sat quietly. I didn’t know what to say?! I was too busy having performance anxiety for my son!  Who can think under all that pressure?

Or my favorite swinging advice heard from a mom – “You have your shoulder too low when you’re swinging!”  How the hell did they even know that?  It’s T-ball, for Pete’s sake!  Which this should clue you into my most epic fail as a mother to boys.

I didn’t sign my sons up for T-ball from the age of four and had them play both spring and fall seasons so that by kindergarten they’re on their fourth season.  And so my poor, poor son is out there, playing like a true KINDERGARTENER instead of a six-year-old poised to try out for the Majors next week.

So yeah, I’ve felt pretty depressed and undeserving of the teacher’s praise.

Until the other day…

At lunch, I ate my delicious summer bean salad and, needless to say, it left me…how do I put this delicately? It left me with a pronounced ability to produce gale force winds.  After the 2nd or third….okay, more like seventh wind breakage, Payton turned around and said…

“Gesh, Mom, you’re like the gas giant Jupiter!”

Behold, Jupiter!

I suppose I’m cut out to be a mom of boys after all. Especially for those of a scientific inclination.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 1st, 2009 at 8:11 am and is filed under This Mom Gig. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.