Spit Spots and Sweaty Socks

An enduring look at the joy of boys

By Teri Ip

My weekends are my own. For approximately 28 hours each weekend I revel in the knowledge that my two young boys are in the care and custody of their Dad, while I take the 'break' I so deserve after a five day 'week-and-a-bit' of single parenting.

It's not easy being me. Kudos to all parents, moms and dads alike, who know the challenges of having to schedule, juggle, chauffeur, divide and conquer in the daily life of raising children. I think it all comes down to balance. There will always be 24 hours in a day but sometimes as a single parent it feels more like there are 24 days in an hour. Longer if you have boys.

There is something unending about boys. The way they are always on the go from morning until night. The way they have a limitless supply of energy and a bountiful array of ideas. The way they are always hungry! I see this most often with my youngest son who's seven. After a satisfying dinner, no sooner are the dishes washed and put away, when I hear him say, "Mom, I'm hungry". "But you just had dinner" I reply. "Yeah" he laments, "But I'm still hungry". I try to reason with him. "Well then, how about an apple?". "No" he says. "Well then, I guess you're not that hungry." And the debate goes on until he realizes there is no use in arguing with his mother, or until his mother realizes there is no use in arguing with the steadfastness of a seven year old!

And then there is the brother. The nine year old. It seems that whenever there is trouble of one kind or another, it is never his fault and it was never his idea. Unless it turns out to be a spectacular achievement that mom thinks is the coolest thing. Then of course it IS his idea and he takes all the credit. If you think reasoning with a seven year old is tough, try it sometimes with a nine year old! My nine year old likes to remind me (often) of the things I said or didn't say, and the rules I make and then keep changing.

Change is a good thing. In fact, the only constant in life is change. However for a nine year old, change is an opportunity to point out that "yesterday you said this and today you're saying that", and "gee mom, we didn't have to do it this way before so how come now we do?" Change is a good thing, but in our home it opens the door for too many battles that I do not have the energy to fight. (Who likes to fight?). Never try to match wits with a nine year old. The nine year old will always win because as well as being tuned in to the inconsistencies of his mother, he has the ability to remember every single detail of any given moment, and will not hesitate to remind you of a promise you made three months ago while washing dishes from the dinner that didn't fill your seven year old's tummy.

And then there are the socks. I take no credit for this one because I am convinced it is an innate 'guy' thing. And since I am a single mom I do not understand (yet) why it is that boys MUST leave dirty socks and other miscellaneous items of clothing strewn about the floor, especially when they've requested (and been granted) a dirty-clothes hamper in their bedroom. How hard can it be to #1: remove socks and #2 place in clothes hamper? Perhaps it is too difficult a task. Perhaps it is just a phase. Perhaps having the clothes hamper in their room within easy reach and accessability is in fact a deterrant rather than a convenience. (mental note: remove clothes hamper from bedroom and see if it makes a difference).

Another joy of having boys is knowing they would win hands down in any watermelon seed-spitting contest. This would of course make any mother proud! During one of my many weekend 'breaks', I took it upon myself to spend some valuable 'me' time tidying up. (oh the ways we spend our days!). I had especially wanted to rid the bathroom mirror of spit spots that no doubt were testimony of the entire week's toothbrushing ritual. Somehow for my boys it makes no rhyme or reason why they should spit INTO the sink rather than AT the sink and everywhere else in between. The result is that I spend every morning during the week staring into a mirror full of spit spots and merely shaking my head... wondering.

My thoughts at moments such as these are that, as much work as it is being a single parent, and as frustrating as it can be at times, I know for a fact that one day my boys will be grown up men that I will be proud of, as I am proud of the boys they are today. They will undoubtedly continue their traditional expressions of male-ness by leaving socks on the floor, and I can be absolutely certain there will be many more years of spit spots to remove until they finally 'get it' and realize how much better their reflection is without the spots. But in all of this, the thought bringing sadness mixed with pride and joy is that one day I will actually MISS those sweaty socks and spit spots, and I know that in the process of their growing-up years, my boys have permanently etched a place in their mother's heart.