Why Mom needs to stand down, and you need to stand up

When our son Isaac was two years old, we realized Brock’s kidney cancer was terminal, and that I would eventually be a solo parent.

As is my habit, I turned to books to help me process this curveball.

In the many “parenting boys” books I skimmed in the subsequent years, the chapters on single parenthood (and single motherhood in particular) resonated with me. The authors concurred that positive male role models were critical for boys, and yet: “Be wary of men,” these books sometimes warned. “The fatherless son and single mother are vulnerable to predators.” Scary stuff.

Steve Biddulph’s classic, Raising Boys, helpfully outlined the stages of a boy’s development:

• Birth to age 6: it’s all about Mom. This is a boy’s first, foundation-laying relationship. Keywords: nurturing, security, love, trust.
• Age 6 to 13: the boy realizes he’s different from Mom. Specifically, he has a penis. So he looks around for other males, and discovers Dad. He wants to spend more time with Dad. He observes how Dad behaves in the world, and Dad becomes the boy’s primary role model.
• Age 14: the boy craves independence and starts distancing himself from both Mom and Dad. He looks around for new male mentors. If the parents haven’t lined up positive role models (coaches, teachers, relatives), the boy finds his own: often peers, which might lead him into trouble, or those adult predators we’ve already been warned about.

In some cultures, the men and fathers of a village take the boy-children from the mothers at age six and bring them into the wilderness for long months, to teach them how to be men. Survival skills, endurance, male bonding, whatnot. A rite of passage. When the boys return to the village, the apron strings have been severed and they are on their way to manhood.

I read all of this, and wondered how I’d fare raising a boy without my husband.

And now, here we are.

Solo Mom to a six-year-old

My son became increasingly difficult around his sixth birthday. I’m not a clingy mom, yet he was pushing away from me. I remembered the books I’d read, and tried not to take Isaac’s new, antagonistic attitude personally: he wanted his Dad.

However, Brock had died two years earlier. We’d have to skip the “Dad” stage, and head into the “other male role models” stage.

I sent out an S.O.S. email to my male relatives. I asked if they could please swing by and take Isaac along on their errands: trips to the dump, snow shovelling, hardware store forays. Show him how men behave in the world. Have manly heart-to-hearts in the truck about why he shouldn’t be rude to his mother.

I signed Isaac up for judo (with male senseis) and piano (a male teacher), and sought out older boys who could be positive role models. He started spending more time with his teenage cousin. Tuesday evenings became “boys’ night,” spent with my boyfriend and his pre-teen sons.

Why is this man-time so important? Here’s my theory:

Dads introduce the grit

Dads, grandpas and other (good) men are ESSENTIAL in the lives of young boys, because men naturally introduce small doses of conflict.

This includes physical conflict, like wrestling and sports, but also emotional, interpersonal and intellectual conflict. Boys learn how to respond to conflict, problem-solve, and manage their emotions by practicing with these safe male mentors. These small doses of grit make our boys resilient as they grow into men.

How do men do this?

Dads tease

On a very simple, daily level, men speak differently to children. Here’s a conversation I heard between a grandpa and a six-year-old boy at the skating arena earlier this week:

GRANDPA: Did you remember to bring your skates?

BOY: Um, no. [Stands shocked for a minute, wondering what to do next.]

GRANDPA: Good thing I did.

These little moments of friction toughen up our kids, in a good way. “Teased” boys start to realize that obstacles and challenges are a part of life. They will encounter and have to interact with challenging people, not just their coddling caregivers: they get to start practicing how to manage themselves in these situations.

Dads chip away at the selfishness

An hour later, after skating, I squatted awkwardly, balanced on my skate blades, helping my son get his own off. To my left, I heard the boy ask his grandpa for help with his skates.

GRANDPA: Sure thing, once I have my own off.

Many Moms are self-annointed martyrs: our impulse is to make our children’s lives easier, sometimes at the expense of our own. There’s a reason the airplane crew tells us to put our own oxygen mask on, in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, before helping the kid beside you: they know that goes against our instinct.

If moms like me are the only ones raising our boys, these children will get used to being put first. They will become entitled, spoiled, narcissistic princes, with silky innards that can’t handle the smallest of life’s gritty challenges.

Mom’s new mantra: “I am wallpaper.”

The hardest part for me, as I enable my son’s reaching out into the world of men, has been to stop micro-managing:

Isaac heads out the door for an adventure with his grandpa, and I want to stuff his coat pockets with granola bars.

He mumbles something funny to his distracted piano teacher, who ignores him, and I want to repeat the joke on his behalf.

He goes to the lake with my boyfriend, to smash the ice with rocks, and I want to deliver the second, dry set of gloves they left behind.

But I resist (usually). Yes, life is easier when you have snacks and dry gloves on-hand. But they’ll be fine without. Or, Isaac will learn to pack his own supplies, next time.

Mom: give them space

I once read a parable about a Dad taking his young daughter to a kid’s birthday party, from the perspective of the Mom: he didn’t put the special birthday barrettes in his daughter’s hair, or even brush it. She wore her normal play clothes, instead of a frilly dress. The present was wrapped in a newspaper. Mom found out these “mistakes” later, after her daughter came home glowing from a super-fun party. The Mom’s resulting epiphany: those little mom-touches aren’t critical.

It’s hard to be wallpaper, to stand down, to not enable. And it can be hard not to criticize when Dad forgets to pack the mittens when he takes your son ice fishing in January.

But let’s not criticize. Let’s resist the urge to interfere. Let Dad (or whatever trusted man took your son out for an adventure) build his own relationship with your kid. Let him figure out his own parenting style. Allow him to make his own mistakes, just as we Moms have.

Our sons won’t always have us there: this second, next relationship — with his dad or another male mentor — is an important first step toward independence.

Let’s become SuperMoms

Instead of judging Dad’s efforts or trying to “help” him, let’s stand back and watch: we can learn from Dad and these other men. Watch how he introduces small conflicts and challenges. Watch your son as he learns to problem-solve, to navigate the relationship, and become more self-sufficient.

I’ve been practicing man-style, “gritty” parenting, because as a solo parent I am both Mom and Dad. It goes against my nature and requires conscious effort. When we play board games or soccer, I don’t let him win. Sometimes I’ll steal popcorn from his bowl, even after he tells me to stop. I tell him to pack what he needs for swim club, instead of doing it myself.

True, I’m not enough for my son anymore, but I will always be his nest. My son loves to aim his butt at me when he farts, but he still needs a cuddle after school.

A final note to Dad:

I didn’t get to watch my husband go through the parenting journey, but I’m going to assume some things about your own.

Your son was born. Maybe you fantasized about sharing your hobbies with him: sports, electronics, books, whatever. Maybe you were excited to teach him the life lessons you’ve learned.

But he was still a baby. All he wanted was Mom. So you hung back and did what you could: you worked to pay bills, told your tired wife she looked pretty, changed diapers.

Now, six-ish years later, maybe she’s frustrated and confused: this son of yours is acting out. He’s rude. He’s entitled. He wants to play rough. She doesn’t know what to do. She loses her temper more often.

Dad: this is your wake-up call. It’s your call to arms. It’s your turn. When you leave the house, start taking him with you. At home, invite him into your man-cave. Cook dinner together. Build or repair something. Walk the dog.

Maybe she’ll be relieved when you start spending more time with him. She might try to micro-manage, or tell you that you don’t understand your kid as well as she does. Maybe she’ll criticize you when you forget the mittens.

Take a breath, shrug it off, and tell her (nicely) that you’re back in the game. It’s time to share the parenting. Because your son needs you now.

(Published on Medium.com on March 14, 2020.)

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