I’m raising a mama’s boy.
I know what you’re thinking — “A mama’s boy?” No one wants a mama’s boy.
But I do. And I’m raising one.
I’m raising a boy who won’t take his mama for granted.
A boy who knows just how much she has given of herself to give him the life he leads.
I’m raising a boy who will show compassion at her tears. Who understands that even mamas are sad sometimes. And when that happens, it’s okay to show it. It’s okay to feel things.
I’m raising a boy who will be proud of her.
Who recognizes her unique talents and strengths and contributions, both in her role as mama, and outside of it.
I’m raising a boy who will cherish her. Who loves her fully and unconditionally, in spite of her shortcomings and despite her failures.
I’m raising a boy who will respect her.
Who sees women as equals, with equal voices with equal volume that share equal thoughts with equal weight.
I’m raising a boy who will defend her. Because a defender of women usually starts with his own mama.
I’m raising a mama’s boy.
Not because I want to keep him forever.
Not because I want him to prefer me.
Not because I want him to need me always.
I’m raising a mama’s boy.
Because I want him to remember these things I’ve taught him.
I want him to remember what he learned from the very first woman in his life. So that he will know how to treat every one that comes after.
This post was written by Emily Solberg of Shower Arguments and reprinted with permission.
