Old/New World Discourse: Celebrating my boys

Whereas in my last entry, "Missing My Girls," August 10, 2008, I proffered my feelings about my daughters' place, both real and symbolic, in my family's home, it is insufficient to stop with that sort of appreciation. I am Blessed, as well, to have sons.

That sons are integral to Jewish family life has never been questioned. From brit milah and pinyon haben ceremonies through to saying Kaddish for deceased parents, male children, in general, are prized, by religious families, during all of the human life cycle.

More specifically, male children are prized in our religious family, during all of our life cycle. It is not so much that we value them because Boy-Getting-Taller is a martial artist extraordinaire (we're glad he's channeling all that nervous Israeli energy somewhere) or because Boy-Who-Needs-Books is especially facile with our colony of imaginary, desert-sprung hedgehogs (his extra calories go into creative, mental work. See: "Bad Little Things," Aug. 4, 2008)) as it is that our sons matter to us.

Consider that when Boy-Getting-Taller plays his guitar, he is well lauded, although his consummate skill does not surpass more than a few basic chords. Consider, as well, than whenever Boy-Who-Needs-Books helps other family members with Hebrew verbs, he is treated as genius, both for his talent and for his patience, although he'd interspersing his illumination of Hebrew tenses with complaints about how much he'd rather be sketching small mammals. My family considers such attributes, of our sons, at some point, to be superficial.

Interestingly, our well-adored sons are uncomplicated in their living. On the one hand, they have a fixed schedule of prayer and of study time. On the other hand, they are less likely to flit socially among friends, found in various neighborhoods of our holy city, than are their sisters. What's more, the boys generally prefer to stay put at bedtime and to leave their mates behind at dark.

Their undemanding manner of living is perceptible at mealtime, and during chores, as well. If the food is charif (spicy), they'll eat it (albeit even if the food is not, they'll eat it, too. See: "Packaging and Brown Rice," May 14, 2007). Per household duties, activities that are clear-cut, that receive neither embellishments nor other forms of amendments, are the best for them. Consider such attributes, too, at some point, to not be the ones that truly matter.

Sure, low maintenance children, the ones who seemed to have studied straightforwardness, are likable and even easy to live with. The effortlessness with which family members integrate is not a reason to love them, though (just to appreciate those qualities).

Those same sons sometimes forget that the floor is not a hamper (See: "A Singular Definition," Oct. 31, 2006). They question their parents' declared constraints on media usage, both ordinary and convergent (See: "Parenting Teens After the Advent of the Internet," Apr. 28, 2008). They are sensitive about how their parents talk to them (See: "Under the Hood," Jan. 30, 2008), though, they have little concern, at times, for their own personal safety (See: "Urgent Care," Feb 27, 2007). Such attributes, too, make it easy to feel a fondness in their direction, but, alas, also not the reason why we care about our boys so much.

I love our boys. Computer Cowboy loves our boys. Our girls love our boys. We love them, in short, because they are our family.

Little Smile:

Sometimes, I talk with my kids about my writing. From time to time, I might even ask one of them for a reaction to a piece of work (though Boy-Getting-Taller maintains that no "proper" Jewish mothers write speculative fiction).

Accordingly, Missy Oldest and I recently had the following conversation about one of my recently penned pieces of creative nonfiction;

Missy Oldest: "There are a lot of big words in there."

Me: I'm a big word person. I don't try to use them. They just happen."

Missy Oldest: "I understand Mom."

Me: "?"

Missy Oldest: I'm a messy person. I don't try to make messes. They just happen."

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Response to Readers:

To Sylvia in Australia, who wrote in response to "Terrified," thank-you for thinking of my family. May all of G-d's children find peace in this world.