Thoughts for Mothers of Teenage Boys

Image credit: Digtallife from Pixabay

In some cultures mothers are separated from their sons when the son enters adolescence, and they don't reunite until the son is a man. This, I deduce from my reading and my own experience as a mother, is because mothers sometimes slip back into treating their son as a little boy, which is not helpful when he is engaged in the process of becoming a man.

I read recently that in Australian Aboriginal culture there is a big difference between a boy and a man. I wonder if in all humanity, one of the biggest transitions a human being makes might be the one  between childhood and manhood. 

I think of men as being able to be tender with little babies and children because they have successfully broken away from being a small child who requires nurturance and protection, into being capable of providing nurturance and protection for a child.

That's a big change to traverse.

The land of childhood, the land of manhood, and the ocean of change between them

I imagine it as if there is a land of childhood, where a baby boy is born and spends his childhood. Throughout his babyhood and childhood, ideally, he is cherished and nurtured by his mother; cherished and protected by his father. A boy's "work" during these years is to enjoy himself, play, explore, and grow.

A boys mother has both feet on the land of childhood, but his father has the ability to step across the ocean strait that lies between the land of childhood and the land of manhood.

At some point playing, exploring, and growing cease to feel satisfying enough for the boy and he begins to need something more than is available to him in the land of childhood. He needs challenges, purpose, dignity, and to make a contribution.

At this time, ideally, the boy's father stands with both feet firmly in the land of manhood, beckoning to his son. (Ideally, a whole brotherhood of men stand with the father, also beckoning.) When a man stands with both feet on the land of manhood, beckoning his son, that man no longer babies that boy.

How I believe mothers can help

During his adolescent years when a boy is traversing that ocean strait (I picture him rowing a canoe through the waves, his eyes fixed on the further shore), if a mother holds him back by continuing to baby him, he will find the journey much harder, and more confusing and demoralizing, than it needs to be. He may feel indignant, and he may express anger toward his mother. (I'm not a psychologist; there may be a slew of other things he might feel as well.)

When my teenage son expresses anger that seems related to something I'm doing, I try to remember to check whether I'm holding him back in his task of rowing for that further shore, by mothering him as if he were still a small boy.

In accounts I've read of cultures in which mothers and teenage sons do not interact, sons ritualistically separate from their mothers and the mothers literally mourn the loss of their baby boy. They are supported by their culture to release him completely, so that he can be free to focus on rowing for the shore his father and uncles are calling him toward. 

And then, when the son returns as a man, the mother welcomes him, celebrates him, and honors his new status as a provider and protector.

What about mothers who are not supported by their son's father?

If you are single mother or a mother struggling in any kind of parenting relationship that is not working, I bow to you. No human being has a harder job than yours. 

For whatever they're worth, I offer my heartfelt admiration and empathy, and the following three ideas. 

Boys need men 

The first idea comes from my memories of a dear friend who raised her son and daughter not as a single mother, but as the wife of a man who struggled with trauma from his own childhood and was unsupportive and often absent. 

My friend read Raising Boys when her son was a toddler, and learned that boys need men. There's only so much a mother can give her son, and at a certain point she needs good men to step in and help.

When her son grew big enough to play soccer, my friend scoured the country towns around her to find the one with the best adult male mentors coaching soccer and the least amount of beer drinking on the sidelines. Then she drove her son to that town several times a week for many years, to be coached by men she admired. With their help, she raised a fine young man who now towers over her and has the widest smile you could ever imagine.

When women step down, men can step up

The second idea is that when we as women overdo it on the caretaking front, men tend to step aside and leave it all to us. 

Just sayin'. 

This is a big, gnarly topic that's way beyond the scope of this post, but I just want to nod to the idea that if you can find it in yourself to leave the parenting more to your son's father, he might step up. 

He almost certainly will NOT step up the way you think he should, but he may step up the way you need him to. It'll be up to you to stay out of the way long enough for your nervous system to be able to recognize the difference. 

Our sons need to see that men can be respected 

Our sons deserve--need--to see that men can be worthy of respect. If all he sees is your contept of his father or of men in  general, he will grow up expecting to be met with contempt.

No matter how disappointed you may be in men generally or your man in particular,  your son needs this from you far more than he needs you to remember his water bottle or his hat for him.

He needs to see what it looks like when a man is worthy of respect. Men become worthy of respect when we give it to them.

Hear me out. Yes, there are gazillion other factors at play in that potentially loaded statement that "men become worthy of respect when we give it to them," but most of them are beyond our control.

What is in our control as mothers of teenage sons is relatively simple. We can make an effort to find a man we can respect, demonstrate our respect, and let our sons see what that looks like.

I believe this is essential nourishment for the making of a self-respecting man. He can't grow up strong without it.