Boys to Men: when stuff falls off that was supposed to stay on…
Boys to Men: when stuff falls off that was supposed to stay on…
So my son just turned 18.
He is my man-baby.
Boys turning into men. Sigh.
I have two man-babies. But now, one is officially a man; the other one is still just 16. But the sixteen-year-old can buy his own cigarettes because of his beard and tattoo. And no, I don’t condone smoking. And yes, I have made him go and have treatments to get the tattoo removed, sin-anesthesia. Because I specifically told him not to get a tattoo and he got one anyway.
And the tattoo removal makes him cry like a baby who lost his woobie.
This brings me pleasure.
I don’t really care about tattoos. But I don’t like to be defied. And I don’t really care about smoking because we all try stupid stuff, I smoked, and I got over it.
There are hills I am willing to die on, and they include – Impregnating people, porn, texting and driving, alcohol, drugs, and defying me.
Also, I don’t freak out if they say don’t believe in God or Jesus.
I taught them about Jesus, they know I love Jesus, but you can’t make someone love Jesus.
Go ahead, try.
When man-baby 2 came home with the tattoo, I didn’t cry or anything. I just bore a hole into his soul and then googled a group-on for tattoo removal and hauled his butt in for the first treatment. He has to pay for the tattoo removal and his Hep and AIDS test and tetanus shot.
Idiot.
The tattoo removal chick said, “This tattoo is really fresh, are you sure you don’t want to let it heal a little?”
No words needed to be spoken. The malice on my face was the only permission she needed to proceed. She handed him some protective eyewear, and I tried not to laugh as he screamed.
And I used to scream and cry and freak out.
SIDEBAR: Man-baby one gave me permission to tell this story only if I first noted that recently the vandals (the boy-babies) were locked in their room, and he kicked the door in with only one try. It is important the you recognize that he is a 6’4″, bearded force to be reckoned with. Legend tells that he can kill a rabbit with his bow and arrow and roast it over an open flame. And kick in doors to save boy-babies. Also, now he is a Marine. So noted? (Idiot.)
Anyway, when man-baby one was born, he was our second baby, first boy. And we opted for the ‘band-circumcision.” Best I understood they took this plastic band and suffocated the foreskin off his junk. I still don’t understand the process. But, young and stupid as I was, when the little band and skin came off, it came off at the same time his dried umbilical cord fell from his wee belly button.
This was unfortunate.
So I was changing his diaper, and his crusty little cord and the plastic mechanism from the circumcision were in his diaper. His little weenie, apparently albeit healthy, shrunk up inside of his body from the trauma, leaving behind his bear bellybutton and lone testicles… no penis.
Hysterically, I loaded the newborn into our mini-van and took him to the emergency room. There I reported to the desk clerk that my newborn son’s penis had fallen off in what I deemed a butchered circumcision.
I. Am. Legend.
Everyone at the hospital got a real kick out of me trying to fill out paperwork, all of them laugh-snorting at how I didn’t know what sex to put on the paperwork and that where it said “Name,” I answered: John? Juanita???
Alas, this would not be the first or the last time I behaved with such hysteria. But, I have chilled out considerably.
And man baby one’s junk worked itself out. He is not a girl.
He is a terrific and brilliant young man.
And man-baby two’s junk will work itself out. The tattoo won’t magically fall off. He will have his own consequences. But, he will fall away from stuff that is pure rebellion and fall into stuff that is well thought out, and stuff that I have prayed over him… and for him. He too is brilliant, and I believe in him.
And he loves this post, and I love that about him.
Man-baby one will have junk he has to do to work stuff out, stuff he will fall into and stuff he crawls out of.
This is just life.
Now I have new boy babies, “the vandals.” And I hope the hysterics that guided my parenting in the early years didn’t scar the man babies too much. Moreover, I hope the lack of hysterics that guide my parenting now don’t scar the boy babies too much.
I disagree with Dobson in this: I am not bringing up boys, I am bringing up men.
And men need to be brought up by mommas who skip the anesthesia at a tattoo removal. Rub some dirt on it son. Yes, I will let you pee off the porch. Yes, I will teach you not to spit into the wind. Yes, I will ship you to military school when you act like a butt-head, and I will bring you quickly home when you are sorry. And yes, I will also let you eat Oreos, naked in the “cold sheets.”
Some stuff falls off that’s supposed to stay on. Some stuff stays on you’d wish would fall off. And some stuff goes with them for always, whether they admit it or not.
But that is the stuff that turns the boy babies into man babies.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
“These commands that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” Deuteronomy 6:6-7
Manbabies are launching… Check out these posts for more! Go and don’t believe…
And you mom as with littles… Check this out…
I am laughing so hard I think my face might fall off!!! So glad I had that coffee at 10 pm so I would be up to read this when you posted it!!
I can’t sleep… this maybe my Pulitzer.
Oh my gosh you’re crazy.
Thanks Daddy!
All true…especially about men still being babies, man-babies! Ha!
Hehe
Also true about James Dobson. “Bringing up Boys”; that’s plural. He has a boy and a girl. Bringing up a boy with a brother is a completely different thing.
My man-baby turned 18 last Monday and decided it was time to smoke a cigar. He walked into the cigar store where they immediately demanded to see his ID. He smoked the vile thing on our deck, where he made horrible faces and got an upset stomach. Half the cigar is still sitting on the window sill above the sink, stinking up the place. What is it with man-babies? The other man-baby, who is 15, reported that he’s now growing a mustache. Where? No clue as there is no substantial evidence on his upper life.
Yeah. My man baby left after bday cake and got a cigar and a lottery ticket. Didn’t get carded for either.
I am so, so glad I discovered your blog a short while ago. I have enjoyed it so much and look forward to your posts – especially ones about your man babies. I have 2, aged 17 and 15. Man baby one is 17 and not real tall but is scraggly bearded (proudly filling out into something that resembles more than a face fungus) and has been mistaken for older than he is – by being served alcohol at a bar without any request for id (legal age is 18 here in Australia) I was not a happy mama but I was glad he was honest enough to come home and tell me.
Man baby 2 is 15, 6’1″ tall and growing by the minute. Slim but broad shouldered, he is ALWAYS mistaken for being older than he is, as well as older than his brother, which doesn’t always go down well with man baby one. I’m
I have watched them develop their own very different styles and tastes. I’ve had regular conversations about tattoos from man baby one along with various other deep and meaningful chats covering every difficult topic parents of teen boys are likely to face on their parenting journey. I look forward to sharing your story with him as a deterrent for any sneaky tattoo action.
Bless you!
God may have been wise in giving me hust one man-baby!
Jami, I recently found your blog through the Cheerleaders of faith fb page. You make me laugh so hard, and parenting 4 teens…I need laughter to stay sane!
I, too, have man-babies. One who just turned 19 and the other is 15 (along with 2 hormonal teen girls). They are like Mutt and Jeff, or Rocky and Bullwinkle (as in being a moose and a squirrel.) 19 yr. old is 5’9 and loves body building, so he’s pretty buff. 15 yr old is 6″4 and 200 lbs without working out…. yea
I think my one of my favorite memories of being a 5’2″ mom of huge boys is one day they were arguing in the kitchen, I was down the hall in my room folding clothes. You also should know I had a big clunky walking cast on my foot. The argument turned into a fight, I could here tempers being lost and the potential to break something in my kitchen. So, as fast as my hobbling could take me…which increased my anger because it hurt to walk…I reached the kitchen to see the 6″4 giant 15 yr. old picking up the 5’9 19 yr. old and slamming him onto the island counter top… full on WWE body-slam style.
My grandmother taught me that I’d better make sure those boys respect their mother when they are little because one day they’ll tower over me… so I did.
To end the skirmish, I simply reached onto each head of hair and got a handful and pulled…sweetly asking if “we are done yet?”
A sheepishly muttered “yes mom…sorry” was the answer. 🙂
Laughing!
So glad I came across your blog! You seriously rock. I’m surprised you don’t have hundreds of comments proclaiming how you’re such a mean mother that “tried not to laugh as he screamed” when he got the tattoo removed. He cried. The tears dried. He lived. And hopefully he learned a valuable lesson about not defying your mother. Go Mom!
Thanks! The haters are busy over at an open letter to my children: You’re not that great.
I wish there was a simple “thumb” so I could “like” the blog as well as the comments. Keep doing what you are doing sister.
You. Crack. Me .Up.
Spilled my coffee.
Not the coffee!!!!
So LOVED it! Got a real kick out of it!!!
Hi Jami, nice to meet you. 🙂 Visiting you today from the rara linkup. — What a treat it is to be the mother of sons, isn’t it? My middle son is 18, and it’s such a hard age in some respects. He isn’t graduating from high school until June, so he’s not a full-on adult yet, but at the same time, that number “18” is not lost on him, and the fact that it represents adulthood is not lost on him. What a delicate balance it is to raise young adults. Relearning our place is an interesting phase in motherhood. Thanks for sharing your memories this morning. 🙂 ((grace upon grace))
Grace to you! I’ll check your blog out after I run kids! Thanks for stopping by! ❤️
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I am sitting outside the Y LMBO hoping they don’t call the cops on me…given your history he practically HAD to get a tattoo. Proved his manliness. My now 21 yo got an outrageously large tattoo when he was 16. He told me it was ok because he drew it himself (it was his confirmation poster, sigh). I let it slide. I was already a tired mommy and rested on the memories of years before when I threatened to walk up to him and his friends if I heard him cussing and say “penis” his cries if horror could be heard across the soccer field when he saw me coming after his latest infraction. Ahh, back in the day. Thanks for starting my day off with a laugh and good mommy memories. It may just sustain me to fight another day…
#solidarity
Jami,
Today, you are my hero! I absolutely needed to read these words this morning.
❤️
[…] also took John to the emergency room because I thought his penis fell off. How men live with such a fickle appendage is beyond […]
[…] mixture of laughter and tears, more laughter and then… I saw her; a young mom nursing a baby, sobbing at what I was […]