Boys Are Pretty Too

Things always happen for my girls first because well, they are older. It's just a natural process. So by the time the 3rd one comes along, life's special moments are still as special but they don't catch you by surprise. Or do they?

Having 3 sisters and a host of girl cousins, boys just weren't familiar territory to me. In fact, when my son, Zachary, was born he was the first boy in my family since my Dad! But it wasn't long before I learned about balls and trucks and sports and mud and all those things boys hold near and dear to their hearts. And that's how I think of my boy -- he's a rough tumbler. He smells like sweat most of the time, he LOVES to be outside, he's so loud he even talks too loud, he's always busy and bossy and boyish. Could he ever be pretty too?

Being a Freshman, my dear boy decided to go to Homecoming this year. My heart only dropped slightly instead of plummeting since he's going with a group of boys and not a girl! Now the last time I saw my boy in a tie certainly was some Easter Sunday years ago when I donned him in some dorky dressy short outfit. I can't recall seeing him in a tie since he's been over 3 feet tall!

It's just a tie! It's not like it's some flowing beautiful gown that seems a prelude to a wedding dress. It's nothing that sparkles or shines. It doesn't have a fairytale flare nor a dazzling shimmer that brings out a bright smile. It's just a tie, a piece of fabric that hangs around your neck and it's boring and black and grey and white.

So on a Friday night my husband and I take our 15 year old son shopping for his Homecoming outfit. I wasn't even sure where to begin to find man-sized dress clothes. I wasn't even sure what his personal style would be. I mean, I could filter through piles of dresses and gowns and know what my daughters would like or deem hideous. What's in a tie? What's in some black boring dress pants? We ended up at a few different stores and put together an outfit fitting for a prince! I enjoyed the entire process and even learned a few things about men's sizing. There's so much to know; pants have two sizes, shirts have well -- like a thousand numbers, jackets have two sizes and a size 14 athletic shoe is not the same as a size 14 dress shoes. Yes, I was quite educated on the subject of men's clothing. Though I enjoyed having this experience with my son, it wasn't the same as the awes and ahs and gasps my girls would let out when something shiny caught their eye. It wasn't the same as seeing my girls twirl around in a three-way mirror with a sparkle in their eye that shined brighter than any sequins on the dress. No, this was bland and plain and there we no awes and ahs and gasps and giggles.

Since we pieced the outfit together from different stores, I couldn't wait to see the whole ensemble on my son so I told him as soon as we got home he was to try everything on. We got it all; pants, shirt, tie with matching hankie for his pocket, belt, shoes, socks. Everything was black, white and grey but it was crisp and sharp and nice.

Zachary didn't know how to tie a tie and I was all too willing to teach him. Yeah, being raised a good ole Catholic girl, I learned how to tie a tie by watching all those junior high boys frantically trying to get their uniform tie back on after recess. Being caught without your tie properly tied was a big offense. But my boy said a boy should learn to tie a tie from his Dad. And that he did. Then I said to the boy, "Stand back and let me see you." And it happened.

I cried.

Almost 18 years I have been a mother and here I am still learning the process. You see it's not the dress or the tie or the sequins and sparkle but it's all about the person inside the clothes. It's the little girl that is on the brink of womanhood that brings a mother to tears upon seeing her in her first formal gown. It's the grungy dirty stinky boy all cleaned up and grown up that brings a mother to tears. At that moment when your child is all spiffy and in "big boy" clothes, images of that chubby baby boy go flashing through your mind like a life video on fast forward.

I didn't let my husband nor my son see my tears. It's not just that these manly men don't understand the emotions of a mother but in that moment, my tears were private. They were the same tears I cried when the nurse exclaimed, "It's a boy!". They were the same tears I silently cried on my pillow when I had a sickly baby. They were the same tears I cried when I put that boy on a bus to Kindergarten and the same tears that stung my eyes the first time I heard an announcer calling out the starting line-up at a baseball game, ". . . . Zaaaachareeeeee Neewwwsoooooommmme. . . . ". Yes, those were private mom tears that I wanted to keep all to myself as I relished those passing moments of my boy stepping through life and now standing at the crossing into manhood.

And he was so pretty.