Boys Will Be Boys?

I have mentioned before I have three sons (at the risk of dating myself very badly here I admit I always hear the "My Three Sons" theme song playing in my head when I speak of my boys collectively). I call them my boys because despite the fact that they are all, by law at least, adults they will be my boys until the day I depart this earth.

So with this being Sunday I was blessed with a visit from two of them today. My third, the middle boy lives in Germany (a story I will share another day... each of these young men is worthy of a story and then some) but my oldest (at 24 years), his fantastic girlfriend and my youngest (18 years) joined me for an afternoon of nothing and everything.

Today after just hanging for a while we engaged in an avid game of Trivial Pursuit (yeah for me.... just by virtue of age alone one would think I have an advantage). So as we bantered about trivial issues and argued obscure cultural references I was struck, yet again, by how my sons communicate with each other.

From my experience, boys communicate in a very different way than girls and certainly brothers take that difference to an extreme. Now please know, I am not so stupid to not realize there are miles of library shelves, piles of university theses extolling in great detail the differences in the way the sexes communicate. I know I know. Mars Venus for crying out loud. But as a mother it is a remarkably difficult thing to watch. And accept.

Boys are tough on each other. Rough in their references, harsh in their criticism and unforgiving in their judgments. I have had this conversation with male friends of mine and it seems to be true of male to male friendships as well as with brothers. Boys become their own harshest critics to toughen each other up, make each other stronger but all the while knowing when one of their posse is challenged they will fight to the death to defend each other (melodramatic, I know but you get my point).

And so it is with my boys. The insults and criticisms fly with unrelenting swiftness punctuated with occasional comments from me to "be nice... brotherly love... hey! that's my son you're talking about!" I have for years tried to curb this behaviour, for years to no avail. I have come closer to not feeling hurt each time one of these criticisms is flung with such determination towards a boy I have spent my life trying to protect from pain and hurt but it's a hard thing to observe. But what I also know in my heart is that they have a deep respect and love for each other (they will never forgive me if they ever read this) and that is what I keep telling myself as they go through this demented ritual. So I try to sit back, try to relax and let them be.

But the whole time, over and over in my head is playing, "can't we all just get along?" Honestly.