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Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy!

Confronting Motherhood, Womanhood and Selfhood in a Household of Boys

By Karin Kasdin

The fact that not one of my boys was physically able to sit in a stroller for more than a minute and a half at a stretch should have clued me in early on that they would be woefully inadequate shopping companions. Still, twice a year I let myself imagine a shopping spree during which we would share our views of the world while combing the racks. They have always preferred hiding under the racks so as to let the newest look in sleeves or pantlegs tickle their noses. A favorite game of Dan's was "Let's see how high I can count before mom notices that I'm missing and starts to convulse." We've all heard our share of "Monster in the Mall" stories -- shockers about evil people who can abduct a child in three and a half seconds, have the tyke's hair dyed in two minutes, and waltz out the door unnoticed before mom even realizes that her child has let go of her hand. I believe that a moment's embarrassment is preferable to a lifetime of anguish, so shy as I am, I never hesitated to scream my bloody head off when I suspected that one of my children was lost. I'm astounded that my local Macy's hasn't suspended my shopping privileges. Harold could never understand why I neglected to look for the boys under the racks, when that was where they were each time I misplaced them. Go explain brain paralysis to a father who hears the story only after the happy ending. Only another mother can understand the instantaneous coma you fall into the nanosecond you suspect that your child is missing. By my calculation I should've been dead forty-seven times by now.

It takes a while to recover from the gut fear that your child may be lying in a ditch somewhere because you spent thirty seconds too long debating whether to buy his jeans with or without elastic in the back. But we mothers of sons are a hearty lot, and we never let the possibility of death or mutilation interfere with a mission involving textiles. I always managed to pull myself together after a false alarm long enough to tackle the jeans question from all angles. An elastic waist would definitely make for a more comfortable fit, but everybody knows elastic is not cool. And cool rules when you have big brothers who will eat you for lunch if you dress like a geek. I always opt for the non-elasticized pants. The kind you have to try on.