by Nichole Nash

Created on: January 24, 2008

I've raised my son alone since he was a year old. I used to worry ad nauseam that he needed a father figure, someone to teach him "how to be a man." I've done my best trying to fill that role. I've learned how to throw a decent pass, how to pitch a tent, and how to beat most any song on Guitar Hero (medium level). I've resisted the urge to shriek when my son walked through the door with some goopy, mud-covered animal enclosed in his palms. I've dumped a box of Cheerios in the toilet to teach my son how to aim. I've wrestled on the bed, couch, floor and ground, and usually come out on bottom, sporting fresh purple spots the next day. I've laughed with my son over the girly-girls who stuff their bras in the bathroom at school, resulting in breasts that change size daily.

Don't get me wrong. It's not as if my son has lived in a bubble where males aren't allowed. He's spent many summers at "Grandpa Camp", where he's learned about carpentry, electrical wiring, and most recently hunting. He's spent time with youth leaders and male teachers. He's been exposed to male neighbors, fathers of his friends, and occasionally men I've dated (although I rarely allow this). Regardless of whether there is a father in the home, all boys (unless they live on some island governed by Amazons), still have some kind of exposure to males, and are able to garner from their exposure to these males what qualities they admire.

I certainly don't try to claim that raising a son alone is a breeze. It takes stamina and nerves of steel. It takes a willingness to not worry about breaking a fingernail, or getting splattered with something green and slimy. It takes being able to tolerate and even laugh at the occasional belch, flatulence, and taco eating contest. (I could pay for my son's college with what I've spent at Taco Bell.) It also takes not being scared to talk openly about girls, sex, male hormones, and how cool it is that he's got facial hair. It takes laughing at what most women call stupid jokes, and enduring hours of rhetoric about Star Wars, Mortal Kombat, and Big Buck Hunter.

What I've learned is that the development of a boy into a man is a personal quest, not something that requires the presence of a man. Boys look around them, at the actions of parents, peers, teachers and celebrities and decide for themselves what values and lessons they want to embrace. Too many times parents conceitedly think they are the center of their sons' universe. And they are, until about age six. Then the other kid in the sandbox wields much more influence than any parent. We can influence their decisions by deciding who that other kid will be, and by talking openly and asking questions of our boys, but ultimately they decide who they will become.

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