Mother-son relationships vs mother-daughter
“Mama, I’m so addicted to you,” my 6-year-old son Archer tells me, nearly spooning me, his arms wrapped around my waist. The three of us — Archer, my 3-year-old daughter Isla and I — are snuggling in bed after finishing a bedtime podcast.
Before anyone gets bent out of shape, we normally don’t co-sleep. We were staying at a friend’s place and it was either all of us in the bed or all of us on the floor. And because my over-40-year-old body would be wrecked for a week if I slept on the floor, we opted for the queen-size bed. Looking back, I’m not sure it mattered. My kids are like gymnasts when they sleep and no matter where we crash together, I wake up with a limb draped over my forehead, butt stuffed in my face or torso across my legs.
A kid on either side of me, I turn to the left and whisper in Archer’s ear, “I’m so addicted to you, too,” and kiss his cheek.
“Good night, you two,” I say, turning to my right, kissing Isla’s forehead and preparing to pull my arm out from underneath her neck and sneak out.
“Goodnight, bitch,” Isla says.
“What?” I ask, certain I misheard.
“Goodnight, BITCH,” she says, this time with more clarity, confidence and volume.
Of course, I ask follow-up questions like, “Where did you hear that?” and “Who taught you that word?,” positive she didn’t learn it from me. Obviously, I curse but ‘bitch’ is not one of my go-to’s or even in my top 5, for that matter.
Isla laughs, happy to get a rise out of me and credits her teacher for her expansive vocabulary, which I know is bullshit.
This is the story I tell my friend who was disappointed and cried after finding out she was having another boy. Obviously, I love both of my children, am thrilled to have one of each and revel in their very different personalities. But there is a difference between a mother-son relationship and a mother-daughter relationship. I mean, there’s a reason we have clichés about mommy and daddy issues.
Sons are viewed as protectors of their moms and seek out partners who remind them of the woman who brought them into this world. Oedipus complex, anyone? At the same time, a mother’s love for her son is often depicted as overbearing, stifling and sometimes even castrating. “Mama’s boy,” ring a bell? And when a son, adult or otherwise, misbehaves, we blame his mom. “His mama didn’t raise him right,” or “He doesn’t put his dishes in the dishwasher? God, did his mom just do everything for him?” Research has shown that some mothers have difficulty coping when her son marries, as another woman rises the ranks to №1.
Conversely, daughters are viewed as caretakers and we, as mothers, tend to treat them as we’d treat ourselves. So it makes sense why mothers can be judgmental of daughters. And as women, we’re taught to be silent, put our own needs last and teach our daughters the same. So begets a power struggle between mother and daughter of who gets to be heard because there is no sense that neither deserves it. That said, there is an indelible bond and inherent similarities between mother and daughter. My mom taught me how to wax my eyebrows, insert a tampon, accept a compliment, fix a tear in pantyhose, stand up for myself and that oral sex is in fact, sex.
Ultimately, both relationships are complex in different ways. And I’m terrified about all of the ways I will fuck each up. In the meantime, I try to keep the dialogue open and have honest conversations with my kids — even if one of them calls me, ‘bitch.’
