Friday, April 13, 2007

My Son of A Bitch!

Call my son many things and you may get your nose punched in - if not be him, by me. I stand by my baby boy probably a little more steadfast than most moms might if only for the fact that he was given the raw end of the deal early on. Call my son a "Son of a Bitch" and you've hit the nail on the head! Yes, he is one.

When a woman makes herself out to be assertive she's often regarded by her male counterparts as being, well , bitchy. He's an intelligent and well educated man, where she may be considered a know-it-all and a smart-ass. Like most things in our lifetime, being intimidated by a woman's upfront nature, confident face, and informative voice is just going to take a little time with most insecure people....unfortunately. Time may change, no, time will change that probably, but until then I'll take the name calling - I can handle it. When someone calls me a bitch, I usually turn and add "That's Dr. Bitch, thank you." I worked my butt off for that title - got a high score in the process, too.

Reuben was in the 10th grade, on the field, in his #63 jersey playing defensive end for the Putnam City Pirates - I think he was actually going against my old school, their rivals, the Putnam City West Patriots. He lined up after just having sacked the Pat's quarterback - again, and the nose guard snarled at my baby. He and Reu had played ball together in the 8th grade, and he came across with a greeting my son picked up on very nicely - "Don't try that again, you son of a bitch" the kid scoffed at the bruised and smiling DE - "You called me a son of a bitch?" Reuben asked "Yeah, you're a son of a bitch!" was his reply - "Oh, I guess you remember my mom, cool. She's doing fine, thanks for asking." With that he made another attempt at stopping the ball. My son. 100% my son.

There are in my opinion, two types of men in this world - men who will, and men who won't accept themselves and others as being needed, loved, necessary, and capable of great things. My son is a man who knows he didn't get where he is today alone. I like to think I had something to do with that realization - I won't let him back down, I won't let him give in, I won't let him question or doubt truth. He and I both say things we don't mean from time to time, and we both know that sometimes we're completely full of it - not only IT, but ourselves as well. Good for us!

So, yeah - call him a BASTARD and I'll remind you that his father's name is Richard Palmer Lock - call my son a son of a bitch, and I'll just smile at you while he explains, there ain't nothing better to be! (His words)

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