Have you ever felt like the world should open up its grounds and swallow you? That’s exactly what happened to me, June, a mother of three sons aged fifteen, thirteen and nine nearly a decade ago. I had spent my life as a single mother, having been widowed five years into my marriage and left with young ones. Raising sons reminded me of everything my late husband was. Loving, protective, tall and handsome. I loved those boys and would defend them to the grave. However, the challenge of disciplining them was actually real.
You see, as a woman, and growing up without brothers, all I knew was about girl stuff. It would have been more natural to talk about make up, menstruation and growth of breasts with my daughters had I any. That’s why, as my sons were getting to puberty, my heart kept throbbing, as I wondered how I would deal with their changes and discipline them. Let me remind you that I grew up in a strict home, where my sisters and I kept being discouraged not to walk around boys and men as teens. Then here I was, raising sons and not knowing what I should tell them.
I wasn’t a fan of allowing my boys to visit relatives to sleep over, because of my protective nature as well as knowing that they could pick out some unwanted behavior from there. This specific holiday season was different however. My male cousin, who’s sons got along with mine requested if they’d visit his place for a three days. It was a man meet they called it. I assumed that the boys, who were in the same age group would go to have fun as well as being initiated well with good talks around manhood. Being the enthusiastic single mother I was, I willingly sent them there and told them to behave themselves. Little did I know that our lives would change forever.
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The fateful Sunday when my sons returned, I noticed that something about them had changed. It was in the way they looked at me, as if with mixed shame, guilt and a broken innocence. Asking how their stay was, it was answered with short answers, something quite unusual. Well, I decided to progress with my Sunday routine till that afternoon when I overheard the boys shouting out loud in a somewhat excitement of sorts. As I tiptoed to my son’s eldest room, which it sounded like they’d gathered in, my heart raced faster than usual. Why was I tiptoeing? Was I afraid of what I’d see? Before all these thoughts settled in, I was at the door, and opened it without a sound.
That’s when I saw it first hand. My heart broke in a million pieces. In front of me sat my sons, staring at the TV, and watching pornography. My young innocent sons. Their eyes were now corrupted and I felt helpless. It is in times like those that I wished their father was alive. What could he have done? I asked myself for a millisecond as I processed the scene. Hastily, my eldest switched off the TV, their faces looking like they were struck by lightning from the shock of seeing me. We shared a moment of silence, as I moved slowly towards the sofa next to theirs.
“What should I say?” “How can they unsee this?” I asked myself. You see, my parenting approach was to always try and calm down before speaking so as to avoid the situation being volatile. My youngest son burst out crying, and all I could do at the time was hug them. They knew it. They knew they were on the wrong. Being brought up in a Christian home also raised the stakes too. For that moment, I decided to hug them all, bring them close as a whispered prayers. Tears started flowing from my eyes too. Me, a mother of three sons, how would I redeem the image my sons had of women and sex in general? It was after twenty full minutes, which felt like hours that we finally broke the silence and I had mastered up enough courage to address the issue. With a straight face, I told them to sit against me as I asked the questions.
This session went easier than I had imagined. You see, the relationship with my sons wasn’t strained. We’d talk a lot and my policy was that honesty is the best policy. Soon after asking where they got the material from (with a very calm voice), they mentioned that one of their cousins had given them and told them to watch it. That’s how my sons broke their innocence. I briefly explained that what they saw was wrong and corrupting to their minds, and that their father and me enjoyed sex, only under less demeaning forms as that which they’d seen.
It was then that my sons opened up about their sexuality fears, they asked me questions about whether sex was good and who should do it. I didn’t hide it from them, even as a single mother, I knew that this day would come and I wanted my late husband to be proud of how I handled the sex talk with his sons. Being more open and encouraging my sons that pursuit of a healthy sexual relationship was the way to go, helped me speak to my childrens’ young hearts, much as their innocence would never be the same again.
The following day, I set up an appointment for therapy where my counselor friend booked us in for teen and sexuality sessions which my sons agreed to participate in. After phoning my cousin, I explained what had happened and he chose to deal with the situation his way. It’s been some years now and my youngest is eighteen with my first son happily married. Looking back, I feel proud as a mother that I handled my sons with care and caught them off the claws of pornography. I often tell the younger mothers that, treat your children with love even when they make the most grievous mistakes. It’s the love that causes a craving to change in character, not the screams nor the spanking.
