Boys will be boys

It's a mother's natural instinct to protect her child. Sometimes that instinct can lead to us becoming over protective. Sometimes that can lead us to going to Tescos and buying two basket loads of cotton wool, cling film and double sided sticky tape with which to wrap said kids in so that they'll be safe from harm.
Not that I have done that, or anything. When I’m wrapping my kids up I always use bubblewrap. Less mess, less fuss.
But in these past eight years that I’ve been a mother I’ve learned that sometimes it's good to let go a little, let them make their own mistakes, bump their knees, scratch their elbows.
A bit of rough and tumble is fine; it’s good for their development. It teaches them life lessons, makes them hardy and gives them the tools to face life's challenges. It teaches them to know what their limits are and helps them figure out for themselves what is possibly hazardous to their health.
Truth be told I let them think they are doing all this stuff themselves, but I am normally stationed at the sidelines biting my lip hard so as not to involuntarily shout ‘Be Careful!’ every 10 seconds and gripping a First Aid Kit in one hand and a safety net in the other.
My boys are big fans of survivalist Bear Grylls. For those of you unfamiliar with the man, he has his own show where he gets dropped off in dire and dangerous places around the world – think the Amazon Rain Forest, the Sahara desert – ¬ for a week and survives on nothing but his wits and a few bugs for dinner. He climbs cliff faces using rope made from trees, fashions boats from twigs and sleeping bags from sheep carcases - a la sheeping bags.
Even before Bear Grylls was on the scene my boys and my husband would head out into the wilderness of the Donegal countryside at weekends. They would wander around for hours doing men stuff, like climbing trees and stream walking, hiking and, for all I know, seeing who knows the baddest swear words.
The husband has long nurtured the notion that arming them with the skills to catch a fish, climb a mountain and live off the land will empower them, give them the confidence to know that they are strong, capable boys who can push themselves and do anything in life. And I know they are safe in his hands.
The girls in the house are mostly left out of these adventures, partly because we would slow them down - what with wanting to stop and smell nice flowers and stuff - and partly because they all know that my mother instinct would render me a gibbering, blubbering wreck when I bore witness to their antics.
As a girl I don't see the attraction of climbing up a steep, rocky mountain just for fun when it's freezing and there's no Starbucks at the top. I don't really get the thrill of walking up the middle of a stream, getting soaked to the skin. I'm not big on bugs so I'm don't get the whole looking under big rocks for crawly stuff thing either.
The husband knows that if I was to accompany them on these adventures I'd be standing at the bottom of that mountain holding placards saying 'Careful now!', shouting warnings from the side of the stream about 'catching your death of cold' and pleas about not getting muck on their good shoes.
I’ll continue to stay out of their manly adventures and I’ll be here when they come home, with an abundance of dry clothes, plasters and hot mugs of tea.
My husband is creating very happy memories for them. I’ll just have to let boys be boys.