Raising boys to become men…

My Wife and Boys,
My Wife n Boys

What can I say. My children are procrastinators, tricksters and dreamers, but all and all good kids. I have 5 son’s and one daughter ranging from 24 years old to 2 years. The one thing I remain steadfast on, is my children being respectful and honest, to themselves and to others.  I am here to talk about my experience and relationship with my boys, my next post will be about my princess. The first thing I want to mention here is there’s alot of testosterone in my house, too much for my wife to handle. The standard dress code at home are boxers and singlets.  On occasion there’s chest bumping , arm wrestling and my wife’s beautiful things getting smashed up. You would think I need a ringmasters whip to keep them in line. But no, I need just to give the eye’s of death and that sort of works.

Each one of my boys are different in their own unique way. I have 3 golden lessons I’ve taught my kids, when they are out playing sport or just hanging out with mates. 1  Don’t give up! 2  Never start trouble, but if it comes your way finish it. 3  Always help those in need. People might disagree with me, but these lessons has served me to be the man I am today. I just want them to be strong independent men.  To not to be followers, but leaders for whatever they choose to do in life.

My life has been truly enriched by my wife and kids. I have seen all my beautiful children enter this world, through the strength of my wife. We have had some incredibly tough times, times I was not able to shelter my children from.  My wife and I became homeless with four small children and we found ourselves in the system.  From emergency housing in the red light district of St Kilda, to lining up with our babies in tow for food at the City Mission daily.  We were finally given a full time place to stay in a Commission housing block in Fitzroy Melbourne.   I felt so helpless, not being able to feed my kids it tore my soul apart.  My children learnt quickly not to take things for granted.  I will never forget how my kids hid biscuits and fruit up their sleeves like squirrels because they didn’t know when the next meal would come.   Keeping them from seeing too much was impossible.  My wife made up games to keep them occupied while a prostitute and a homeless man traded blows and called one another vile putrid names.  “Whats a C***t daddy?”   “Why is that man hurting that lady?”  My children were the pièces in a chess game.  My eldest were the pawns.  I can ruin their sweet innocence by asking them to help mummy and daddy make sure the two babies were never in harms way and read them books and sing songs while waiting in food and clothing lines.  Humpty Dumpty saved the day.  I have asked them over the years what they remember,  thankfully, the two babies dont remember anything.  My two eldest……….. “were ok dad”

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