The ancient art of raising boys, as mastered by none.
Welcome! My name is Cristina and I am a 36 yr old writer and single mother of four sons.
Those are the general facts that sum up my life.
It seems kind of obvious looking at this information, that I should at least have a go at writing a blog about raising the miniature male species. It has only taken me twelve years of brilliance to realise this, but I’m going to forgive myself because I’ve been kind of busy (see- barely coping).
Raising sons (well, children in general) is a job that requires a serious amount of fortitude, sense of humour and a strong gag reflex. It will drive you mad with fury, mad with joy and just mad in general.
Some of the situations we find ourselves in are plain ridiculous. The negotiations, conversations and explanations are sometimes so outrageous, you can only laugh. Or you would cry. And maybe never stop.
There is no manual that could have ever accurately describe the abstract art of trying to turn a little boy into a somewhat decent man. Or at the very least, not a criminal.
And yet, isn’t boytherhood just the most wild, beautiful and marvellous fun?!
So it’s kind of ironic that the day I have casually chosen to start writing this introduction just happens to be Valentine’s Day. Not because I am desperately bored and without a date, but because after all the craziness is said and done, raising my sons has been the love affair of my life.