Warning: Boys at Play
To get to my heart, dear suitor, you first have to navigate past my three teenage sons. Good luck.
(Illustration by Kim Rosen)I've been divorced for more than two years, and I still haven't even had a cup of coffee with a guy. "Why not?" my friends ask. "Just go online," they urge. "There are all sorts of nice people there."
"Why not?" I mutter to myself. "I am raising teenagers!" I think of my sons, ages 19, 15, and 13, and all that comes with them. "Sure, I'll go online and post my ad":
Single Mom of Teenage Boys Seeks Man
Single mom of three teenage boys looking for a man who likes chaos. (Yes, I'm sure that'll attract them.) Someone who likes boys and sports. Someone who, when he steps out of his car and heads toward my house, can duck, cheerfully, to avoid soaring hockey pucks, Wiffle balls, baseballs, basketballs. Someone who can overlook a few dents in his car from one of these balls or one of these kids. (Yes, friends, they're lining up now, aren't they?)
Looking for someone who, when he opens the house door, can lunge gracefully over scattered shoes the size of canoes. Someone who is comfortable moving piles of baseball caps and tossed sweat shirts to find his seat. Someone who isn't too attached to his clothes, too worried about whatever might land on him during his visit with me and my sons - a little dog hair, a little salsa, a little soda, a little chocolate, a little potato-chip grease. A little reminder of exactly where he's been.
And while I'm on the topic of food, I'm looking for someone who thinks pizza is breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Or someone who can handle the humiliation of driving to Burger King two or three times in one night, based on the arrival of the boys and their spells of hunger.
My special someone should be patient, saintly patient, because my home is often bursting with not just my children but other people's children, too. My someone must endure blaring music, banging on walls as kids celebrate their ping-pong victories, hollering and wrestling of teenage boys establishing and re-establishing their group's pecking order.
Oh, and I'm looking for someone who doesn't need to sleep. Yes, that should have been first, actually. Someone who doesn't need to sleep, so he can take turns with me playing Officer Buckle when the kids come home. Someone who can perform breathalyzer tests, dish out verdicts and sentences with vigor and conviction. Someone who doesn't mind leaving our couch cuddle time, braving the blast of the winter night air, and sliding across his frigid car seat to pick up the kids from whatever event they may be attending or whatever havoc they may be creating. (Hello? Is there anyone left in line?)
Oh, yeah. I'm looking for someone who, without much sleep, will still help me clean. Someone who knows how to use a vacuum, clean a toilet, scrub bath tiles, wash windows, rake leaves, mow the lawn, trim hedges, prune rosebushes, weed the garden. Someone with muscles.
Yep. This guy has to have muscles, because my teenagers are cleverly absent when it comes time to haul out the trash or lug in the cases of soda from BJ's. I'm looking for someone who can rip out the ghastly bushes from my front yard, lift and carry the broken elliptical machine up my cellar stairs. This guy must be able to pry open pickle jars, my 80-year-old warped storm windows, and teenagers' hearts.
My someone has to think going to a kid's baseball, soccer, basketball, or hockey game is better than any date at a pub or restaurant, because there's no place I'd rather be than with my kids. In a few years, my house will be quiet, my couches will be clean, my doorway will have only my shoes parked on the mat. I'm smart enough to know that they will not be with me forever, and I don't want to miss my time with them.
My someone, God help him, has to be a man who knows that what he gives to my teenagers and to me will be returned to him . . . and then some.
Rea Killeen teaches English in Hingham and lives with her three sons in Milton. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.
