Angela Mollard: Boys are gorgeous ... but boy mums are bonkers

As the mum of two girls, Angela Mollard always thought something weird happened to women when they lived in a house full of testicles. Then she took a trip to “Boy World”.

When I was a young journalist, an older female colleague wrote a piece about how much she adored her five-year-old son. For 2000 breathless words Jane extolled the virtues of her little boy — who looked cute enough, but no different to any other five-year-old.

Rufus, she told our readers, was adoring, loving, trusting, vulnerable yet full of fun.

At first glance I thought she was writing about her dog but no, this mother who also had two older daughters, was obsessed with her son.

In my mid-20s, and having grown up with two brothers, I thought she was bonkers.

Then I had a daughter. And another daughter. Before long I realised that boy mums were another species.

Hold onto those boys tight, Mum, while you can. Picture: iStock

They thought they were special, particularly when their toddler boys announced – and they all did – that they loved their mums more than the whole wide world and that they would marry her when they grew up. Bit Oedipal in my book, but the boy mums I knew loved it. Especially the ones who were fed up with their husbands.

None of us girl mums liked to point out that little Toby or Leo would eventually leave her for a hottie in micro shorts with excellent eyebrows.

Bizarrely a good number of my close friends are multiple boy mums. They have two, three and, in some cases, four boys, which you’d know instantly if you opened their fridge because of the six litres of milk and bulk packs of hamburger patties.

My friends are lovely but something happens to women when they live in a house full of testicles.

I’m not sure if it’s the long hours in emergency because one son has broken his arm again or because she’s constantly under the influence of Lynx fumes, but boy mums champion testosterone as if they personally invented it.

Victoria and David Beckham with sons (l to r) Cruz, Romeo and Brooklyn in 2012. Picture: Getty Images

Floating through motherhood like they’re the patron saint of Nerf guns, boy mums watch on gleefully as girl mums deal with the shouty, door-slamming stage. “Boys are less complicated,” they say as they joyfully scoop up another damp towel. “They’re so much easier than girls.”

Well, I have two words for you boy mums: Brooklyn Beckham.

Yes, the darling firstborn of Victoria and David has gone rogue. He’s effectively dumped his mum in favour of his wife.

That’s gotta hurt Victoria, who’s spent two decades posting pics of her sons orbiting her with the unblinking devotion of lads schooled that Mum was the main character.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that Brooklyn has chosen a wife who’s not a simpering bystander but a woman with Spice Girl-style chutzpah that matches his mum’s.

Recently I bumped into a 22-year-old boy I’ve known since our kids were at school together. He’s one of three boys, gay, but he hasn’t had a boyfriend yet. Apparently, his mum can’t stand his older brother’s girlfriend. “She’ll adore whoever you eventually bring home,” I said.

“I know,” he said gleefully.

I don’t like to generalise about gender, but let’s. Because with my kids now in their 20s I’m seeing a pattern. Girls ricochet – they’re close one minute and distant the next – while boys ebb away like an outgoing tide. Or, as one of the characters in The Otherhood movie says, “being the mother of a son is like someone breaking up with you really slowly”.

Victoria Beckham (centre) with Brooklyn and his wife, US actress Nicola Peltz Beckham. Picture: AFP

Perhaps the devotion of boy mums, captured in the TikTok hashtag #boymums and by comedian Jen Brister – “no darling, you don’t do anything because mummy will do it for you” – is biological.

Apparently, orcas, or killer whales, favour their sons and make a “lifelong sacrifice” for them. While the creatures can happily birth a female and let her float around in the ocean, their male offspring are so dependent they significantly reduce the mother’s chance of having further calves.

Anyway, I have to admit something that slightly pains me. Last weekend I was submerged in Boy World.

My partner’s son was getting married and I found myself ironing shirts and rustling up food for him and four groomsmen (we were also looking after another son’s 20-month-old boy). It was like being drafted onto the set of The Hangover as these lads debated suit choice, collar stiffeners and whether the ironing board was a smart place to polish their shoes.

The toddler, meanwhile, was having a lovely time with his own willy when we found ourselves without a spare nappy. Somewhere in the middle of this testosterone chaos I had a revelation: Boys are adorable and their humour and gratitude and sweet-eyed smiles make you want to mother them forevermore.

And so an apology to all you boy mums.

I see why Italian mamas want to keep their sons at home well into their 30s, and I see why my former colleague was obsessed with her five-year-old.

Funnily enough, she wrote a piece 15 years later of driving 300km to clean up his university flat after spotting a dead mouse next to one of his trainers in a photo he posted.

Bonkers. But I get it.

ANGE’S A-LIST

Bone Appetit

A friend recently served up Recipe Tin Eats’ slow-cooked beef ribs in Korean BBQ sauce and it’s the yummiest thing I’ve eaten in months. I’ve now made it myself and the umami flavoured fall-apart meat is perfect for these chilly evenings.

Snuggle Squad

I’ve only kept a few of my kids’ childhood soft toys and one is a Flatout Bear. The Australian company has been producing these gorgeous comforters and sleep companions for more than 20 years and they never lose their appeal. Sweet and sustainable.

Originally published as Angela Mollard: Boys are gorgeous ... but boy mums are bonkers