Paul and Nancy were perhaps my mother and father's best friends when I was growing up. They went out to eat a lot...came over to our house a lot...and hosted us at their home a lot. And I remember my mother saying many times, "Poor Ole Nancy." You see, Paul and Nancy had six children, all boys. That was enough for Nancy to garner enough sympathy to last a life time.
They were all ball players and good athletes.
The oldest son was the best as my daddy said many times that he was one of the very best baseball players he ever coached and since he and I were once teammates I totally agree. The oldest son and I were pretty good friends for many years, though I lost contact with him years ago. He, being the oldest child rarely ever gave Paul and Nancy trouble but the other five...that's a different story.
They weren't bad kids, just a bit rambunctious and mischievous. They gave their mother fits to the point she wound up seeing a psychiatrist. And even though he tried, Paul couldn't discipline them enough to make a difference...thus, "Poor Ole Nancy." The stress wasn't all mental. Those boys were hard on the family financially. For example they would go through two pounds of bacon each morning for breakfast and put away two gallons of milk every day. "Poor Ole Paul."
Being an only son, I'm sure I gave my parents a lot of grief too but on a much smaller scale. After I was grown however, I remember both my parents proclaiming what a good kid I was. ( Little did they know.)
Raising children of any gender can be a big, big challenge for parents. But boys...they can be really tough to handle. For instance, when our daughter Christi was old enough to drive she would occasionally go out with some of her friends. She was always told to be home by 11 p.m. and just about every time, she would be home before 11. As she would be leaving, I would give her twenty dollars for spending money and she would always bring me change. Davey on the other hand was the polar opposite.
When I would offer him twenty bucks for spending money, he would always say, "I may need a little more." So, I would give in and hand him another twenty. I would rarely ever receive any change. And when 11 p.m. would roll around, he wouldn't be home yet. Around 11:15 he would call and tell us he was on his way. See the difference?
I've heard parents say girls were harder to raise and I've heard other parents say the boys were tougher. As for our own experience, both our kids turned out great and I'm not ready to say which was easier. But...looking back, "Poor Ole Nancy" never had a chance.
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