spider

ParenthoodPopular PostsPregnancyStuffThe Story

So you’re going to be a Boy Mom…

by Jill
written by Jill

I know that feeling, that excited but scared shitless feeling when the ultrasound tech tells you they see that extra bit of anatomy. “It’s a boy!” Your heart stops for a moment.

“But what will I do with a BOY?” you think to yourself, never daring to utter the thought out loud because, well, you *are* ultimately happy that it’s healthy… but… but… you don’t know how to raise a BOY.

You’re going to be a Boy Mom, and you’re going to be okay. In fact, you’re going to be great. You’ll love it so much that you’ll never be able to imagine NOT being a Boy Mom. It doesn’t matter that you LOVE being a girl, that you embrace every opportunity you get to dress up, do your makeup, get your nails done. It doesn’t matter that you much prefer shopping for shoes to browsing the sports store. Your love for all things zebra print, pink and soft does not mean you can’t and wont develop a love for “little man” clothes, toy trucks and OshKosh overalls paired with a toothy grin and muddy knees.

Being a Boy Mom means slobbery kisses and hugs that start with a running leap.

Being a Boy Mom means saving hundreds on clothes, even if only to spend that amount or more later in life on ER visits.

Being a Boy Mom means developing a keen eye for bugs and coming to terms with the fact that sometimes they can just be considered an extra helping of protein.

Being a Boy Mom doesn’t mean you won’t continue to be squeemish about things like spiders, it just means your squeels will be entertaining to the boy who taunts you by trying to eat one.

Being a Boy Mom means being the builder of block towers so big they lean and topple, leaving you both in stitches.

Being a Boy Mom means developing a very watchful eye while changing diapers, always on the lookout for that surprise pee stream attack.

Being a Boy Mom means having the pleasure of watching your son learn from his father, and then reminding his father that at a certain age they will start to repeat the F word, even if that F word is shouted at a TV during a sporting event.

Being a Boy Mom means you’ve been given the tremendous opportunity and challenge to raise someone who will grow up to be a respectful, loving and kind man. He may break hearts, but hopefully, with your guidance, he will do so gently, and ultimately he will make some lucky partner very, very happy.

Being a Boy Mom may mean giving up the fantasy of getting your nails done together after a frilly tea party, but it’s replaced by so many fun future memories that you can’t even begin to think up because right now you just don’t know what to do with a boy.

Don’t worry… it will come to you.

This was inspired by my reaction to learning that one of my best friends is having a baby boy. Immediately after she told me the news I teared up and replied, “You are going to LOVE IT! Boys love their mommas SO much!!” I was truly so happy for her, and I had to smile when her response was, “Really??” I so remember that feeling.  For some of us girls it’s a little scary venturing into the world of boys, but we just haven’t experienced just how wonderful it can be yet. I know she’s going to be an excellent Boy Mom, and I can’t wait to meet the little guy.

I’ve been a Boy Mom to Kendall for nearly 20 months

And I’d love to hear what being a Boy Mom or a Girl Mom means for you…

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BabiesThe Story

Mmmm..Crunchy!

by Jill
written by Jill

Kendall’s oral exploratory phase is in high gear.  There is no piece of dirt or debris safe from his chubby fingers and 7 teeth.  The top rails of his crib look like a wild animal attacked it, and I find him after every nap with a ring of wood stain and polyurethane chips around his mouth.  Fabulous.

This also coincides with what seems to be the beginning of defiance and boundary pushing.  I am fairly certain he can distinguish the word no, and I’m pretty sure he understands it.  I told myself months back I would not abuse the “NO” because I was worried it would loose effectiveness.  Of course, I made that silly little promise to myself before Kendall started doing things like pulling the Internet cable out of the wall, attempting to scale the blinds, and crawling as quickly away from me as possible straight for the bowl of dog water.  There I am right behind him, sprinting across the room to intercept, escalating the “no” as I get closer.  “No, honey.  NooOO.  NOOO. NO.  NO,NO,NO,No.  NO.”  I wag my finger like an old lady.  He looks over his shoulder, giggles with glee, then turns on the baby burners and books it.  So cute that he thinks his newly perfected crawl can out pace me.  He’s always surprised when I catch him, and then, of course, he tries the exact same thing again minutes later.

So today’s funny story is this.  I’m working at my desk, he is maybe 6 feet away and quietly playing.  This is my first sign something is wrong.  My son does not get quiet unless he is plotting or investigating.  He never quietly investigates the safe and healthy toys I provide.  It’s always something he’s not supposed to have.  I look up and we make eye contact.  He smiles and slowly pulls his hand up to his face, as if to taunt me.  I know what comes next, though I can’t really make out just what is going to meet it’s demise in his slobbery chompers.

I stand up and begin the series of “No”.  With each one he dramatically brings his hands closer to his face.  Half way there I get a good look at what is in his hand.  OMG.  It’s a dead spider.  “NOOOOOO!!!  Ewww!!  NO.  NO, NO, NO, NO.  Ewwwwww!!! Kendall, NO.”  The closer I get the quicker he moves.  In a matter of a second my brain is thinking “Grosss!!!  OMG.  DON’T let him eat that.  But Ewww!! You have to touch a dead SPIDER!  Quickly,  just fling it out of his hands.  HURRY.  OMG.  Boys are so gross.”

This reaction is apparently very entertaining to an 8 month old (and to think, I was JUST blogging about watching my reactions around him).  He was laughing hysterically at me by the time I grabbed his chubby little hand and flicked the icky spider out of it.  Blech…it makes me shudder just to think of him chomping down on it.  I’m pretty sure he got a leg or two.  I’m not bothered by the occasional leaf that makes it into his digestive system, but a spider is so….ewww!!!

Kendall is 8 months and 5 days old

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