maybe to those of you who have boys this is nothing surprising or new. i guess i kind of always knew this was coming, but maybe have been blinded by my love for my baby boy to ever imagine he could ever really truly turn into a BOY. the wild, jumping off walls, shooting at everything moving, dirty, smelly thing that i always thought boys were. no, not my sweet little one, who smiles at me in the morning, giggles when tickled, and gently requests to be breastfed with a light tug on my shirt and a series of opening and closing his chubby little fist. not my boy who brushes his hair with mimi's hairbrush, the bristles facing outward so he's stroking his head with the back of the brush. not my boy who likes to put on mimi's pearl necklaces and headbands and giggles and grins sweetly. not my sweet angel who will happily hand over anything to me if i but say, "may i have it? thank you!" i only grew up with girls and appreciate the calm, gentleness of girls, and some how had it in my head that i would raise a semi-emasculated male in my home. one that never got dirty, rough, or wild. genteel, he would be. raised with good manners. calm. sweet. the kind of kid that probably got beat up in school by bullies. i would make him a complete mama's boy.
the day after we had his first birthday party, someone must have come thru my bedroom window and switched by sweet baby boy with someone else's crazy boy. this doppleganger in my home is not the baby boy i gave birth too.
how did it happen? how did a sweet baby turn into this...this...thing that is pure testosterone? in the span of just a few minutes, he took a toy golf club and slammed it repeatedly into the floor, smashing it hard into the floor GLEEFULLY. then he's off to JUMP on the furniture! then he grabs a cup and comes over to use it to bash me in the face repeatedly with great force, and would not stop no matter what i said or did, all the while laughing maniacally at me. finally i was forced to do a half-nelson on him and pry the cup out of his kung fu death grip while holding him at bay to circumvent massive head trauma to myself. then he's off to grab everything to violently shake it...he grabs anything, even things that easily eclipse his weight a hundred fold and will shake it around...his crib, a table, a tray...he grabs it and using his whole body, will shake the life out of it, his face breaking out in this wild look of pleasure and howling with pure joy. and as i lift away his struggling frame from wrecking a piece of my furniture, i can even feel a difference in his body...it's just a mass of wiry muscles going every which way.
my mother in law, who raised two boys, warned me. told me these stories about Rob that just made me shake my head, but in the back of my mind, i was all like, yeah, but i'll raise my boy differently. it's gotta be all about 'nuture'...right? i think i'm finding out just how much of this stuff is really ruled by nature. when his first spoken verb is "Go! Go! Go!" i guess that should have told me something, right there.
when i've recovered from the contusions my son beat into me, i'll post more. right now, he's tuckered himself out and is napping hard and i think i need a drink.
the day after we had his first birthday party, someone must have come thru my bedroom window and switched by sweet baby boy with someone else's crazy boy. this doppleganger in my home is not the baby boy i gave birth too.
how did it happen? how did a sweet baby turn into this...this...thing that is pure testosterone? in the span of just a few minutes, he took a toy golf club and slammed it repeatedly into the floor, smashing it hard into the floor GLEEFULLY. then he's off to JUMP on the furniture! then he grabs a cup and comes over to use it to bash me in the face repeatedly with great force, and would not stop no matter what i said or did, all the while laughing maniacally at me. finally i was forced to do a half-nelson on him and pry the cup out of his kung fu death grip while holding him at bay to circumvent massive head trauma to myself. then he's off to grab everything to violently shake it...he grabs anything, even things that easily eclipse his weight a hundred fold and will shake it around...his crib, a table, a tray...he grabs it and using his whole body, will shake the life out of it, his face breaking out in this wild look of pleasure and howling with pure joy. and as i lift away his struggling frame from wrecking a piece of my furniture, i can even feel a difference in his body...it's just a mass of wiry muscles going every which way.
my mother in law, who raised two boys, warned me. told me these stories about Rob that just made me shake my head, but in the back of my mind, i was all like, yeah, but i'll raise my boy differently. it's gotta be all about 'nuture'...right? i think i'm finding out just how much of this stuff is really ruled by nature. when his first spoken verb is "Go! Go! Go!" i guess that should have told me something, right there.
when i've recovered from the contusions my son beat into me, i'll post more. right now, he's tuckered himself out and is napping hard and i think i need a drink.
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