Have you ever went in for a tuck-in at night for your child and in return was put in a headlock? It’s amazing. There’s nothing better in life than feeling as if you are already dying from the day that never ended, including but not limited to: cleaning up your house, folding clothes, running the vacuum, going to 800 places to buy things that you don’t need, doing these while in a time crunch to be home by bus stop time, all the while holding a baby that is five months old, going on 10, by the weight he has packed on whom you wonder should be on a baby Mediterranean diet plan, to finally receiving the opportunity to lie down for 3 seconds and give another child a cuddle– and he tosses you to your back in a half nelson that you are left gasping and feeling unworthy that you just got your ass kicked by your eight-year-old son.
Raising boys—there ain’t nothing like it. I’ve always accounted myself to be more tomboy and less princess, but training for WWE at 9pm as an unexpected participant in not my happy place. But, should I embrace this? Should I chalk it up to raising boys?
Gone are the days where I can sit down and have any sort of tea party with my little princesses. Life has fully transitioned into any kind of ball flying pass my face and quite often hitting me square in the face from a family room pass that was not seen because why would we just keep the sports outside? Unless of course my 5-month old boy is into things likes shopping. It’s always a possibility, having that eight year gap between the baby boys and my youngest being into into a less “rough” lifestyle could only benefit me as my shopping buddy down the line for all of the things that I can’t afford to buy when all of the elder children have moved out to throw footballs in other peoples’ faces, or torture another individual about what outfit they should wear. Not it….well anymore.
I cannot pretend; however, that certain and actually most days, I embrace the crazy. I love getting scrappy with him. He is more fun to hang with at times more than any of my adult friends who can be too busy worrying about things that simply don’t matter. My son lives in the moment like everyone should really in which no one does.
The authentic character of a young boy is really one of a kind. As being no expert except for simply just having two daughters of my own, I’ve witnessed young girls who understand early the way to manipulate and cater situations into getting what they want. I have yet to really experience this with my son. There isn’t much reading between the lines, or reading in general because he could do without school, he says. (I agree).
You get what you get, or at least I do when I’m with him, and I appreciate that. There are plenty of times that I would love to put a variety of people in a headlock, but I don’t….but maybe that is why my son is so happy. Perhaps the key to happiness is living for then and not weighing the outcome of choking out someone, even if it is your mother.