For the first years of his life, my son was a Mama’s Boy. I don’t say this is a negative way, because I mostly quite liked him being a Mama’s Boy. I was the one that nursed him, that rocked him, that stayed home during the day to have adventures with him. I was the one that scooped him up and rubbed his back when he was tired or kissed him when he hurt himself. My husband is an excellent, and very active, Daddy but when it came down to it, Jackson always wanted Mama in times of uncertainty or trouble. I was the favorite.
But then he turned 5.
Friends, I’m not sure what happened this past winter when he blew out those 5 candles. All I do know is that something in his little boy brain switched from “Mama’s awesome” to “Daddy’s much more fun”. Since February 2015, I am no longer the favorite. Apparently Daddy is the main man now.
Now the afternoon is a countdown until when Daddy gets home from work. The evenings are full of playing games and having races with Daddy, building American Ninja Warrior style obstacle courses in my living room, and wrestling on the floor. While this is fun and all, I’m not quite sure where I fit in.
I’ve been working on finding my changing role in our family. I’m not needed as much as the comforter or reassure, but I’m too afraid of impending injury and/or death to participate in hiking too far off the trail. Sometimes I feel like a third wheel in this boys club.
I wish that I had worked through these issues and could wrap my learnings up in a nice, neat bow. But I can’t right now. I’m still walking that fine line of safety and excitement, good choices and spontaneity. It’s an adventure that I don’t have a map for, but I’m sure by the time I figure it out, everything will change anyway. I’m only sure of one thing – parenting is a much harder obstacle course to navigate than any American Ninja Warrior set up.
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