Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Snapshot: Day in the life with a two-year-old boy {Guest Post}

Welcome to my Perspectives Series. No, it neither has a fancy button nor a linky (only because I really haven’t thought this one through).  What it does contain is a guest blogger whose perspective differs from my own. While we share a passion for our families and for writing, our priorities, responsibilities and situations are not the same. And it’s the differences I’d like to highlight here because I believe if we made the conscious effort to understand those with dissimilar backgrounds, we can better bridge the gap and consequently form a tighter community. (I admit, it also appeals to my voyeuristic tendencies.)

Today, I am honored to have Allison share her account as a mom to an adorable little boy. Allison is a slightly OCD momma (apparently you do have to eat M&Ms in pairs of matching colors) who blogs over at Alli ‘n Son. She’s a wannabe photographer, gourmet chef and highly creative woman, all rolled into one.

Please help me welcome her – leave a comment and take some time to visit her site, where I’ll be a guest blogger, offering my own take as a mom to a daughter – and why I wish I had a boy instead!



Snapshot: Day in the life with a two-year-old boy
by Allison @ Alli-n-Son

I’m the mother of a two-year-old boy. Scratch that, I’m the exhausted, overwhelmed, constantly moving, cautioning and boo-boo kissing mother of a two-year-old boy. Yup, that sounds more accurate.
When I first found out that we were having a boy, I was floored. Not because I didn’t think it was possible, but because I had no idea with to do with a boy. I come from a family of three girls, hubby is an only child, and most of my extended family are made up of girls. I could handle “sugar and spice and all things nice” but “snips and snails and puppy dog tails”? HELP!


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As it turns out, I just kind of naturally fell into being the mother of a boy. I didn’t have any expectations, so I just kind of go with the flow. Change as he changes, find his interests and encourage them, whether that be arts and crafts or soccer and baseball. So far, it’s working pretty well, but it takes a lot of evaluating and compromise.

Take, for example, The Couch.


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The Couch is probably the kiddo’s most treasured toy. It serves as a cuddle zone, a trampoline, an egg (the kiddo pretends he’s a chicken and hatches out of pillows piled on top of him), a spring board, a reading nook, a crash pad…it goes on and on. I swear each day the kiddo comes up with some new way to play on it.

But it’s so much more than just a toy. It quintessentially represents what it means to be the mother of a boy. Because boys will try anything, anything, at least once. Actually, if he only tried it once, I’d be amazed. It doesn’t matter that the stunt of the moment could be dangerous. All that matters is that it’s fun, adventurous, and that there’s potential for trouble.

So of course, I find myself constantly weighing the risk for disaster against letting him explore and have fun. Hubby and I constantly disagree on this topic, but since I’m the stay-at-home parent, I get to call the shots most of time. Beside, how will he know if I let the kiddo stand on the couch while he’s at work? At least he’s not jumping on it.

And while he probably shouldn’t be climbing over the narrow space where the two couches touch, dangling carelessly three feet above the rug, at least he’s not trying to leap from couch to couch. So I let it go.
But when he’s laying on the back of the couch with the dogs, “sleeping”, it may seem innocent enough. Until that peaceful sleeping turns into rolling “out of bed” and over the back of the couch. Almost. I saw him just in time, and managed to stop the roll before it went too far. And that was the end of “sleeping” on the couch.

{For the record, hubby did warn that “sleeping” was not a such good idea, but I let the kiddo do it anyway. I guess sometimes I should listen to him. Just don’t tell him that I said that.}


Boys just don’t learn. I think they might be missing the fear sensor in their brains. Honestly, the kiddo will repeat the same daredevil stunts over and over, even if he gets hurt the first time. Or the 15th time. So I constantly have one eye on him at all times, giving stern looks of warning, springing into action at the nick of time, and generally weighing in on the possibility for disaster versus just letting him do what boys do best - testing boundaries, exploring, getting unbelievable dirty and enjoying life with an intensity unlike anything I’ve seen before. And thankfully, the occasional surprise hug that brings me to my knees with the emotion behind it.


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Someday I would love to have a daughter join our family, just to see what it’s like. Pony tails, skirts, shoes. But if by chance we are blessed with another son instead, I may have to invest in another pair of running shoes, just so I can keep up.




This is a Wordful Wednesday post.

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