Being a mama is a wild and weird adventure where you always feel out of your depth and often like someone is playing a massive joke on you. You say, clean up, and think things that you never thought you would. Ever.
I am a mama to one boy. We had plans for more but it didn’t work out the way we imagined (life right?). I always assumed I’d have girls. I only really spent time around girls growing up. It was my comfort zone. Suddenly, I’m a mama to a baby boy (who’s now 4 but will always be my baby) and I love it. Most of it. Being a mama is hard freakin work, it’s terrifying and it’s beautiful and it’s never boring.
Here’s what I’ve learned from being a mum to TD (Tiny Dictator).
- He is already his own person. I marvel at this being that I produced and often think, ‘Where the hell did you come from?’. He’s at times a bit of me and a bit of husband and an bit of our families and relatives but really he is just completely his own. And it is weird. And wonderful.
- He likes to build and draw and paint and explore and cuddle and move and dance and sing and ‘vrooom’ cars and make big loud noises (But dislikes big, loud noises). He’s bonkers. And brilliant.
- He’s a pain in the ass. And the worst part is that you can’t stay mad. He’s a manipulative genius.
- He loves pink. And purple. And blue and green and all the colours. ‘All the colours are my favourite mummy.’ Too right babe. Why stick to just one? Boring.
- He notices everything. Especially the things you don’t want him to see. He is at expert level when it comes to noticing something. Hidden treats, rogue chin hairs, new clothes…the word no (yes…he can read one word and it’s ‘no’. Go figure) . He also notices the beautiful things. Every butterfly, every rainbow, every plane, train and automobile. He reminds me to notice.
- He remembers everything. Everything. Every. Damn. Thing. Don’t tell him something as an off-hand comment just to get him off your back and then assume he has forgotten. He has not.
- He is funny as fuck. Like hilarious. Laugh out loud funny. I don’t even know where he gets half his material from.
- He is way cooler than me. Not that it’s hard.
- He loves his ‘wee man’. He developed a love very early on when he accidentally caught hold of it while flailing his arms about. It was like, ‘Oh…hello there. You are my favourite and my best thing ever.’ I never thought I would use the word penis (or all it’s many variations) so much in my life. Usually around touching, stretching, flicking, showing, swinging.
- He burns about 8000 calories a day. He rarely stops. Even when he’s sitting still he’s not actually still. Even when he’s sleeping he produces enough heat to warm a small arctic country.
- He lives in the now. He is present always. He notices details we adults don’t see anymore and he is in wonder of them all.
- He can not shut up. He is my son though. And he is an only child. Actually this may be my fault completely.
- He loves ‘boys things’. How did this happen? I really tried to do the unisex clothes and the unisex toys and the unisex books. But still he wants cars and trains and superheroes and he wants to wrestle and play fight and be a ninja.
- He’s soft and kind and empathetic and snuggly and I will nurture that side of him until I die.
- He’s brave. He’s okay being vulnerable. It’s pretty amazing what he’ll push himself to do that many adults would shy away from. Meeting new people, trying new things, messing up, losing at games? No biggie.
- He eats, farts and shits like a man. His digestive system has developed way faster than the rest of him.
- He’s a stubborn mofo. I suspect this may also be my fault. But still! How do you learn that kind of confidence at such a young age? I know you want your children to be all confident and headstrong and shit…just…not when you are parenting them and especially not when you are still wiping their asses.
- The love is real and it is beyond comprehension.
- I know nothing at all.