Sunday, October 12, 2008

Mommas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys...

I've been trying to get my thoughts together with something compelling and inspirational to post. Wait... I've not really ever done that, exactly. Okay, perhaps something mildly interesting. I often compose posts while doing dishes (if I'm by myself). But lately, I've been too distracted with the gorgeous indian summer we're having and all the work therein. Also, all the work I don't want to be doing, like designing the pile-up of websites I have to be working on. But I'm not doing that, see "indian summer" above. See also, "guilt" and "lazyness".

So when I'm doing dishes, all I get are harpies and lunatics and schizoids in my head and the result is random and pointless and disjointed. Not worth posting. Kinda like this one that I'm writing.

I'm struck lately by how much testosterone is swirling around this house these days. My husband introduced our son to G.I. Joes today. I'm not sure if it was on Hulu or where he found it, but they watched an episode in all it's caroonish violence and die-hard heroism. Jonah is 3 1/2 and did I mention he's currently fascinated with guns and machines and even death? So just what he needs to be seeing is cartoon musclemen jumping out of crashing planes (they never die or get hurt) and shooting and punching each other. Grrrrrreat. And then there's all the backhoeing and dirt digging and hammering and nailing on the part of both my husband and my son. Oh, and guns. Don't forget the guns.

Don't get me wrong, I love it when my husband does all these manly things. So... manly, wheee! But what about my baby? My little, baby boy? Who's little. And a baby.

Well, he's not a baby. And getting bigger, fast. He's in the buisness of becoming a man, thus the guns and machines and digging.

I've been reading my brother's blog where he likes to talk about horsepower and crushing snakes with his boots and buzzing around on various machines and adventures in the jungle and such. And I realize-- this is where my "baby" is heading.

So, I'll buckle down and have fun with some boyhood. My Dad is so good at satisfying the need for danger by teaching how to be dangerous safely. We'll try to take that example and run with it. I'll just cover my eyes sometimes as a preventative to cardiac arrest.

Anyway, for now, my baby still likes to snuggle with his Mommy...

And to tell the truth, I want boys. Lots of them. Bring on the testosterone! And the digging! Plenty of digging!

But maybe someday I'll also have a little girl who wants to play dress-up and learn to sew.


  1. You sound like a female mother! Welcome to the world of mothering boys. Wait until he starts riding dirt bikes. Too fast. And hysterically laughing at things like farting and belching. It's stuff that we females don't understand, we just tolerate.



    Well, unless you have a bunch of Peters. Then it's okay. *snuggles*