All boy and no cuddles make me a dull mama

I have a bone to pick with some of the people who gave me parental advice when I was expecting.

My husband and I wanted to be surprised as to our baby’s gender. I viewed it as one of the few remaining miracles of life, and wanted the nervous delight in speculating whether we would have a boy or a girl.

I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a boy — just a feeling I had.

“It’s fine,” they said. “Boys are easier anyway.”

False, I say.

My bouncing bundle of joy is every ounce of rough and tumble boy. He screams as he runs down the hallway; he tackles people, furniture and pets with gusto; he prefers the outdoors, dirt, sticks, snips, snails and puppy dog tails.

And, keeping with the macho male tradition, he does not have much use for cuddles with his mother.

I try to be a good sport and let him climb all over me. I try to play the shouting game with him and settle for tickle fight squeals over real hugs. But it’s just not the same as when you get a true bear hug from your toddler.

He is much more interested in helping his dad load tree branches into the wagon or dragging a shovel over to help plant my new rosebushes.

There is one true need my son has for me, however. It’s called the boo-boo.

Every rough tumble, scraped shin or pinched finger is my cue. My baby’s eyes fill with tears and the arms open wide and my place in his world is reaffirmed again. I give him a huge hug and whisper comforting things in his ear. I tell him everything will be all right and rock him back calm.

I dry his tears and wipe his nose and give him kisses on the cheek. And when I think he is ready, I gently lower him back down to stand on his own again. He looks at me, smiles broadly and gives a nice, big sigh.

And then he pivots and runs off to find his dad again.

— Sarah Leach is content editor at The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at (616) 546-4278 or sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com.