Welcome to my world of #boymom life where boo-boo’s are a regular occurrence, band-aids are the devil, and fear doesn’t exist inside my son.
I adore the fact that my child doesn’t have fear but my nerves and heart do not.
I love it because I miss those days for myself of not being afraid of anything and taking all the risks without any fear behind them. It allows kids to try so many things and experience life! Now I worry about what kind of pain I’ll be in the next few days if I choose to do something.
We joke that my son is a walking accident.
It’s not much of a joke when he truly does have scrapped knees, a busted lip or some other cut or bruise from his own actions on a regular basis.
Do not go calling the child services on me.
He is always barefoot, wanting to be “ahht-side,” playing in the dirt or mud, and always playing rough.
We allow him to take the risks he chooses, with watchful eyes. But if you’re a boy mom, you know damn well that those eyes and hands can be on them at all times, and they will still injure themselves.
It’s part of who they are!
He took a spill last Thanksgiving on concrete steps, while my husband was holding his hand, and has a tiny scar from his teeth busting through his lip. That’s our best example of holding his hand and an accident still happening. BOYS!
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t want him having scars or bruises, but I also do not want to hold him back and make him afraid of anything.
Any fall he has we both are quick to tell him, “Brush it off!” and he is so good about it. It really is how you react to their situation on how they then react themselves.
This is a judgement call of knowing just how bad the situation is. If it is bad enough, mom is always there to scoop him up and hold him tight to make it better. Don’t worry, I definitely love on that little one all I can!
There’s other times he wants to jump on top of me at any given moment as if we’re in the WWE ring.
I’ll be minding my own business and he attacks me from behind screaming, “GOT YOU!” This will be interesting as he grows and gets bigger.
He will climb to the top of the couch while I’m laying on it and slide down onto me with, “yaaaah!” And other times while horsing around on the couch he’ll tumble right off of it onto the floor but hop right back up on to it again.
And my personal favorite, he will grab a bucket that fits his melon head and pull it down once he acknowledges his target and walk right into things to then pick it up and laugh.
What my point is here today is that boys always equal boo-boos. If you have a little girl who fits this mold, high five her for me!
That was me as a kid. 😊 I’m obviously only telling stories about my boy because that’s the child I have.
With every boo-boo he gets, it becomes show and tell. The pride of his fearless attitude shows.
If you’re a stranger in the store and you say Hi to him, “wook, boo-boo”
It doesn’t matter how long those last, he loves to show them to us and let us know he had something happen.
They’re a trophy and I assume this “stage” will last a while in a boy’s world.
I don’t want that to fade, the fearlessness in his soul.
When it comes to dangerous things as he gets older, I may throw back a strong shot of whiskey to ease my nerves, but I hope he doesn’t hold himself back.
Part of being a boy and having all those boo-boos is experiencing life with the fun that surrounds the boo-boos you get.
Let’s see if I can keep up with him and try things again with him. 😉