Dreaming of Daughters
“There’s this boy
He stole my heart
He calls me Mom.” -Unknown
When I was twenty weeks pregnant with my second child, I went in for my gender revealing ultrasound, hoping for another hamburger. My doctor described her interpretation of ultrasounds as a hamburger for a girl and a hot dog for a boy. I was crestfallen when she confirmed I was having a boy. I may have even cried a bit, though pretty much anything made me cry when I was pregnant. (ie. hamburger ultrasound)
I know we’ve all heard that “we don’t care as long as the baby is healthy” crap but I wanted a girl. My daughter was already two and a half and I wanted a sister for her. I grew up an only child with a single mother. Not too many men in my life until I met my husband. What the heck was I going to do with a boy?! I had horrifying visions of blankets so crusty you could snap them in half (according to Tina Fey.) I was terrified of my reckless son making me a grandmother at the tender age of forty five. But the years flew by, as they tend to do, and this boy has completely stolen my heart. He taught me so many lessons, bringing more tears along the way, but mostly from laughter. He showed me that men truly are from Jupiter. They are wired completely different from us. The way their minds work (or don’t sometimes) have me shaking my head in wonder.
In the first grade, my son was suspended for bringing a knife to school. His big sister had a Swiss Army knife we brought on our camping trips for whittling. He was playing with it in our backyard one afternoon and left it in his jacket pocket. The next week during recess, when he felt it in there, his first instinct was to show it off to his friends. In this day and age, with constant school shootings, educators don’t take weapons in school lightly so my son was suspended for five days! If my daughter found a forgotten knife in her coat on the playground, she would have wisely returned it back home without anyone ever knowing about her mistake. Common sense has never come easily to my son. Though we did name him after an Irish whiskey so I guess we were asking for trouble there.
When he was three, Jameson was convinced that his testicles were dragon eggs! I remember him feeling around down there once then suddenly stopping startled. I asked him, “What’s the matter?” He responded, “One of my dragon eggs is gone! I used to have three!” And boys with the penis, fart and butt cheek obsessions! I told him to get his hands out of his pants during snuggle a few nights ago and he told me that sliding down the shag carpet stairs on his belly had disturbed his penis “shifting it into third gear.” Where he’s getting this “third gear” thing from, I have no idea since my husband and I both drive automatic transmissions.
Several weeks into second grade, I was called to the principal’s office because my son had threatened to stab a little girl with a pencil. With the pocket knife suspension still fresh on my Mother of the Year checklist, I was beginning to wonder what king of monster I was raising? Getting the whole story from my son changed my perspective. Once again, he was on recess. Apparently, the playground at his elementary school will continue to be the setting for my parenting downfalls. He had gotten his pants wet sitting on some damp grass and this little twit was running around telling all the other kids, “Jameson peed his pants! Jameson peed his pants!” Instead of asking a teacher for help, after repeatedly asking the girl/nemesis to stop, he threatened to stab her with his pencil if she wouldn’t stop embarrassing him. The most logical step in his young illogical mind obviously. Then when the classmate ratted him out for the threat, he didn’t tell anyone about her teasing because he was mortified and he didn’t want anyone to think he was making excuses. My daughter, on the other hand, would have sought a teacher for the help she needed. She would never threaten violence, easily keeping herself out of trouble. Jameson has to learn every lesson the hard way.
My daughter has never been a princess. She recently cut all her hair short because she couldn’t be bothered to brush it. Thankfully, I’ve only seen Frozen once because damsels and Prince Charming just aren’t her bag. She’s a total tomboy just like her Mom so I don’t know why having a little boy ever filled me with such trepidation. In hindsight, which is always 20/20, I had been “raising” my husband for at least ten years before our son came along. I had nothing to fear. After seven plus years with this little guy tugging my apron strings, I’ve fallen pretty hard. I won’t ever say he’s my favorite :), but he’s definitely my favorite son.
