Today’s mom tip is gonna be short, but it’s also the most meaningful, important, and far reaching tip I’ll ever give you: Love your babies. Love ‘em good, love ‘em hard, and love ‘em long time.
For the obvious reasons of course: they are precious, they are worth it, they are the embodiment of all things beautiful, other-flowery-declarations-you-never-have-and-probably-never-will-hear-come-from-this-Dumb-Mom.
But, there is a much more basic reason too: because it won’t last.
Not you in your youngish, new momish, spryish, quick-witted-and-arguably-cool form.
And definitely not them.
Before you know it they will be asking you to buy them skinny jeans, and putting girls on their birthday party guest list.
Girls they are rumored to be holding hands with on the playground. (Totally crossed out because Dumb Mom is in denial.)
And you will wonder how, in the name of all that is holy, did you become the still pretty awesome and not at all old or boring or dorky or out of the loop mom to a pre-tween?
Pre-tweendom is a place not oft discussed by people, but let me tell you, it is a distinct phase boys (and girls?) go through during which they determine that they may in fact care, just a little bit, about combing their hair everyday (although showering is still not a necessity) and having a one-strap back pack.
It is also a time when they are not quite as interested in action figures and castles and fire truck engines as they are in video games and movies and chapter books that they read without you in their beds. It’s a time when playing with their younger brother is fine as long as there is no other, cooler option; and holding mom’s hand in public is NEVER, EVER gonna happen.
On a positive note, I have noticed recently that, possibly to make up for his desire to do his own thing, Dude #1 has gotten more affectionate towards me.
Maybe it’s his way of holding on to his babyhood? I’m totally fine with getting extra hugs (in the house only, as he won’t even walk next to me at school), because I know that soon, he will probably be more interested in hugging some skinny little thing in inappropriately short shorts.
I will be sad when that happens.
But happy too.
No, actually I won’t be happy with that development at all; but I will accept it.
Just like I’ve accepted his decision to wear skinny jeans, collect silly bandz he’s entirely too cool to actually wear, and watch some of the most ridiculous shows on the planet. You know, those ones that can easily be found every afternoon on the Disney channel and Nick (seriously, have you seen the one with the black kid and the white kid who are fraternal twin brothers named kings of a jungle? Well, don’t bother because it really is as bad as it sounds, or maybe worse.)?
The ones that make you long for those corny after school specials about the creepy neighbor who comes over when you’re mom is at work and tells you’re pretty, and that you smell like cinnamon, and then tries to touch you in your bathing suit area?
Yeah, I miss those. I mean at least they had a lesson, even if it was one every half-wit 13 year old girl should know.
Being reminded why 75 year old Mr. Jeffers from up the road should never be let inside your bedroom was a service. A service not provided by the multiracial bumbling child tribe leaders.
Point is, the kid is changing, right along with the world and I guess I’d better get my mind ready for it.
As should you.
So, as I sit here, the proud mama of the handsomest, nicest, most well behaved pre-tween boy on the planet while he celebrates his 9th birthday by taking a group of girls to see Harry Potter, take my advice: Love your kids, focus on the moment, don’t lose your stew when they wipe their snotty noses on your knee cap, and try to remember it all.
They won’t be this way forever, no matter how hard you wish it…