Recently I’ve had some “moments-I-can’t-blog-about” occur with Dude #1.
I mean I could blog about them
this is my blog, kid, I can do what I want but, out of respect for myself and my family and mostly the future Google-ability of my Dude, I won’t.
It’s just some big kid type stuff you know.
Some turning-10-in-a-month-and-whoa-it’s-showing type stuff.
So I’m feeling conflicted about this space.
Because I’ve always felt like this blog is about
ME!ME!ME my journey through motherhood.
It’s not about them (although they show up in it frequently because they clearly have pretty much everything to do with me being a mom) per se, it’s pretty much just all about me, um, per se.
I want to be authentic and share with you guys the E-True Hollywood Story of Dude Mom Life, but
I’m saving the good stuff for my book you’ll have to experience some parts of this journey through the eyes of other moms.
Because I just can’t.
I mean I could if you wanted to pay $8.95 to read it (that’s the going rate for books these days, right?)
I’d totally sell this kid out for that, but under the current circumstance wherein I give up all this awesome free of charge, I’m going to have to work the vague and mysterious angle and just say, holy pre-teen-dom, Batman!
Believe me mama-younguns. This shiz is CA-RA-ZY!
And sadly I’m thinking we’re entering the period where this statement (submitted by the lovely Dude Mom at Mama Wants This!) just sorta isn’t the case…
I mean, it is because I simply refuse to live in a place where I’m not the queen.
But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to convince them that I need to be worshipped daily. With hugs. And kisses. And cupcakes and such.
So, Dude Moms, cherish the easy pudgy-baby-boy-hands filled days. Don’t yell when they jump or shout or actually attempt to fly around the living room.
Because even the really calm and quiet and extra well behaved Dudes bring you challenging growing-up-Dude days that just make you long for the hours of sirens and ninja kicks you desperately wished would stop.
I’m so not ready to be the mom of a Grown Up Dude.
Anyone want to trade? One sometimes perfect, sometimes surly nearly 10 year old for a fresh out of the womb baby?
Yes, I will take night feedings and poopy pants over minds of their own and mini rebellion.