I'm the mom of a boy

I read a blog article this evening that highlighted some of the uniquely amazing horrible unique circumstances in which just about every mom of a boy will find herself.  I would like to think that we are a ways off from the circus ahead of us, but I’m not so sure that we are. In fact, I identified with everything on the list in one way or another, and my son is not even a full 9 months old yet.

Milton has, in nearly every way, challenged everything I thought I learned about raising babies from Emma’s babyhood. Despite their many similarities, he is her opposite.

Words to describe him include (but are not limited to): busy, wiggly, on-the-move, curious, adventurous, ambitious, clueless, snuggly, obsessed-with-his-mama, capable, adorable

This boy has managed to acquire more injuries in his 8 ½ months than Emma has in her entire 2 ½ years.

I kid you not.

I don’t even remember Emma’s first real injury, unless you count the times I attempted clipping her fingernails as a little infant. That was a bloody mess. Other than that? She tripped down the steps at our home when she was learning to walk. I think she scraped her forehead. She also likes to scratch her bug bites to the point of being gruesome, but I know that doesn’t count.

On the other hand, Milton likes to explore, and he is never content to accept his immediate environment. The interesting things of the world are never within his reach, therefore, he must always be on the hunt for something more. He climbs through it. Over it. Under it. Never around it. The majority of his cries are the result of some form of climbing (…he doesn’t understand what it is to be top-heavy and face-plants on the other side of whatever it is he attempts to climb), or some sort of standing (…he doesn’t understand that if he wants to remain upright, he must use his hands to hold himself in that position…letting go does not work, and elbows do not grip).

A few days ago I heard a gut-wrenching and violent Hurt Cry coming from another room.  I thought it was Emma, who manages to be extremely clumsy and bump into stuff all the time (see: Toddler). Alas, I found Milton in a position no 8 month old ought to be in (head on the ground with hiney and legs in the air). Emma was hugging his head and attempting to comfort him (I melt!). I pick him up to comfort his bruised head and ego and…

*GASP!*

So. much. blood.

It is apparent that he has busted his lip, but another source of knowledge in me knew to gently lift the lip and inspect the *frenulum for injury. Sure enough, he tore that sucker clean through.

(*not to be mistaken with the frenulum that apparently resides on a man’s genitals. I knew what it was called, but wanted to double check….Google gave me quite a fright. The same name should not be used to describe both body parts. But I digress.)

I wasn’t sure how to clean the blood from his mouth, and it was beginning to spread everywhere. And by that, I mean it was getting all over me. I tried dabbing his tongue with a wet cloth and accomplished nothing. His gaping mouth which was crying out in pain revealed blood basically pouring down his throat. In that moment I decided that if I could get him to nurse, we could wash the blood down and hopefully quiet him down in one fell swoop.

Miraculously, he thought that was an awesome plan.

It was a rough evening, but Tylenol and lots of nursing got us through it.

Since that time, he has managed to make his frenulum bleed again through yet ANOTHER face-plant, knock his head against every possible surface, and fall from every perch at which he can pull himself into a standing position.

He refuses to slow down though, and that’s what makes him my boy. He will grow into my little monster who brings worms into the house and tracks mud on my good rugs.

I’m terrified to be the mom of a boy, but I’m honored for the privilege and can’t wait to see what kind of trouble he'll be getting into! 

"On second thought, this curtain represents a horrible mistake... I need something more stable, or else I will most certainly fall. Mom, is that you? Hellllp!"