The Defection of Mama’s Boy

It’s a truism of parenting that no two children can be treated the same. But what’s equally true, but not thrown around so freely, is that no parent is the same from one child to the next.

I think it’s been well established that Nicholas is a mama’s boy. But something strange is happening in our world, something not altogether welcome. He’s starting to react better toDaddy than toMommy.

Now, contrary to what you might think, the “not altogether welcome” part of this has nothing to do with the loss of my baby. No, the problem is that he still wants me—badly—but he won’t do anything I ask him to do. As has also been pretty well established (here and here, among seven or eight other posts), Nicholas is my first typical two-year-old. And being a mama’s boy, his primary power struggles are with me. Not that Christian doesn’t get some of them—he does—but Nicholas reacts better to him.

Case in point: this post. You know, the “Motherhood Ain’t Pretty” post. It happens at meals, too. Nicholas hasn’t liked anything I’ve made for dinner for two weeks. Now, he eats like a bear at lunchtime, so most of the time I don’t get very excited about it if he just doesn’t eat much at dinner. I’m not giving him an alternative menu, but I’m not going to make it a battle, either.

But then we get to the part that he really does want to eat: crackers or dessert. Julianna cries out for a cracker, Nicholas cries out for a cracker (or ice cream, or cookies, or whatever). The difference is that Julianna has three bites left to eat before she can have the treat, while Nicholas has…his whole meal. Battle lines drawn.

Will he eat it for me? If I feed it to him. If I have him sit on my lap. Maybe.

But when Christian sits down with him, abra cadabra, he eats.

I’ve been trying to observe how Christian handles things differently. And I know, too, that Nicholas’s behavior with me reflects not just mealtime but the whole package: how I react when he’s yanking on my mouse arm while I’m working (which makes me question whether I should be working, even though I know I have to); how much time I do or don’t interact with him. This week has been better than most, because I have been off the computer every morning: library, field trip, buying bedding flowers, hauling compost, etc. Which nudges me that I’m out of balance, and need to address it.

But it also reminds me that I’m a different parent than I was when Alex was this age. When Alex was this age, I had only begun writing, and wasn’t really making any money at it. When Alex was this age, my #1 concern was Julianna, who had been near death already and was staring down the barrel of heart surgery. Our lives were a procession of therapy visits and trips to doctors’ offices. When Julianna was this age, I had a brand new baby, and was nursing my way through therapy visits. Now, I’m a work-at-home mom, meeting deadlines and scrounging up new projects to contribute to the family income—a role I find fulfilling, though challenging.

Two little eyes looking over the edge of the computer desk, and footsteps padding down the stairs…organized or not, well-unified or not, this post is done. Time to go be a mom.