They fly through the air with the greatest of ease- that daring young man on the flying trapeze.
Some people might think that old song is about a circus performer; those of us that have boys, know better.
Today I spent a good portion of my day running all over the house trying to keep my boys from killing themselves through a series of death defying feats and wrestling matches. Sure, head trauma SOUNDS like a great time, but its all well and fine until you get the hospital bill.
For the most part, I've grown accustomed to the many daring actions my sons have performed over the years. When I hear crying now, my response is usually, “Who did what?”, and I will rarely make my way to the scene of the crime, insisting that -unless legs have been broken or they have a sucking chest wound- they need to come to me because I wasn't the one who decided to jump off the top bunk; jump off the dresser; get their hand stuck in the crib bars; etc. I've gotten wiser in my old age- unless I'm looking to increase my activity level, running to them for every cry will do nothing except cause me to lose patience and breath.
Please don't take anything I say the wrong way; I actually LOVE having boys. Do you know how many parents take a CPR certification class and NEVER get the chance to perfect their skills? And I got to not only perform CPR, but the Heimlich as well- all in one week in my first 2 years as a mom! I have learned that most head wounds- though messy- are not always serious; I've also learned the different types of bugs that are okay to eat (FYI- pill bugs are perfectly safe and great “pre-munching” entertainment!).
Maybe I'm sick and twisted (very likely), but I find it amusing to watch the faces of new moms as they stare intently at their toddler boys at the park. They don't want to be “helicopter moms”, hovering closely and suffocating their sons' experiences, but fear keeps them from sitting down and relaxing. So, they stand there, rocking back and forth, waiting, ready to sprint like Superman the moment Jr. starts to take a tumble. The problem is, I learned long ago that you'll never reach them in time, and the fear on your face will cause them to scream bloody murder even if they aren't hurt. The best approach, I've found, is the “ignorance is bliss” approach. Its a kind of “If a child falls on the play ground, but no mommy is around to hear him scream, does he make a sound?” approach. Its all very Zen.
After having boys, I also don't worry about germs as much anymore. Sure, there are some instances where a good hand-washing is in order; and I will NEVER allow the 5 second rule at a truck stop; but I've seen Jacob crawl under chairs at a doctor's office and come out chewing on something- after that, you kind of stop worrying about keeping them “germ free”. When your child says, “Look what I found, Mom!” as they're leaving a park restroom -don't ask- the least of your worries should be shopping cart handles.
