Momma's boys and Daddy's girls. At our house there's a Momma's boy and a Daddy's boy. Please do not misunderstand that last statement to mean that we play favorites among our boys. Despite having been accused over the years of "painfully apparent" favoritism, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it is the boys who seem to have chosen the preferences.
Our younger son is Daddy's boy, through and through. Way back in the day, when our son was quite young and my husband was taking evening classes, I would get home from work in just enough time for him to hand off the parental baton with a smooch and a "see ya later" as he rushed out the door to get to class. As the door closed behind him, I was left holding a screaming, inconsolable child. I would listen to him wail "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYY!!" between shaky gasps for air while fat tears of sheer rejection rolled down his red cheeks. This would go on for hours, until he finally cried himself to sleep. Never mind that Mommy was home. Remember Mommy? The woman who carried you for 9 months while you leached the potassium out of her to the point of debilitating leg cramps? The woman who nearly split in half bringing you into this world? The woman who nursed and cuddled you? The woman who loves and dotes on you with all of her being? Remember her? Apparently not, because the banshee screech leaving this child's lungs indicated that his father had just left him with a complete stranger who was now sticking red hot needles under his finger nails.
Our son will turn 11 this week, and his preferences do not seem to have been the least bit affected by the passage of years. For a while, if he came out of his room in the morning to find me at the table, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Daddy?" I'd say, "Good morning, James." To which he would respond, "Good morning. Where's Daddy?" To this day, given the choice to drive somewhere with Dad or with Mom, he will choose Dad every time.
Now to be fair, I do believe my son loves me, too ~ when Daddy's not available.
Our older son is Momma's boy to the core ~ which I will NEVER understand. During his bonding years I was suicidally depressed and not a pleasant person. How he attached himself to me is anyone's guess. But somehow (by the grace of God, perhaps) he managed to bond to me much faster than I was able to bond to him. Combine this distancing of myself during his early years with the fact that our relationship during his early childhood was heated and confrontational and we have got quite the conundrum happening here. Yet, here we are, me and my boy.
As a young child, our oldest always needed to know where I was. If he had not noticed when I walked out of a room, his immediate reaction to the realization was, "Where's Mom?" Even now, as a teen, if he knows I am home but I am not immediately visible he asks, "Where's Mom?" When I worked 2 jobs, he would ask almost every morning, "Mom, where are working today?" My schedule had not changed in 2 years, I worked at the same location on a given day of the week with few exception, but he always needed to ask.
Now, as a teenager, our oldest continues to be concerned for me. A few years ago, after having abdominal surgery, as I was shuffling down my hall, achy and still a little groggy from anesthesia, my oldest asked if there was anything he could do for me. He was my work horse the summer I separated my shoulder, and even when I felt strong enough to grocery shop alone he wanted me to wait until he could come with me. Even in the every day routine of life, he will express concern. "Why are you limping, Mom? Your foot still hurting?" "You're rubbing you're head, Mom. Headache?"
Considering that I am the mother of a teen-aged boy, I am often surprised by how willing he is to talk to me about the important stuff of life. I will never forget the day he asked my flat-out about birth control. Then there was the conversation about the pregnant girls in his middle-school (yikes!). Admittedly, I had to question why I was the one to explain the differences in auto engine sizes and why putting a 4-cylinder engine in a Mustang should be illegal, but we had that conversation, too. Now he comes to me with concerns about his girlfriend, the sisters of his heart (he's got a few of those), college, and the future.
Though it may seem that I favor one child over the other, I can honestly say that I try very hard not to do so. I very much love and adore both of boyz. Yet, I also understand that personality traits, interests, thought processes, and other factors play a large role in who gets along best with whom, and will continue to try to not take it personally if one prefers Daddy.
