Another Sick Day

My son is curled up on the couch, pretending to nurse his baby doll.  Every once in a while, he strokes her head or kisses her.  He's wearing Cars pajamas and has a purple bow in his hair.  He stole it from the bathroom drawer and asked me to put it in his hair.  He smiles at me, but I can tell he's not feeling well.  His right eye is stained crimson from a ruptured capillary and his temperature occasionally spikes as high as 103.  He's having chills, but he is still cuddling his baby doll.  He won't let me touch him.  I know his skin is hypersensitive because of the fever, so I let him decide when he wants contact.

Meanwhile, my daughter is content in her bouncy seat.  She bats at a dangling toucan and giggles at her reflection in the mirror.  She wears a football-themed sleeper, but her features are undeniably feminine.  I usually dress her in her brother's old clothes and leave her peach fuzz hair unadorned, but no one has ever tried to call her a boy unless her face isn't showing.  Right now, she is happy and healthy and I hope my milk is protecting her from this flu.  I tried to give her brother some in a sippy, but he will only drink it if he is desperately thirsty.  I think it's a little strange considering he only weaned three months ago, at the age of twenty-three months.

I spend today in a state of waiting.  Waiting for my son to start feeling better.  Waiting to call the collision shop so I can get the car repaired (I backed into my neighbor's car in November after she parked it too close to the end of our driveway in a blind spot), waiting for my friend to come over so I can help feed another baby.  I have 257oz of milk in my freezer for her.  My little girl has helped me donate 400oz so far and she's only eleven weeks old.  When I'm feeling down about not being able to fit in my clothes or my itchy stretch marks, I remember that and it makes me feel a bit lighter.  So what if my body isn't perfect when it can do such amazing things?  It can grow, birth, and feed babies.  It can snuggle them when they are sick.  It can chase them when they try to run away at the park.  It can hug them when they need reassurance.

My son's fever has broken again and he's now in the corner playing with his cars.  He is both nurturing and traditionally boyish.  I encourage him to express his interests, just as I will encourage my daughter when she is old enough to be interested in things other than faces.  If they want to dance, they can dance.  If they want be singers, or physicists, or doctors, that is fine.  I don't care if they want to wear pants or dresses, or if the people they love end up being men, women, or somewhere in between.  They never have to hide because they will grow up knowing I'll love them no matter who they are.

I Bought My Son a Baby Doll

My one year old loves babies.  He loves to say "baby", he loves to look at babies, even pictures of babies, and he loves to play with babies.  Lately he has been "borrowing" dolls from a couple of his playmates.  He was playing with one yesterday at a playgroup and was talking as he examined the hands of the doll.  One of the other moms I was with realized what he was saying -- "fingers."  When the doll's owner took it back, my son crawled over to a younger baby, patted him on the head, and said "good baby".

I decided to take him to the toy store after my yoga class this morning.  I have to say it is very difficult to find an appropriate doll for a one year old boy.  I had a whole list of mental criteria -- no small parts like removable shoes, no bottles, soft body, not too feminine, no batteries, identifiable body parts (fingers, toes) for teaching.  I was looking for a boy doll, but the only one they had was way too big for a toddler to carry around.  I wanted to find him something fairly small and cuddly, but it still had to look like a baby.

There were lots of dolls and lots of pink.  Lots of names like "Little Mommy", and every doll was geared exclusively toward little girls.  Boys had action figures, guns.  All hard plastic and nothing soft.  Rowan loves soft stuffed animals, but animals aren't very good for teaching a toddler about human toes and noses and shoulders.  He ended up picking out his own doll, a little baby doll wrapped in a blue blanket.  It has a soft body and molded limbs and head, and Rowan's eyes lit up excitedly when he saw it.  It is a girl baby, and I didn't realize it was dressed mostly in pink until we got home.  That's all right.  He might have a little sister someday anyways.  He is curled up on the floor sleeping with his new friend right now.  A quilt of NFL team fabric is keeping them warm.

It perplexes me that so many parents wouldn't allow their little boys to play with "girl" toys like dolls, kitchens, and crafts.  I want my son to know how to mend torn clothes.  I want him to be able to prepare a tasty meal.  I want him to be nurturing and know how to handle babies.  He'll be a big brother eventually, after all.  He is a very rough and tumble little guy, so learning how to be calm and gentle with a little baby is a necessity.  I'm currently trying to teach him not to hit babies or poke their faces, and since we aren't around babies more than a couple times a week, a doll is becoming the stand-in for a real baby.

I think some of the things "girl" toys can teach are basic life skills -- cooking, mending, household chores, child care.  Why are those things marketed as gender-specific.  If we eventually have a girl, I won't think anything of her wearing her brother's blue hand-me-downs, playing with trucks, and participating in sports.  We draw the line at guns for both genders, since I won't let my children play with inherently violent toys.  I want him to play house because he will eventually be living in a house or apartment of his own.  I want him to play with stuffed animals and dolls because he might decide to have a pet or have children.  I'm going to teach him how to sew and cook because his grandmother never taught her boys such things and so they never learned.  It gets a little frustrating for me that my husband cannot even prepare a simple meal or sew on a button, especially if I am sick in bed and those things need to be done.

Our society is still so hung-up on gender roles that often people can't see the incredible merit of treating all toys as gender-neutral.  I am not turning my little guy into a sissy.  I am giving him another opportunity to learn, an opportunity for imaginative play and mental growth.  He is learning about communication and responsibility.  He is learning not to hit people with plastic bats or drumsticks.  There are appropriate toys to hit with those objects, but a baby doll isn't one of them.  He is learning how to be a big brother before he becomes one, and hopefully that eventually translates into him being a respectful adult, one who doesn't expect his partner to do all the chores, one who cleans up after himself and is gentle with other human beings and animals.

It is a very long process to instill such traits in a child, but children learn best through play.  If they are allowed to play with a variety of toys, it helps prepare them for the rest of their lives while still allowing them to be children.  I don't want my son to act like an adult just because he has a doll, a set of megablocks, and a drum.  I just want him to learn and grow and explore the world so that in seventeen years, he will be slowly transformed into a responsible young adult.  I am letting him grow up to be whatever he wants to be, and I am giving him the tools to do so.  A little guidance, a little luck, some toys and games, a lot of time, and a lot of love.

To my little boy, the insomniac

You are sleeping now, finally.  Every nap and every night is a fight, but once you are asleep, you stay asleep.  Still, it is a fortunate day when you nap, and an even more fortunate night when you fall asleep before midnight.  I get you to sleep by cuddling you in a dark room for an hour or more, but I usually end up asleep before you.  All of my waking moments belong to you, and I am afraid to move you when you nap or you won't nap at all.

I know you don't want to miss anything.  I know the world is new and exciting and now that you are mobile, there is so very much to see.  Your personality is starting to settle in, and what I see more than anything is overwhelming curiosity.  You have always been so alert and so aware of your surroundings, even as a newborn you looked into the eyes of others and began to understand.

Thanks to your grandmother, you have more toys than we know what to do with, but you don't care much for them.  You'd rather sit outside under the trees, swing in the park, and steal electronic devices and skeins of yarn off the couch.  The world is your toy.  The world is yours to mold under your creative will.  You are already manipulating your environment through pillow forts, figuring out the mechanics of baby gates, and removal of wall outlet covers.

Little one, it surprised me when you began to speak even though you weren't even nine months old yet.  You still only have a couple of words, but you know how to use them.  Early talker, late mover, and you are just now figuring out how to sit up on your own without being placed.  Maybe you just didn't have anyone to model that after.  After meeting another little boy and watching him cruise on furniture, you had the cruising skill mastered within days.

You are growing up so fast.  Every day is a new skill.  You are 10 months old and perfect.  Soon you won't be a baby anymore and will never be a baby again.  Soon I'll have to set you loose on the world and see where your exuberant personality and obvious intelligence take you.  You'll always be my baby, but I resign myself to knowing that one day you will be a man.

For now I'd rather watch you sleep, innocent one.  You are cuddled up on my lap, snoring softly.  You are beautiful and happy, energetic and inquisitive.  I will hold on to these moments to recall in the future days when you are a sullen teenager and a busy adult.  Silky hair, soft skin, color-changing eyes, a slight smile when you sleep.  I'm saving this moment for later.  I am slowly raising you and teaching you to be a wonderful person, but for now, sleep, dream, play, learn, and live surrounded by love.

Just Play

I am not a grown-up. I am old enough by far to qualify as one, and I am an adult. I feel like the moment I grow up is the moment I forget how to play. I don't want to forget. I don't want to be serious. I show restraint most of the time, but sometimes I just need to let loose and run through the trees, lost in a fantasy. Am I a woodland fairy, a deer, a hawk soaring low on the hunt? I want to keep my vivid imagination intact.  I can't write unless I can put myself in the mind of another, and I need to hold on to the child in me to do that.

I am a responsible adult.  I have an engineering degree, a mortgage, a family.  I had a "real" job until it became evident that I wasn't getting paid enough to make it worth the stress once I subtracted gas and daycare from my wages.  I am responsible for the little man crawling joyfully around my feet right now.  He is looking up at me and smiling and I am playing with him even while writing this.  We are playing "hide the mouse from the baby".  Sometimes that is all it takes to entertain.  I am his mother, his caretaker, his soul provider of nutrition for the first six-and-a-half months of his life, his playmate, his diaper changer.  If I ever forget how to play, how could we relate so flawlessly?  I can make toys from paper and plastic bottles, create soft friendly bears from a ball of yarn and some stuffing.  My imagination frees us from the need for manufactured toys, though we have a houseful thanks to my mother.

There is too much seriousness in the world.  Too much grown-up behavior.  Take a break from it.  Forget about your job and your bills for a few minutes and play with your children.  Pretend.  Be the dragon to their knights and princesses.  Go out side and make up stories about clouds and birds.  Paint a picture together.  If you don't have children, play anyways.  It's refreshing, really, it is.  Sled down a hill, roll in the grass, jump in a pile of leaves, just do something!  Life is so much better when you allow yourself a moment of fun within the otherwise endless doldrums of routine responsibility.