Boo Hoo, Boo Boo

Children, with their bouncy gaits and inattention to safety concerns are just accidents waiting to happen, and they happen frequently. Every mother will apply numerous kisses to heal the inevitable boo-boos during their children's younger years. Well, every mother but me.

The Girl was my first baby. Having read that coffee tables are a top source of injuries to babies learning to walk, I removed the coffee table from the livingroom as soon as she started to crawl. When she was two years old, I put the coffee table back, assuming she had gained some balance and coordination. Within a few days she had managed to topple off the sofa onto the table where she received her first bump on the head. I tossed the coffee table into the trash the very next day. This was her only major accident in her toddlerhood. The Girl was naturally careful and concerned for her own safety and rarely suffered any serious boo-boos needing attention. I am not sure that to this day she has ever truly experienced pain. She has made it her life's ambition to avoid pain at all costs.

The Boy, on the other hand, was born already programmed to self-destruct. He found new and interesting ways to hurt himself, or at least to try to hurt himself - a good portion of the time I was able to thwart his plans. So this should have afforded me ample opportunities to try out my boo-boo kissing and other make-it-all-better techniques. But it was not to be.

The Boy had a different approach to getting hurt. Getting his finger caught in the door jamb didn't make him cry, it made him hide his finger from me so I wouldn't see that he was hurt. He would react angrily to my solicitous questions about his general well-being. I quickly learned that the question "are you alright?" and outstretched arms never resulted in his running to me for comfort. Instead,he would pace about and mutter; returning to me only after the pain had ceased at which time he would relate the somewhat horrifying details of the incident.

In some ways The Girl's caution and The Boy's stoicism saved me from a lot of unnecessary panic over minor cuts and scrapes. But you have to admit, I have missed out on practicing the healing arts of motherhood. Therefore, I am unskilled in this particular area of nurturing. It's one reason I can't risk having any more children, the next one might be normal.

Little Boy Love

It's easy as a working mother to get caught up in the stresses of daily life, the schedules, the necessities of the moment - kids and school, mealtimes, worktimes. At times, you forget the wonderful things, the sweet joy that children can bring.

I was wandering through some earlier writings, some of which are on another blog I had started years ago and I found this story. It reminded me that the big 2nd grader who lay across my lap this morning while waiting for his ride to school, was once the little boy whose entire world was his mother. As daunting a responsibility as it can be to fulfill the role of "the world" to another human being, it is also very heart-satisfying. And so I am re-printing this story here, cause it brought a smile to my face this morning. It was called "The Appeal of Younger Men".

They strolled through the store, occasionally plucking a wanted item from a shelf and placing it in their cart.They chattered constantly in a happy banter, punctuated occasionally by lighthearted laughter. A white-haired woman leaning on her cart giggled slyly as she watched the young man reach out and take his love's hand.

He held it up to his cheek, guided its caress, his eyes closed, experiencing only the warmth of her touch, whispering a gentle "I love you". She drew closer to him, her lips grazed the hand that held hers. "I love you too". He was obviously so young, his face smooth and open with expectation . Her face wore a look of experience but her eyes shone with the love and purpose he had created within her. The elderly woman smiled as their carts passed, gave them a knowing wink as she remembered a life long gone by.

The scene was repeated throughout the store, young love demanding sometimes a hug, at times stealing a kiss. They were no different than other twosomes; perhaps it was his eyes and smile that drew attention to them, for he was beautiful in every way. She knew some envied her his ardor.

Shopping done, they retreated to their car. As she drove, his voice called from the back seat.

"Mom, can I kiss your hand"? She laughed and extended her right arm behind her. "Here, have at it". "Mom, you're so beautiful", he said as he kissed the hand she had given him. She glanced at the five year old in the back seat and thought "That kid is so smooth, gonna have to watch him when he grows up".