Mama's Boy

Judah seems to be feeling almost back to his old self. He even stayed awake until bedtime tonight, which is a first in the past six days. One thing his illness made very apparent to us, besides the fact that you take health for granted until you don't have it, is that Judah is a mama's boy...big time. Judah has been practically affixed to my neck for a week. Today was the first day since the attack of the killer stomach bug, that we went more than an hour without Judah sticking his hand down my shirt (stay tuned for the "Mommy's cleavage is my attachment object" post).

There was a time, not so long ago, that Luke was the "stay at home" parent. And, although I was merely working upstairs all day, daddy reigned supreme in the kingdom of Jude. Judah snuggled with him more often, kissed his cheeks more frequently and stubbornly refused to say "mama" all summer along... although "dada" tripped off his tongue like the most natural combination of consonants and vowels ever spoken.

The tables have turned.

We aren't quite sure when the switch was made, but the mama boy diagnosis was cemented when Luke climbed into bed last night. Judah had already been in our bed, snuggling with me while I read and he convalesced. I couldn't bring myself to put my sick little baby (toddler) in the cage (crib) in his dark dank dungeon (brightly-coloured, warm nursery). In any case, Luke climbed in and the seemingly sleeping Judah began to mutter and kick in his general direction. The kicking then became wild flailing, and the grunting became full-out grunts of vexation. Dad was unwelcome in the mama-boy nest. Before long, Judah was perpendicular to me, ensuring no one could enter his territory and Luke was at the end of the bed.

"I'll just sleep down here like a dog." Luke conceded. 

"Alright dear. I'll just have his birth certificate changed to Oedipus in the morning." I said, while turning off the light. 

I think that's how the conversation went...

Regardless of how it happened, I'm enjoying my new status as favourite parent. There's a certain charm to hearing him say "mama" when he's in a room with other people, knowing he just wants a mama hug...

The charm wears down slightly when you haven't showered for two days and you wait anxiously for your spouse to return home, only to have your mutual offspring recoil in horror at the sight of said spouse (I mean, I know your dad goes to Western dude, but we have to forgive him for the bad purple hat and move on). Anyway, bathing is overrated right? Right?

I foresee a day, 15 or so years from now, when Judah will be taller than me and will have that weird smell that adolescent boys have (stink, covered by some poorly marketed body spray) and he'll want to take my car to go to some questionable gathering in some equally stinky adolescent's basement. And I'll probably say no. Chances are, he won't self-identify as a mama's boy then. So for now, I'm drinking it up.

Good night world!

Sincerely, 

World's most huggable mama...just ask Judah.