Jackson is a Daddy's boy. His first was word "da-da" . . . blatant and clear as day. When he's scared, he runs to Daddy. When he is hurt, he runs to Daddy. When he falls asleep, he sleeps on Daddy. I'm not bitter. He doesn't realize that I carried him for 9 months and spent days of excruciating labor to get him into this world. He has no way of knowing that. I'm not bitter.
Mike, a true mama's boy, keeps telling me that Jackson will grow into toddlerhood and want ONLY his mama, at least for some point in his life. Maybe he's right? Doesn't Freud have some crazy theory that all boys want to marry their mothers during a stage of development? With my luck, he may give me a kiss on the cheek when he wants to car keys, but I don't see him evolving into a mama's boy. I'm not bitter though.
Jackson has now moved from "da-da" to "daddy". I won't be surprised if he graduates to "father" before I get my "ma-ma." Yup - I am basically known as "baa-baa." I am as good as a sheep. I wonder if I didn't kiss him enough (though I am surprised that I didn't kiss his face off with all the smackaroos I gave him since birth). Maybe I didn't pick him up fast enough when he cried, or let him sit in his pee diaper too long? Maybe I overfed him, or didn't give him enough fun time during bath . . . I always seem to be more of the disciplinarian than I'd like. Mike is the "fun one." I'm not bitter though.
So, here I stand bitterless, and holding out hope to hear MAMA, blatant and clear, and used for an endearing reason . . . not just when he is out of ravioli and needs a refill of milk. I hope I'll hear "MAMA - I love you" sometime before he hits puberty and hates me again. I'll hold out hope for now, and just let Mike shine in his role of the perfect and wonderful "daddy, da-da, father" and every version that he is.
