Embracing My Role

Paxton sometimes get very involved with his toy playing. He is really into his VTech block train lately. This fine morning, he was taking each block from the train and putting it neatly in the dog food bowl.

This picture reminded Chris and me of my brother, Aaron. Chris said that we have an almost exact duplicate of that picture with Aaron as a baby. I'll have to look for it. It's strange to see our family members reflected in our baby's face. We've seen a lot of my grandpa, Papap, in his expressions. We also see a lot of Aaron. The other day, Paxton made a facial expression just like my mom. I don't look at Paxton and see myself or Chris, but I often feel like he looks very familiar. I feel like I've known that face for decades. Maybe that's just a mom's inherent connection with her son, but I think it's more likely that Paxton is a compilation of generations of each side of his family, and it's impossible to ignore.

Paxton has been bursting forth with new words at the pace of a few a week now. Every morning, when I collect him from his crib, I point out the framed pictures on his wall. One is his newborn picture, and the other is a picture of him with the Easter Bunny last year. My hope was that by making this a morning tradition, he would become numb to the sight of a giant rabbit, come time to make our annual trip to the mall to be photographed with the plush hare of lore. However, he has absolutely no interest in the bunny. Instead, he points to himself and proudly declares, "BABY!". At first, it came out as "boo-boo" or "buh-bo", but now it is a clear and perfect "bay-bee".

He also has begun to mumble a version of "bubbles". This was less about using a new word for the sake of showing off his vocabularly, than it was about necessity. The boy likes bubbles. He wants us to blow these bubbles for him at his every whim. Pointing in the vicinity of the bubble fluid does not necessarily get the desired result. So instead, he points, says "aub-bull", and blows gently into the air. It's a very effective means of communicating. When he goes to all that effort, it's impossible to refuse his request.

He has also started being a little bit more of the cuddly son I prayed for. Paxton is, through and through, a daddy's boy. When I come home, he may wave and briefly acknowledge me. When Chris comes home, he slow-motion runs into his arms. Chris' arrival home is greeted with ruckus, joyful laughter. My arrival home is met with a suspicious stare, questioning if I intend to take him away from his wonderful daddy. Lately, Paxton has learned that a hug or a kiss can melt his mommy's heart. The thing is, the hug is most often reserved for his stuffed lion and the kiss is between me and his Madagascar figures, per his request. But every once in a blue moon, Paxton will walk up to me, wrap his arms around my legs and pat the back of my knee, lovingly. At storytime on Friday, he walked straight to Amy and gave her a big hug. I think this is his attempt to court Tatum. He knows that Tatum has her pick of boy babies, and he wants to hedge his bets. Smart cookie, that one.

Another new object of his adoration is his basket of books. He rummages through daily and presents me with one to read to him. For weeks, the only book he showed any interest in was the Sesame Street First Counting Book. I can recite this from memory. "One cookie for Cookie is always such fun. Two special friends hope they'll hit a home run. Three happy friends sit looking at their books, while four colorful jackets are hung onto hooks." Honestly, it's pretty boring. To entertain myself when I'm reading, I sing-song the pages until I get to the one featuring the Count. Then I do my best Count impression while I count the bats. "...eight bats, nine bats, HA! HA! HA!". He loves that. My background in drama is finally paying off.

I also enjoyed recently acting out "Kat Kong" for him which has made it a new favorite. I think most of it bores him. He doesn't get the subtle humor about how the mice were careful not to let Kat Kong "out of the bag". But he does take great pleasure when I hiss and meow Kat Kong's protest to his mouse tormentors. He laughs and hisses along with me. The scratches on his hands and face are testaments to the number of times he's heard the real deal while trying to force a toy into the unwilling laps of sleeping cats. I'm sure hearing the agony of a storybook cat being tortured by mice brings him a tremendous amount of vengeful satisfaction.

Betraying his British and Irish roots, our son would prefer to spend the majority of each day outdoors. I compromise by opening the back door for him, so he can roam around on the deck while I sit safely out of the sun on the comfortable couch. This doesn't usually sate his desires. For some reason, the sign for "fan" has become his signal that he wants us to push him in his swing. When I'm in the middle of something else, I pretend not to notice, and he gets distracted by pulling all of the contents out of my wallet or something like that. Chris, however, has not mastered the fine art of parental neglect. He gives in to Paxton's pleas with only the most feeble resistance. For some reason, the sound of Paxton's scream-punctuated tantrums and angry shouts of demand do not rub Chris the wrong way, as they do me. He feels sorry for the little imp. Perhaps because I am subjected to his one-act plays all day, every day, I see them for what they are--acting. And not very good acting, at that. He could at least squeeze out a few tears. He doesn't even bother to go to that extent anymore.

It's funny to me to see how Paxton interacts differently with his mommy and daddy. Even though he and I know how to push each other's buttons, we also have looks we exchange that send up both into fits of laughter. We have inside jokes, and our own traditions. With Chris, Paxton feels 100% safe, and it shows. I know the feel of being inside those strong arms, so I know just what he's thinking. Nothing is quite as secure as a daddy's embrace. Paxton knows that Chris will do anything for him, and he trusts that he will never be bored in the company of Chris' creative games. They always have fun together, and I don't blame him one bit for preferring that lightness to the heavy hand of a mommy who is forcing him to take a bite of his lunch, or insists that he takes a nap. I relish my role as Paxton's mommy, and being the control-freak that I am, it fits me. But I'm thankful that we still share so many happy moments together.