The title is self explanatory. Or you'd think. Do you have a boy? Or boys, plural?? Wow. No one could tell me what I was in for. At least not like when we announced we were having a girl. Everyone and their brother wanted to warn me of girls. Because, as you know, I am not a girl, so I couldn't understand. In hindsight, it seems people should have warned me of baby boys as indeed, I am NOT a boy. This was hard to fathom.
I am used to the drama of girls. I am one. I have one. My cat and dog are girls. I get it. I've always been moody, so the mood swings are like second nature. Not to say it's easy when Bree decides she's happy as a clam one minute, we tell her no for something and the world comes to and end. No, that's not easy at all. Okay, I admit, my sister-in-law did give me some sort of clue. She said girls were easier (?) when they are young and boys are easier as they get older. I should have known. But how could I?
But Layne...we also call him Angry Baby at times. He will be the happiest baby on the block as long as he's right next to mommy or in mommy's arms. He will even play happily if distracted while I go out of the room. Fantastic. However. It can all go downhill quickly with him. Why did no one warn me of temper tantrums? Well, to be fair, I know about them plenty. But how could I know a tiny little baby is capable of such tantrums? I half expect him to tear his shirt off as his color turns to green saying, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." Throwing himself on the floor (from a sitting position, mind you). Throwing himself back (whether he's being held or is playing). I couldn't tell you the times this child has bonked his head. And he's rarely phased. We're debating on getting this kid fitted for padding to keep him safe from his own tantrums.
And the headbanging? No one could tell me that baby boys find this fun? Walls. Sliding glass doors. Metal patio table legs. Shins. What is going on here? Someone please explain why this is fun to a boy!
We got incredibly lucky with Bree in that when we said "No", even as a baby, she listened pretty well. We didn't have to put much out of her reach. Do the whole baby proofing. We started to, but quickly realized she either didn't realize all there was to get into or just didn't care. She left things alone for the most part. Then there is the tasmanian devil, as I lovingly call Layne. Since he figured out how to move his little self, he has not looked back. If it's anywhere near him, he's all over it. And the more expensive, fragile, gross or dangerous, the more attractive it is to him. Banging on the cable box to him is the best game ever. We now not only have to put the bathroom trash up when we leave for the dog's sake, but it's up on a permanent basis for Layne's sake. He loves to put toys and his pacifier in there. This boy of ours is a non-stop ball of energy. He even fights sleep, as if he's afraid he'll miss the chance to wreak havoc on just one more inch of our house.
At the same time that I am amazed by this whirlwind of boy who has entered our life, I am equally thrilled with this new love of ours. For as much as he wears us down, our hearts are filled with more. Layne is a momma's boy and I could not be happier. I've always loved that Bree was a momma's girl and now she's shifting to be daddy's girl. Maybe it's because so much of my time is taken with tending to her baby brother. Maybe it's just nature for a girl to be so attached to daddy. Who knows. She will always be my baby girl and Layne is definitely and I hope always momma's boy.
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