Daddy's little man

I fear I've lost him already—Noah, that is. I've lost him to the land of rough and tumble, fishing, hunting, loud manly toys and most importantly—Daddy.

You see, I've always worried that the challenge of having a boy is that he can choose to NOT be a momma's boy (which is good and bad), and he could find favor in all things Daddy. Noah has decided in the last few months that I am no longer hip and cool; Daddy is where it's at!

I can't help myself: I'm devastated! Where is my cuddler? Bring back my little superman baby (the one I could easily zoom around). And for goodness sake, where is the little one who MISSED Mommy a little bit during the day?

[Insert extremely loud and labored sigh here.]

It isn't all bad. I have watched other Dads ignore or at least slack in the parenting department. David does not. It is his dedication to interaction and play that endears Noah to him (I, on the other hand, look like a fool when I try to imitate the way Daddy plays with Noah... and it doesn't work either).

Also, I love my husband—a lot! I knew when I married him that he would be an amazing Dad, and he is. So these two things reassure me that if I can't be the cool parent, at least Noah's in good hands.

Still, I find myself feeling a little bit like a kid at a junior high dance—waiting to be asked on the dance floor, standing in the corner in her best dress and first pair of heels. All the other kids are dancing and laughing and having the times of their lives. One boy in particular has caught my eye, but he's hanging out with his friends throwing spit wads on the ceiling (yep—that would be the part of the analogy that features David & Noah). At the end of the evening, I go home feeling disappointed that no one noticed me. As so it goes at home.

Oh, I know, it really isn't all that bad. Thank goodness for my sagging self esteem that I have Noah all to myself on Tuesdays and Fridays when I work from home. I treasure those days, and lately I find myself inventing all sorts of way to "make them count."

I've also learned that for a child to excel, he needs more than one kind of parent. Enter me: the kind who loves to read with her baby boy, find interesting ways of "helping" mommy with things around the house, take long walks, run around outside. I find it's a healthy balance to David, who just likes to be full-out BOY with Noah (also important!).

So I think the moral of this story is "Buck up, Tif!" I'm sure Noah will still "need" me from to time—even as he's scrambling out the door to go hunting with David or catching a ride on the all-too-speedy quad. After all, someone's gotta kiss the inevitable boo boos that come from being a man's man, and I do believe the best person for that job is MOMMY.