Here are the threads that have been running through my mind since they asked me to write this.
Every night is always the same.
Before I go to bed, the last thing I do is kiss Alfie on the head. And in a flash of an instant I picture my grandmother doing this to my mum and my mum doing it to me. I always have an exaggerated sense of time slipping by.
Already he fills so much of the bed. Long limbs. A head full of curls. And as I tip toe out of his room, I think about the man he will one day become.
On Tuesday morning I found Alfie under a blanket with his little sister draped across him. He was gently stroking her cheek.
“She likes it when I do this mum.”
While he has always been thoughtful, this was the first time I’d seen tenderness.
From the back seat of the car comes Alfie’s voice:
“Mum, when I become an adult I won’t live with you.”
“Where will you live?”
“In a house. But I’ll come and pick you up in my car and take you to my house.”
“What will we do when we get to your house?”
“I’ll make you lasagne and we’ll watch Scooby Doo.”
I always pictured myself as the mother of a son. I thought it would be as delicious as swimming in honey. And it is.
I love the physicality of how they play. I love the rough and tumble. I love their full-tilt adventure and curiosity.
When our boy becomes a man, I hope he is loyal, happy and passionate. That he has a strong sense of self and a quiet confidence, the type that truly doesn’t give a shit what others think – in the nicest possible way of course! That he leaves notes for his girl around the house, is the first to buy a round of drinks and can iron his own shirts. But most of all, I hope he cares. These times need men who care, and as his mama I hope I can show him that real men have a softness. Always.
You can check out the other blogs that have taken part in this series here: PottyMouthMama, Meet Me At Mikes, Mrs Smith, Kootoyoo, Sadie and Lance, One Flew Over, Pigeon Pair, Mogantosh, Hugo and Elsa and Gourmet Girlfriend