The notion of two men vying for your undivided attention and playing for your sole affections is a love story straight from the scene of any cheesy book or movie. With rose coloured glasses in place, I’d always envisaged this oh so romantic notion to be the epitome of a saga on undying love. Shame then that it was my 16 month old son and my 4 month old nephew who were (metaphorically) waging war for the rights to my everlasting devotion!
Be careful what you wish for, isn’t that what the prophecy proclaims? I’d long been yearning for a child who would lavishly bestow bucket loads of affection on me – again this wishful thinking would have been best issued with a disclaimer. Perhaps next time I’ll add in a footnote – please let my son smother me with those clinging for dear life cuddles on any other day than the one which also entails me being primary caregiver to my baby boy nephew Mason.
My son, still sick from his nasty cold, was openly and ardently against the sharing of his precious Mummy on this day, and he had no hesitation in letting it be known to the smaller person in the food chain. Poor, poor little Mason, if he copped one wayward whack to the head, then he would have worn four or five more in the 6 hours he stayed in the battle zone. I did my best to referee, I truly did, but I swear every time I inched away from protecting Mason’s trenches, Harrison swooped in to re-assert his utter annoyance at the situation he had forced upon him.
There was one time where I whirled around just in time to see my son hovering dangerously close to Mason’s little head, him brandishing a pencil in hand and ready to leave a permanent mark on the poor little tyke’s face. And he, who hasn’t had a afternoon bottle for oh, six months now, saw fit to try and sneak Mason’s almost from his mouth, had he been a few seconds faster than his mummy as we both lunged for it at the same time. Little Mason then copped a few more “love taps” on the leg as I tried to juggle feeding him in one hand and alternated between swotting away Harrison and consoling him as he sobbed, as if utterly broken hearted, on my knee, all the while pleading in his inconsolable voice, “up a day” which roughly translates to “pick me up mummy and cuddle me, I am BEGGING YOU!”
And then there were the few times when I had both of them squawking and stretching their lung capacity at full scope, when I thought I don’t think I have ever been more sure about Harrison’s only child status. There is nothing quite like the ear splitting squeals and sobs of two little children to make up your mind to NEVER forget to use contraception…
But Mason, bless him, at least there was always a reason for his cry and soon as the need was met, he was a blissfully happy bub! His cousin, on the other hand, had the day marked down in the memory bank with a big black cross, as one of the toughest ever endured in parenthood. Not much could bring laughter to that face, nor smiles to those beautiful big blue eyes. We hope our happy and healthy bubba returns soon!