Momedy

Today is man crush Monday, at least I think that’s still a thing. As has been the case with most of the crushes I’ve had in my life, my current one (my son) has made it clear that he does not return my feelings.

There are a few reasons that Alex and I don’t get along, the main one being that he doesn’t like me.

Alex is my favorite boy in the whole world, and at night when I snuggle him I give him a kiss on the bridge of the nose where my lips fit perfectly, and I’m honestly afraid I might bite him I want to eat him up so badly. Then his chubby little hands reach for my face … and slap it away with surprising strength for an almost two-year-old. And his sweet little velociraptor voice screeches “No Mommy no!!” or “No kiss!” or “Many thanks for growing me for nine long months in your belly and bringing me painfully into this world, but now that you’ve served your purpose, kindly get the f out of here and send Daddy in.”

You see while Alex tops my list, on his list of favorites you’ve got Daddy, his siblings, both sets of grandparents, all aunts uncles and cousins, every pet including the fish and at least 19 acquaintances before you get to me.

Last week I told Alex Daddy was on his way home and captured his reaction:

Then I told him that he wouldn’t be home in time for bed so Mommy would be putting him down:

I keep hearing about this magical bond between mothers and their sons, but right now the only thing bonding Alex and I is our agreement upon the banana.

My sweet baby boy has grown into a mini man with only one dream — to eat exclusively raisins and crackers, and I’m mean mommy who refuses to let him achieve it. So we’ve reached a truce, and that truce is bananas. It’s the only food he’ll eat that I’ll let him eat for every meal, and so our fruit bowl looks like this:

I’m at Piggly Wiggly every other day stocking up on more bananas, and then I can’t pass up the Sweet Trio caramel apples strategically placed between the bananas and the checkout, so I’m actually starting to look a lot like a pig. I am Piggly Wiggly. Thanks a lot, kid.

I can’t imagine what his problem with me could be. I’ve definitely never smothered him…

I’m sure I’ve never embarrassed him …

Yet somehow he still favors Eric. I guess if I think about it I can’t really blame him there. Eric takes him on four wheeler rides while I put him in four time outs a day. I’m also inclined to blame Evelyn, who’s been attached to me from day one despite my promises to Eric that little girls DO grow up to adore their daddies. So when Alex came along, Eric was hell bent on turning him into a Daddy’s boy.  Like — vetoed a Llama Llama Birthday theme because there’s no Dad in the Llama Llama books. (I stand by my argument that a “Llama Llama Mad at Mama” party would have been perfect for this kid.)

He truly has become a Daddy’s boy though and as a result, he yells “Daddy home!” from the moment Eric walks out the door in he morning. Currently it’s happening while he’s supposed to be napping:

When he’s not yelling for Eric, he’s just standing at the window, waiting for him to come home.

So it’s clear. My crush has a crush on someone else … a reality 16-26 year-old Melissa was more than familiar with.

But I’m not giving up on this one, not even in the face of full on rejection:

He’ll come around someday. And until then, we’re having a Curious George birthday party.

Curious George, who has a father figure yet no mother. Coincidence? I think not.