Thank You, Dr. McStuffins

Last night, after reading The Jungle Book six times in a row, it was "nuggle time." This particular nuggle my son turned to me and said, "I feel your heart Momma?" At this point he began to pat and squeeze my chest as a sleepy smile crossed his face.
"Yes, my love."
His eyes began to flutter, but the smile remained pasted to his sweet chunky cheeks.
"It's comfy Momma," he said.

And in that moment I thanked everything I could thank that I was a momma, his Momma. My breath left my chest and I wouldn't inhale. I wanted to be sure he could feel my heart beat strong and solid, in half time to his own beautiful fluttering organ that we associate so deeply with love. I wanted him to feel my love, my life force that flows through me so I can in turn share it with him.

Thank you Dr. McStuffins, for being there when I can't. Thank you for teaching my son where a "strong heart" is. Thank you for your oh so fluffy ways.

How Do I Teach You To Shake It?

The first time my son peed in the potty! What a glorious day! Right?

We were staying in Oregon this summer visiting some friends. It was a hot day, Oregon in July isn't all that much different the North Carolina in July, just a little less humid. So, we were down at the river. Suddenly! My son is grabbing at his jewels feverishly, and I think to myself, "By God, he has to pee!" I scoop him up like a hawk grabs a desert mouse and begin flying to the closest port-a-potty. In just seconds, I have his swim trunks off and his diapy removed. He is sitting there and boom! The tinniest of trickle releases from my sweet toddlers urethra.

That's when it hits me- boys don't wipe.

As I am staring at my beautiful womb-creation I begin to wonder how the hell a single mother could ever raise a man. How in all of god's-green-Earth was I supposed to explain to my 2-year-old, looking at me patiently for my next life lesson, that he was supposed to grab his teen-tiny and vigorously shake it back and fourth until no dribble of urine remained.

I froze....I stuttered....I couldn't do it.

I took a single square of 1-ply and I dabbed the tiny tip of his one-day man-hood.

It has taken almost a year to reverse the trauma. He insist on wiping even though so many of our wonderful pseudo-uncles have stepped in and delivered instruction on proper technique of the "shake."

Here I am, one more example on a motherhood fail.

One day boys may tease him as he awkwardly waddles from the urinal to a stall for his single sheet of hygiene. But, it will be he who has the last laugh when they all drop trouser in gym class and every one of them hides their dirty little pee-spotted boxers and my son bare ones so fresh and crisp that (still wouldn't but) one could eat off of them.