Throw the Whole Mama Away! When Your Child Prefers Daddy Over You.

Nine months of pregnancy. At least four of those were spent not being able to control my bladder, sleep on my back, wear pants that didn’t sag in the crotch and smell anything too smelly, which was just about everything. The last two months were spent feeling as though some little man was testing out his new flame thrower in my chest and his brother was downstairs kicking the crap out of my pocketbook (vagina,) covered in extra maternity pant fabric. Lest us not forget the diet I was placed on in my last month thanks to gestational diabetes and the thirty plus hours of labor I endured, only to have my stomach cut open and leave me with the flapjack of a tummy that remains today.

I reminisce on those nine months as I sit here and listen to my four year old, who is the product of that pregnancy, tell my husband, he does not want Mommy to put him to sleep. He does not want Mommy. He does not want the flapjack recipient. He does not want me! This is not a new occurrence in our home. People often say that boys love their Mama’s. While I have no doubt that my son loves me, we know who the favorite is around here and it’s Daddy.

Daddy, the one who is a fantastic father but who is not the one who spent over two weeks sitting at the kitchen table putting individual loose rhinestones on the Night Ninja Halloween costume and matching Ninjalingo army, that I made because it wasn’t sold in stores but that’s what he wanted to be. Daddy, the amazing provider but also not the one who “Ninjago’d” the living room and made a ninja tablescape whilst scooting around on a knee scooter, six days post foot surgery, so the birthday boy could wake up in amazement.

I don’t say these things for kudos because I know most Mama’s would walk on hot coals for their babies, myself included.  However, as I sit here in my downstairs makeshift recovery room, (still recovering from my foot surgery) segregated from the upstairs population,  I have thoughts of the sweet little baby, who wanted nothing more than to love, hug and snuggle with Mommy. I’m now reduced to the equivalent of a wingman forced blind date, that a guy begs his friend to go on, so he can score with her friend. I can hear my husband calmly negotiating this kid’s departure, saying things like, “just go downstairs, that’s your Mom and go keep her company.”

Probably more so for his benefit, to take a poop or a shower in peace, without someone sitting ringside. I’m assuming he’s seeking the kind of carefree television watching and relaxing, I’m currently complaining about. There are many times when the whole “only wanting Daddy” thing works in my favor. Like when I want to run errands or watch a show, he’s perfectly content to spend time with my husband. However, sometimes it really hurts my feelings that my child, acts as though I’m a stranger that he’s being forced to canoodle with. It can become frustrating to my husband as well because there are times when he can use a break.

I guess my husband brokered the deal because the little one finally comes to visit me in my homespital room. I’m not ashamed to say, that I was a little less than enthused. I know what’s happened here with this forced companionship. I’m well aware that children can ebb and flow with their feelings and preferences and like everything else, this too shall pass but Mama needs love too. It’s a feeling of being disposable. Like, I’m glad you’re here Mom but as it pertains to you versus Dad, you can throw the whole Mama away. The silver lining here and an extreme asset to my sanity is the fact that their father/son bond is so strong. Considering the alternative allows me to shed only a couple of tears instead of crying a river.