My daughter is a mommy’s girl. She comes to me whenever she’s upset, embarrassed, happy, nervous or angry. We make each other laugh, share inside jokes and come up with silly stories together; every night, she prefers to do the bedtime routine with me. It was a relationship I had been working on since she was in my belly.
So when I was pregnant with my son, I thought the same would happen. A lot of moms kept telling me that sons love their mothers very differently than daughters. Their adoration is consistent from the beginning and prevails throughout the years. I had so many expectations set before the little dude arrived that I couldn’t help but get my hopes up about having a mommy’s boy.
In the first year after his birth, he didn’t have a preference for me or my husband.
Either one of us could soothe, feed, hold and play with him. One of the things I loved doing was taking afternoon naps together. After his milk, he would nestle his wrinkly face in my chest and fall asleep. I would match my breaths with his while nuzzling my nose on his fuzzy little head.
But around the time he learned how to walk, he started gravitating toward my husband more than me. There were moments when he’d fall and I would rush over to comfort him. He would push me away, look at his dad with teary eyes, and whine for him.
One day, I heard him crying after his nap. So I dashed upstairs to get him.
As I held him in my arms, bobbing and hushing, he saw his dad in the corner of his eyes. He arched his back and cried even harder as I tried to hold him tighter. While passing him to my husband, I fought back tears and hurt feelings.
Unlike my daughter, my son didn’t prefer mom to put him to bed, comfort him, or play with him. For a while, I was a bit jealous of the attention he gave my husband. I felt almost entitled as his mother to get some of that love and adoration. I carried that little bugger for nine months. I deserved to be his favourite.
I dwelled on those feelings for a while but then I started to accept and embrace this reality.
First, my husband and I can finally tag-team as parents. With my daughter clinging onto me like a barnacle, it’s nice to see my husband inherit his own tiny sea creature. It evens out the playing field since we each have our own mini. We can do bedtime simultaneously, work together when both the kids are throwing tantrums and share the emotional labor.
Second, my husband no longer feels left out. When it was just the three of us, it was often my daughter and I playing together while he watched. Neither I nor my husband has a strong relationship with our fathers. Whenever we call home, we always ask for our moms first, leaving our dads out. However, it’s reassuring to see my son develop a strong relationship with his father, something neither of us had growing up.
Third, things will change. I think about how many times my daughter flip-flopped on whether she liked yogurt. And how she was super into Marshall from Paw Patrol one day but then the next day, she’s all into Rubble.
My son’s preference for his dad may just be a phase.
Right now, he likes him more than me. But there may be a day where he’ll want his mom more. The kids are still young and they change their minds like a flip of a switch. Some days, I’m their confidante. Other days, I’m their punching bag.
Ultimately, I will always be his mother.
The best things I can do as a parent is to love him unconditionally, be present, and keep trying. And that’s what I focus on. I sit beside him when he’s playing. I hold him when he’s crying. I hug and kiss him every moment I have. I tell him I love him always and forever.
Decades down the road, all I care about is that he knows I’m there if he needs me and I’m there if he doesn’t. Whether he asks for his dad or his mom when he calls home, I merely want him to call.
