Mum authority

Mum Authority is a term I’m pretty sure I’ve made up. And it’s something I didn’t feel I had until quite recently.

When we transported Wills home from the hospital it marked the beginning of us being in charge. Occasionally he’d cry (spoiler alert, that can happen a lot) when he cried, visitors would often ask me what was the matter with him. And I wouldn’t have a bloody clue. My standard response was usually, ‘I don’t know, I’ve only had him a week…’ and sometimes I’d feel bad. Does this make me a bad mum? Don’t mums usually know what’s wrong with their children, don’t they sense it? I didn’t ¬†know him well enough to know if he was out of sorts. Does this mean we haven’t bonded, after all I was whipped away so soon after he was born to get my bits sewn back together.

The thing is, there are two things I’d like to point out: 1, when Wills was born he looked like a baby, not me or his dad, just a baby. He could have been anyone’s. Now he’s the spit of his dad, even the postman has told me so (‘must look like his dad because he looks nothing like you…’). And 2, he had no personality. People might think that’s a mean thing to say but how could he? He’d been floating around in a womb for nine months, he’d never experienced anything other than that.

I’d felt him move and he’d heard my voice but we’d never met until that hot afternoon in hospital. And yet here I am, expected to know everything about him. Fast forward nine months and he is rapidly becoming his own little person, and I have developed a ‘mum authority’ I know when he’s not quite right. What he does and doesn’t like, the reactions I’m going to get. And with this new knowledge of my son comes not the feeling that I particularly know best, but that what I say goes.

What I say goes.

I am rapidly building a dislike of him being tickled. A little is fine, but people go too far, do it for too long and I don’t like it. And if I don’t like it, guess what? It’s not happening.

He doesn’t want to kiss you goodbye? Guess what? He’s not kissing you goodbye, my son chooses who he kisses, not me.

If I say he’s had enough of something or I don’t want him to have something…. guess what? (Pretty sure you get the gist)

I’m embracing my newfound mum authority, maybe it was a long time coming. Do I always know what’s best? No. Am I always right? Of course not (don’t tell hubs!) but I think it’s about time the world knows this:

I am mum. What I say goes.

In other news:

Marms has been once again gracing us with her presence, last night she sat next to my feet for a whole tewnty minutes! Some of this time was spent chewing my slipper socks.

Hubs is on a stag do this this weekend (bachelor party to any readers from the U S of A) so I’m solo parenting for a couple of days.

The boy has learnt to clap. We are super proud.

 

 

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