Wednesday night was date night with my girls. We attended AWANA while Fiddledaddy spent a little bonding time with the boy. Much to Jensen’s delight. When Jensen was born, I thought I’d finally have a child that worships the linoleum I walk on.
I was mistaken.
As far as Jensen is concerned, the sun rises and sets on Daddy. As though he senses the balance of testosterone and estrogen in the house is askew. Even the death of Katie the Cat left the house still hormonally unbalanced. And with the onset of pre-menopause, well, the testosterone carriers in the house cling together. Afraid for their very lives.
By the time we girls pulled into the driveway, Fiddledaddy had put Jensen blissfully to bed. One down. Two to go. Just as we were preparing to enter the front door, we noticed a number of frogs on our front porch. Everything from small green ones to large fat bulbous amphibians. A plague, as it were. As Fiddledaddy opened the door, the commotion began, in domino effect. Emme shrieked, catching a small frog attached to the door. And thusly flinging it to the middle child. Who screamed. Then a large well fed toad attempted to hop into the house. Fiddledaddy scooted him out with his foot. At this point, Emme thought it would be sporting to stomp on this hapless frog. While wearing her crocs. The frog began hopping for his life, heading right for the middle sister and the mother, as she continued stomping. Have I mentioned the mother is deathly afraid of frogs? For no apparent reason. From all the shrieking and screaming, the neighbors must have locked their doors and pulled down their collective shades in an effort to avoid the home invasion robbery that was surely occurring next door.
Somehow the frog escaped certain death from squishing, and we made it in the door. Breathless.
But not without waking the sleeping baby brother.
Since the majority of the noise came from me, I felt obligated to go to him to comfort him back to sleep. When I entered his room, the crying ceased, and he looked up at me with tired red eyes. “Mama rock,” he stated. “Mama rock,” I agreed. We settled into the old faithful rocking chair. My baby boy laid his sweet head on my shoulder. After a few moments, he looked up at me and whispered, “Mama home?” “Mama home,” I reported. He smiled and sighed contentedly, “Mama home,” and he lay his head back on my shoulder. His breathing matching my own.
And for that sweet moment, he was a mama’s boy.
{ 24 comments }
What a funny story. With a sweet ending. What’s with all the frogs having a party on your doorstep. Weird.
Glad you got your snuggles though.
“Since the majority of the noise came from me…” LOL! And I am right there with ya.
Don’t worry, DeeDee, boys just go through cycles. They have to be daddy’s boy occasionally to learn all that “man stuff”, but they ALWAYS come back to momma. Still, nothing beats those sweet snuggly moments, huh?
Awwwww…so sweet!
Hugs!
Kat
ooooooawwwwwwwww How cute! My favorite little boy in the whole world just turned 5 on Wednesday! In church, he looked up at his daddy and said, “I want mommy”. :O)
Though they adore their daddies, every boy is a momma’s boy at heart
Enjoy these moments. They get big so fast. I’m still enjoying my little one too =)
We have two boys. One is a mama’s boy and the other remarks quite often that he “loves Daddy most.” But he wants the snuggles and kisses too, especially at bedtime.
Oooooo! Frogs! Gross! I am soooo with you on that one.
Don’t you just live for those snuggly moments when you’re the most important thing in the world to them. sigh… I’m so glad the toad didn’t get squished – can you imagine the mess?! LOL! I am a little curious why the amphibian convention was held at your doorstep, though!
Jensen must be all about the balance of hormones. After an evening of nothing but testosterone, but needed a little Mommy estrogen.
Sweet, sweet story.
Except for the frogs.
Oh so sweet, I can totally relate. My little guy will want his Daddy all day long and then when it comes to bed time it’s momma he wants!
Sigh. I want mine to want to rock too…
To think I let my sister borrow my rocking chair. I need it back now. Even though the boy is almost larger than I am.
By the way, all those frogs talked me out of ever wanting to move to Florida.
How sweet is that? If only you didn’t have to wade through the frog soup in the meantime!
That is so sweet!
“Mama Home.”
)
i’m deathly afraid of frogs too. i think it’s genetic, my grandfather was too.
Aaawwww, that is precious DeeDee. What a sweet moment to treasure always.
I got to go to Awana! And we had 13 precious girls. I only knew 4 and met 9 sweethearts. I’ve already got everybody’s name memorized and love them all. I cannot wait to go back!!!
I think I should post my own frog story. Actually they were toads but who cares.
Maybe he was also saying “Momma, you rock.” Ya think?
So sweet.
And I’m very glad the frog escaped. Because squished frog would make a slippery front step.
that’s a priceless and precious memory! Not the frogs, the baby. Those boys, they always have a special spot for mama!
Dee Dee,
I have mentioned my lil one is much like Jensen. Only when he does ask to be rocked he asks you to sing but he wants to tell you how. Anyway, He woke me not long ago around three in the morning wanting to be held and rocked etc. As I am rocking and singing and such I whispered in his lil ear Mamma loves you! and he began to wail. I not love mamma ….I loooooveeeee dadddyyyyyyyyy.
LOLOL
steff
I loved your post! It transported me back 30 years when my grown menfolk were little boys. Both my guys loved to be rocked and the sweetness of the memories flooded me as I read your sweet story. Not about the frogs, you understand. About the boy. The sleepy boy. The boy who loves his mommy. Blessings as you raise up your flock of little ones.
Rocking my baby boys is definitely something I miss. It has been years since I’ve held a baby.
I’m skeered of frogs and toads too. I lived in Houston from ages 5 to 10 and once while walking on the driveway on a summer night, I accicdentally stepped on a large toad…barefoot. Never saw it until I stepped on it. But forty of so years later, it is still a vivid memory and I can “see” the toad after I stepped on it. Eeewww, gives me the creeps just to think about it. I was scarred for life.
I love reading all of your stories because I love the way you tell a story with your cool sense of humor.
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