Tank. Never in my life would I have thought I would have a child with the nickname tank. A child so ferociously curious. So impatient. So strong. So large. So loveable. So sweet. So… just everything that he is.
So, let me tell you a little about our adventures with tank. When he was born, he was a tiny little 6 pound 15 ounce bundle of sweet perfection. I breast fed. We coslept. He was attached to my hip. When he was a little over 3 months old, we ended up in the hospital because he was having some digestive issues. Well, after 2 nights in the hospital, my mom gut determined he was lactose intolerant. So, we did the lactose sensitive formula for a minute. Then we put him on lactose free whole milk. And holy mother of all things good in this world the kid started growing. A lot. In a hurry. And hasn’t really slowed down since.
He weighs in at 43 pounds. Of pure muscle. He outweighs his 5 year old big sister. I only outweigh my 1 year old son by 60 pounds. He is a brute. Hence the name tank. Somedays I swear he isn’t human.
This past Tuesday, we were outside like usual in the evenings. Going about our merry little blessed life on the farm. He was in his little baby swing (which I knew he was creeping up to the weight limit on.) and I turned my back for 2 seconds. Maybe. He leaned forward while the swing was going backwards. The principle of Kinetic Energy or something like that says that objects in motion tend to stay in motion. Well, let’s just say that’s a fact. The swing stopped to change momentum to go forward. Luke did not get the memo. He does a front flip out of the swing towards the shop. Lands on his back. Hard. I panic. Clayton Panics. Dude cries for a mere 3.76 seconds. Then he’s off.
I picked him up to see if it “knotted out.” Ya know, one of those things they teach you in motherhood school. If the belly hurts, ask if subject has to poop. If they hit their head, check for a knot. If no knot, no sleep. Well, here’s the thing about tank. He has so many knots on his head! My dad used to call me a knot head. I thought he was just being silly. Luke really is a knot head. So, I’m watching for other signs of a concussion. Ya know, stumbling, pupils dilating, etc. I’m watching him plow his way across the yard. Next thing I know, he is halfway up the slide. Climbing. Up the slide. I think it’s safe to say at this point he has no concussion.
I then decided to put the children on the trampoline. Yes, I know. My daughter just broke her leg on the trampoline. No, she isn’t scared of it. No, I didn’t sell the damn thing. And no, I don’t think I’m a bad mom for putting them in there. Shit happens. Freak accident. We’ll do better. Anyway, back to my story…. Luke takes off in a full force run the best he could do on a trampoline. Runs face first into the pole that holds the net. <<< see. I’m a responsible parental type figure. We have a net.>> big black bruise with a gnarly knot on his nose. He laughs. Literally. Cackles that cute little baby laugh. Well, his actually sounds more like an evil laugh. Like Pinky and the Brain when their plotting their earthly takeover. But none the less, he laughs.
Then, we go to a friend’s house. Where Tank proceeds to eat. again. He just ate a whole plate of spaghetti at our house and now he is eating hot dogs. String beans. Cottage cheese. And whatever else he can get his little paws on. He is all over the place. He goes to pick something up from under the table and hits his head on the wraught iron table. And moves it. With his head. Laughing the whole time.
Every one says boys are a different world than girls. I thought I was prepared. But for real, no one. No one at all. Could have mentally prepared me for life with tank. I am always on my toes. Literally and figuratively. He pushes me to my breaking point. He tests the limits. He enjoys risks. He purposefully does things that may hurt him. But, his hugs might possibly be one of the best things in this life. And his new thing is when he kisses his mama, he grabs my cheeks. And when he wakes up crying and I go in there, he just relaxes. And I know he needs me. And now I know why mamas of little boys are so tough. ❤