Biting

So Lo is getting bit at school. His bestie has very few words and uses his teeth
and other objects to communicate his disdain and reluctance to share. What is a
mama to do?

Lo speaks about his playmate all of the time. He wants the same shoes; he tells
stories about how much fun the two of them have and how they “kick the ball.”
He also shares stories about how his friend bites him, and his response is, “It’s
otay, Mommy.” Which destroys me….

It’s not otay!

He is playing with a friend who hurts him often — and being the little boy that he
is, how does he understand that? His friend, whom he enjoys and who plays with
him all of the time, also hurts him. I am wondering if this is life, if this is a lesson
that is inevitable. Those we love hurt us at some point, no matter how much we
enjoy being with them. Maybe…but Lo is so little, can he understand what is
happening — that his friend has no words to express himself and is therefore

expressing himself physically by biting? Likely not, but why does he say, “It is
otay?” Why does he enjoying being with someone who is hurting him?

It worries me.

I think about who I have been socially through my thirty-seven years. As a young
child, I was easily led, whether that was by the male neighbours to the dark
corner of the furnace room to kiss, or by friends to their houses to look at all of
their toys. As I got a bit older, I followed further — I wanted to be friends with
the pretty girls, and experienced that feeling of being accepted but bullied at the
same time. It is this memory that haunts me as Lo experiences the high of having
a friend and the low of being hurt. And in the end, he says, “It’s otay.”

I don’t want him to get used to giving a lot and getting hurt. I don’t want him to be
the one who learns to accept that being hurt by people is normal and you cannot
trust anyone without being disappointed, over and over again. I am worried that
this experience with his little friend is setting up a lifetime of expectations — that
will inevitably disappoint him.

Does this cycle ever change?
Does pleasure always include pain?
Does being human always mean we will be hurt?

I know there are a million life lessons to come for Lo. I am hoping that the impact
of all of these lessons does not dim his light and charm, hold him back from
taking risks, affect his ability to love and be loved.

I hope I make it through…make it through each lesson. I do not want to
protect him from it all, but I do want to show him that I will always be there —
unconditionally. Even though I am sure I will disappoint him too.

-Gray Mama


[image: Biting My Fingers]

Not all dreams come in diapers

There are few friendships as strong as the ones you make when working in a restaurant
or bar. There really is an “us against them” mentality that forces even the most unlikely
of people to bond like glue. (These relationships may be second only to the ones you
create among like-minded new mothers at emotionally charged mothers’ groups.)

In my past, I have served so many trays of beer and plates of steak frites that my arms
almost fell off, and through those stressful shifts I met some of my best friends. When I
first moved to the city, at 23, I was alone; I had my husband (then boyfriend), but I didn’t
have my own friends. One of my first jobs was in one of the busiest bars in the city, and
I quickly bonded with two women. We all started within a week of each other, which in
the restaurant world means you are cemented as allies. Why am I telling you this? What
does this have to do with motherhood? Well, nothing really, except that the two women I
am referring to are my best friends. And they don’t have kids. Or husbands. They are the
women I spend most weekends with. If I am drunk, they are likely there. And if W is sick,
or if he wants to pick apples or go to the splash pad, one of them is helping me.

They are my saviours, and my heart sometimes breaks when I think of the cold reality:
I will never be able to give as much to their potential families and children as they are
currently giving to me. They are W’s aunts in every sense of the word.

And today I said goodbye to one of them. She is moving across the equator to chase a
dream — not a MAN, a dream. She is opening her own business on the beach. She is
fulfilling a dream. A dream that isn’t tied up in diapers and daycare; a dream for herself.
She is leaving a life she has spent over ten years building in this city to try something
new. She said today, as we shared our last wine-filled dinner for a little while, “I want
things to happen, and I wish they were happening here. But they aren’t. How long should
I wait?” This, of course, is rhetorical because I can hear her dragging suitcases down the
stairs as I type. She isn’t waiting. She is doing.

Sometimes I am so wrapped up in my world of W and husband and work that I forget
that I have amazing friends. Women who are doing seriously amazing things surround
me. Some people’s knee-jerk reactions may be to think, “Well, they don’t have kids.
They can do what they like,” but these women would love children one day and in the
meantime they aren’t waiting, they are doing. And I find that inspiring. A younger me
would be down on myself for not being more adventurous, but I am now comfortable
saying I am not the type of person who leaves the country or moves to the beach and I
am okay with that. I wake up at the same time every day and eat the same things and
sing the same songs. The journeys my friends take are a part of me. I am so proud of
them. Just as I know that they find my ability to get up at 6 a.m. and make pancakes
mind-boggling, I find their willingness to chase their dreams inspiring.

Travel safe, Tia! I hope W learns from you that you have to take the bull by the horns
sometimes and leap in to the unknown.

-Tightrope Mama