Whenever I share my grievances concerning motherhood I always get “oh, it’s just a season.” There is the teething season, which seems to last forever. There is the diaper season, which actually does last forever if you have back-to-back-to-back-to-back babies. There is the toddler tantrum season, which comes and goes. We have experienced a crying season, in which tears are attributed to nothing at all. There is the newborn season of nursing all night, which is typically followed by a season where you finally get to sleep a few hours straight until the teething season rolls around. There is no rhyme or reason to any of these, and some seasons like to overlap. Currently I find myself in the season of super glue and broken things.
My tw0-year-old son, Ben, breaks EVERYTHING—I mean, absolutely every single thing that makes its way into his hands. My dad used to call him “Bam Bam” when he was just a year old. On Christmas it took him less than an hour to break half of the gifts he got, plus a few gifts that were not his. I found myself assessing damage and applying wood glue, hot glue, super glue, Gorilla Glue, packing tape, and duct tape depending on the severity of the destruction. I have become an expert in determining what kind of adhesive is needed for the job. This is not a skill that I was looking to acquire. I have to admit that it fits well with one of my other super powers: knowing what weird concoction of things will remove blood from varying fabrics and surfaces. I don’t mean to brag, but it feels like I’m getting pretty close to owning every kind of adhesive tape and substance made. This simply is not a season I anticipated in any way.
I was always told that boys are so sweet. People told me that boys like to cuddle, hug, and love on their mom. That wasn’t a lie, but I do think it was an incomplete truth and definitely missing a warning. I wasn’t expecting to have to use wood glue so often. Instead of “I love you, Mom,” one of his first complete phrases was “I bloke it.”
Ben is incredibly sweet. He is kind, smart, and sensitive. So you never really see it coming when suddenly he is pulling books apart page by page or biting all the tops off of Nerf gun bullets. Those wooden KidKraft kitchens? They don’t stand a chance around this kid. Ours is rigged to appear stable and usable. He makes a complete mockery of wooden and plastic toys alike. When he was just a year old, we adopted a puppy in hopes that this would divert Ben’s destructive energy into running and playing with our very high-energy dog. That is not what happened. As it turns out, our dog is now a wild thing because she was essentially raised by our wild boy. He created an equal force of destruction by playing with her in the way he does. Together, they are an unstoppable wave of energy. They even destroy toys together. I have a nine-month-old boy who is watching this, and the thought that he might soon join forces with them has me bracing myself. Stocking up on super glue. Setting aside money for replacing windows, vases, pots, and furniture. Working on my inner zen.
I have no answers. We have tried many methods to channel that energy, to discipline, to teach, but the only thing I keep coming back to is “it’s just a season.” I did not write this because I found a solution in any way. And sometimes motherhood is just like that. So, my fellow mothers of wild things, I am open to hearing your stories and your advice if you happen to have any. And if you find yourself in a similar season, I wish you all the right kinds of glue and an extra bit of patience.
