From Hugs to Fist bumps
When my boys were little, I couldn’t get enough hugs and kisses. I nuzzled their little faces so much it’s a miracle they kept their baby soft skin. I love hugging my boys. But, as they have grown older so many of those hugs are replaced by quick high fives and fist bumps. Add the lack of physical contact caused by COVID and you have a Mama with serious hug deprivation. I’m keenly aware of that shift in their affections with age. I’ve noticed how my reaction to them shifts in tune as I feel both the need to reel them close or kick them out of the proverbial nest.
Push and Pull
I want my boys to become independent and self assured. But, there is also that part of me that wants to protect them from the world and the challenges life can bring. This dicotomy often leads to mixed signals. “You’re fine. Just go on. You can do this.” Words which were shortly followed by; “wait, hold my hand.” “You need to have an adult with you.” It’s this strange dance you do with them of pushing them into the world and then pulling them back in when they venture too far.
Well my dancing shoes are working overtime with my three sons. I’m trying to lean into my ever growing teenager who is stepping further away from the dance floor. I’m searching for the rhythm while my twelve year old struggles to find his own. And, I gently press for space from my nine year old who needs to see his own dance space from mine I don’t know why this suddenly took a ballroom turn, but it best describes the different phases they are each in. Having three boys really lays out the steps toward independence in a clear spectrum.
The Cuddle Bug
My youngest is my cuddle bug. The Oedipus force is strong with this one. My husband and I still get the hug block. He will shove his head between us and blare out “me too”. Cue boundary setting time. I get my hug tank filled with him. He’s quick to grab my hand or squeeze me as he presses his head to my side. He never hesitates to give me a kiss or snuggle against me on the couch.
While most days I relish in how affectionate he is, there are times when the extra cuddles just feel like more stimulus to an overly stimulated brain. I am in need of static guard to cut down on the cling. This thought is usually followed by a heavy dose of mom guilt. I lament that time is flying by so quickly, so this translates to the following mixed message; “Mama needs some quiet time, but wait, oh come here” as I grab him in a tight hug.
Caught in Between
My middle man is 12 and luckily still comes for hugs before bed. But, somewhere between his initiation of the hug and the delivery, his brain tells him to abort. I lean over to plant my kiss to his face, and instead I find myself with a mouth full of smelly hair. “Didn’t you shower buddy?” “uh, huh” “Did you wash your hair?” “No” And, just like that your cuddle moment transitions to a gentle recap of basic hygiene.
In the morning, I grab him for a quick hug, hoping his brain is too sleepy to register. Sometimes I’m lucky and he sort of dissolves lazily into my arms. If not, he stiffens and says “Mama” with a tone of mock annoyance. His arms reach up to embrace me but remain outstretched to the sides like a scarecrow. While his body language is resistant, his face lights up as a smile spreads across his face. I can tell he’s caught between the little boy that wants to grab me back and the awkward teen that feels a bit grossed out by hugging mom.
Going in for the Approach
My oldest is 15 and seems slightly allergic to my Mama cuddles. He seems fine when my husband goes in for a hug. But, it’s not exactly a hug with the two of them. It looks more like a side bump that morphs into an odd wrestle. It usually ends with loud slaps on the back or my husband contorting him into a pretzel while my son laughs with an oddly deep and manly voice.
When I approach my 15 year old, I literally act like I’m a small prop plane going in for my landing. I reach my arms out wide, signal with my face that I NEED to hold him for just a sec. Only my runway often turns and walks away. I drop my arms nonchalantly as if I had just mistakenly waved at someone that was waving to someone else behind me. I try to act as if it’s no big deal so as not to pressure him but internally I want to cry.
Playing it Cool
I shared this with my husband a while back. He said, “you can’t go in like you’re going in for the hug. Try the side hug and then just grab him. Just be cool.” Yeah, just be cool, I think. Without a cool bone in my body, I strategically plan my sneak approach. I try side stepping into him hoping that, like with my husband, it will morph into some version of a hug. But of course, my son sees this coming a mile away. He looks at me like I have three heads and says “what are you doing?” Rule number one, don’t tell the teenager you are going in for a hug, unless of course you want them to retreat to their room. Hmmm…I might need to remember that the next time Mama needs a break from said teenager.
Less Cuddles More Conversation
As the cuddles have decreased the deep and mature conversations have grown. I love going on walks with him. It’s as if the subtle movement opens him up and I get access to the boy he was and the man he’s growing to be. When we talk, I feel more connected to him than ever as his maturity gives us so many more topics to explore together. It’s in these moments that I unconsciously step into his side for a hug. Unfortunately, my hug deprivation often leads to me taking a deep sigh and rolling toward him. I lean my head on his shoulder and comment on how big he is getting. That’s when I manage to kill the moment and he says “ok, um this is awkward.” I try to hide my disappointment and say “Sorry, it’s a mom thing. You were saying?”
Walking the Tightrope
It’s so strange when I look at the progression of our hugs. Our kids teeter on the tightrope of independence and codependence. I see myself wanting to encourage my youngest to let go of my hand while simultaneously wanting my teenager to take it for just a moment. My middle man teeters in both directions as I hope to keep my balance. I don’t want them to “need” me but I want them to be receptive. I still strive to cushion the blows that life will undoubtedly give. Hopefully my “motherly wisdom” will do just that. I’m reminding myself how each time I fell, I was able to pick myself up on my own. Ultimately those were the times that made me so much stronger.
So, I will savor hugging my boys and tell them how much I love them when hugs aren’t on the menu. If affection comes in sharing a meme or telling me about their favorite TV show; I will take it and wrap myself up in their virtual hug. I will send them into this world with as much knowledge as I can share. And, trust that they are capable of picking themselves back up when they fall down. I’m feeling more nostalgic as each boy steps further into his own independence. Fortunately, I can grab my husband for a hug every time I’m missing theirs. I hope he’s ready, because this hug plane is about to land.
Mama Chronicles shares stories and anecdotes of my experiences as a Mom of 3 boys. Their antics make me laugh and their intuitive insight takes my breath away. Their pain and sadness hits me deeper than I thought possible. Watching them fall and get back up again is both cringe worthy and inspiring. And of course, they tempt me to rip my hair out and run naked down the street… because they can literally drive me to madness. I will shamelessly brag, open up wounds in the cathartic hope for healing, and I will vent. I don’t write this with the intent to share motherly wisdom but as a way to feel connected or relatable to other moms out there doing the best that they can.
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