The Teeter Totter of Brotherly Love

(Note: Before I begin my newest rant, I must preempt it with this. Today’s world is a scary place and there are privacy issues, disturbed people lurking everywhere, and a resulting paranoia in every parent’s mind. Therefore, I won’t be using the boys’ real names in this space. I’m sure that if someone really wanted to do the legwork, dig up their names, and what town we live in, etc. it would be easy enough. My hopes are that it would never come to that. Instead I’ll use their family nicknames.

My two year old is called Chops. Since his first teeth started popping in when he was about four months old, one of his Aunties starting calling him that after a boy on Paris Hilton’s "The Simple Life" who had an incredible smile. Chops takes after my dad’s side of the family, with his notoriously big, gummy, Irish smile. To me, Chops has the purest, most joyful smile...even when he’s up to no good and that grin is dripping with mischief.

My second son earned his nickname while he was still kicking around in my belly. Since Chops couldn’t pronounce ‘Brother’ when he was that young, he started calling my belly ‘Bubba’ and the name has stuck ever since. Bubba is such a fitting name for my little man. I’ve always imagined someone called Bubba to be a somewhat hefty kind of guy, whose build rivals the most solid of linebackers. And that is exactly what he is, even at nine months old.

Well, this could have been an entry all by itself...but now that I have the whole situation of names cleared up...on to what I really want to talk about. Oh, and by the way, since my husband doesn’t really have a nickname and I’m not too concerned he’ll be abducted or otherwise harassed, I’ll just use his real name.)

Ahem. I called this the teeter totter of brotherly love. You probably know what is coming. Since Bubba is newly mobile, crawling circles around the house and beginning to pull himself onto furniture, the sibling rivalry in the household is escalating. I knew it was coming, and in fact, it was already well established. Before Bubba was physically able to chase down big brother and scam on his dump trucks and hot wheels, Chops was already snatching bottles and baby toys away from him, or trying to drag Mama away as well. The reason I haven’t gone completely gray (only partially between color touch-ups, thank you very much) is that these daily battles are balanced out by the moments of love and play too.

This is the nature of my days. A melting pot of delightful cackles and shrieks of frustration and fury from the wrestling rink. (I mean, from the floor) The boys clutching hands and cooing at each other one minute, then the sounds of skin slapping, heads crashing into piles of toys, brotherly punches, and then more shrieks. One morning Chops and Bubba actually took turns pushing trucks to each other across the room and I ran to grab my camera, only to return to catch Chops snatching the truck from Bubba’s chubby palms with his trademark brotherly war cry, reducing poor Bubba to tears.

One of the sweeter moments was when Chops begged me to let him play in Bubba’s crib. I laid the boys next to each other with their respective blankies. For close to fifteen minutes, the boys giggled, passed toys back and forth and actually HELD HANDS. I thought I would die of total adoration. Yet, I am well aware of the day, not too far off on the horizon, when Bubba will dare to fight back. Maybe it would by wise to have Robbie build a boxing rink in the middle of our front room, buy a couple sets of boxing gloves and a referee whistle, and just let them go at it. There is no way to prevent the inevitable. At least they would have the protective gear and there would be no permanent damage.

Their relationship is like the manic mood swings of a bipolar brain, right now tipped more towards the angry/depressed/crazy side. But then there will be these moments of total beauty, like when you see a patch of vivid purple wildflowers on a smoggy Bay Area highway. And it is those moments that get me through the day, that get me looking forward to more of the moments as they learn more words, learn sports and games, and generally become the best of friends (and the worst of enemies). Hopefully by that point, the scale will be tipped the other way where the brotherly love will outweigh the battles. Instead of a congested highway with small spots of beauty, their world will be an incredible garden with a few pesky weeds needing to be plucked now and then.