My Three Sons

No, grandmas, before you get too excited - we are NOT expecting again. Today's blog is dedicated to my "third son", Big Lovey. Who, some of you may ask, is Big Lovey? In the most primitive sense, Big Lovey is a square of soft fabric that is lined in satin with a bunny head attached. To Cade, Big Lovey is part pillow, part confidante, part one-man cheerleading squad. To appreciate the significance of Big Lovey, you have to understand the Inner Workings of Cade.

Cade has never been much of a snuggler. Even as a tiny baby, he would nurse heartily and then pull away in repulsion, as if to say, "I've eaten my fill, woman, now get off me!" As a three year old, he informed me just last week that there was no need for me to kiss him goodnight as "Daddy already kissed me". How sensible of you, Cade - no sense overdosing on affection. Jeez. On rare occasions, Cade will bestow a kiss on your cheek. When we tried to teach him to "hug", his answer to hugging was to extend his forehead so that we could plant a kiss on it. When we tried to teach him about hugging "with your arms", he went so far as to extend his forearm so that you could plant a kiss on it. Cade is just not, to say the least, the most demonstrative guy on the planet.

But his love for Big Lovey knows no bounds. Big Lovey was carefully selected by Cade from the hundreds of lovey options we received as gifts when he was a baby. In true first child fashion, Cade had only the softest and most deluxe pleasantly textured blankets and stuffed animals at his disposal. How he came to identify with a square with a rabbit head as the Chosen One, I will never understand.

At first, we were so disciplined with Big Lovey. He never left the confines of the crib and was content to be Cade's sleeping companion. Aaron and I were so proud of ourselves for fostering healthy attachment object attitudes by allowing Cade to have one for comfort, but not becoming one of "those" parents, frantically backtracking across all of Target looking for the precious misplaced object of obsession.

And then along came Drew and all bets were off. Suddenly, in the name of comfort and convenience, Big Lovey was everywhere. Outside the crib. In the car. At the mall. When we lost Big Lovey at the mall and found ourselves frantically backtracking in search of him (wait! didn't we swear we would never do this!), I knew it was time to bring in the Big Lovey reinforcements. I called Cade's grandma, who tracked down her friend that had purchased Big Lovey as a gift, who then tracked down the lady who made Big Lovey, and quickly placed an order for her to send a duplicate. Unfortunately, the fabric used to make Big Lovey was purchased on clearance and she had used it all, so she sent a duplicate that was similar but not the same. And so we welcomed Lovey Doo-Waa (Lovey Junior, as Cade called him) into our home, not as a replacement but as a companion. The next thing we knew, Big Lovey AND Lovey Doo-Waa were accompanying us all over town. And Mom's brilliant plan backfires once again.

In the meantime, Big Lovey was keeping insane hours and getting pretty tattered from trying to keep up with Cade. I found myself frequently stepping on his "fingers" (the two corners of the square below his head) because he was discarded everywhere from the kitchen floor to our garage to the playground. Big Lovey's head started to become detached and my plan was to just let it fall off and let Big Lovey die a natural death. But my gracious and loving babysitter Ninny (a grandmotherly type figure sent to our family directly from heaven) intervened, bringing her needle and thread from home to sew it back on, per Cade's request. And yes, I did feel like the world's crappiest mom that day, thanks for asking.

Most recently, Big Lovey has developed an affinity for hide and seek. Sometimes it is the microwave of the play kitchen. Sometimes it's the tiny Dr. Seuss wastebasket in Cade's room. Sometimes he hangs out between the sofa cushions and the back of the sofa. Other times it's the rocket ship playhouse. If I have been late to meet you anytime in the past 6 months, it is Big Lovey's fault.

Earlier this week, I had finally had enough. After buckling the boys into their car seats and doing a frantic search for Big Lovey (coming up empty-handed once again), I told Cade that we were late and would have to go without Big Lovey. I informed him that I had enough trouble getting two boys and my purse to the car - if he wanted to bring Big Lovey, he would have to be responsible for brining him himself. Cade sobbed, "No mommy! You have three boys! You HAVE to bring Big Lovey too! You can't leave your boy behind!" And that is the story of how I became the mother of Big Lovey Fox.