Hey, remember me?
I feel like a rejected schoolgirl whose boyfriend's buddy just handed me a note saying that he was breaking up with me. It's Will. He doesn't seem to remember that I was his first love.
I can barely get his eye contact anymore. I have to practically beg him to eat, unless it is food from a jar. When I hold him, he is taking his chubby little hand and using it as leverage -- leverage to push me away, to get into the real world of carpet, electrical cords, things that tip over, and small children.
This could very well be the fault of those small children. The daycare kids, that is. They are so mature. They do things like walk, run, hop, make farting noises, fart, scream, blow raspberries with total efficiency, grab toys, wrestle each other, and have extremely fascinating tantrums.
His eyes are like saucers while he watches all of this and takes mental notes. How could a loving cuddle, a soft boob, and protective arms possibly compete?
Maybe this wouldn't be so hard for me to deal with if Charlie hadn't been such a lover at this age. Sure, he wanted to crawl and get into things, but I was truly the light of his life. I received constant gummy smiles and coos. He cried anytime I put him down. Screamed, actually. Not only did he hate his crib, but he hated to sleep anywhere that wasn't in my arms. And although I complained about his lack of independence, how I wish I could revisit those days with my second son.
So here is my love note to Will.
Dear Will,
Remember me?
Remember resting your heavy head on my shoulder, grabbing a strand of my hair, and sighing as you fell off to sleep? Remember nursing in the rocking chair? Remember thinking that I actually had a good voice as I sang "Twinkle Twinkle?" Remember life before you could see those fascinating little brats (your brother included), and the only thing you could focus on were my beautiful brown eyes, perfectly straight teeth, and loving smile? Would you like to revisit those days? Like, how about right now?
I'll be waiting for you in 5 minutes on the couch with a blankie. You can stop on by. Or not. I don't really care. I'll sing you a song if you want, or let you bite down on my pinky finger, or whatever. But if you take too long, like more than 10 minutes, I might get busy with something else. So you better come, or I might not be available later.
Yes I will.
Love forever,
Mom.
I feel like a rejected schoolgirl whose boyfriend's buddy just handed me a note saying that he was breaking up with me. It's Will. He doesn't seem to remember that I was his first love.
I can barely get his eye contact anymore. I have to practically beg him to eat, unless it is food from a jar. When I hold him, he is taking his chubby little hand and using it as leverage -- leverage to push me away, to get into the real world of carpet, electrical cords, things that tip over, and small children.
This could very well be the fault of those small children. The daycare kids, that is. They are so mature. They do things like walk, run, hop, make farting noises, fart, scream, blow raspberries with total efficiency, grab toys, wrestle each other, and have extremely fascinating tantrums.
His eyes are like saucers while he watches all of this and takes mental notes. How could a loving cuddle, a soft boob, and protective arms possibly compete?
Maybe this wouldn't be so hard for me to deal with if Charlie hadn't been such a lover at this age. Sure, he wanted to crawl and get into things, but I was truly the light of his life. I received constant gummy smiles and coos. He cried anytime I put him down. Screamed, actually. Not only did he hate his crib, but he hated to sleep anywhere that wasn't in my arms. And although I complained about his lack of independence, how I wish I could revisit those days with my second son.
So here is my love note to Will.
Dear Will,
Remember me?
Remember resting your heavy head on my shoulder, grabbing a strand of my hair, and sighing as you fell off to sleep? Remember nursing in the rocking chair? Remember thinking that I actually had a good voice as I sang "Twinkle Twinkle?" Remember life before you could see those fascinating little brats (your brother included), and the only thing you could focus on were my beautiful brown eyes, perfectly straight teeth, and loving smile? Would you like to revisit those days? Like, how about right now?
I'll be waiting for you in 5 minutes on the couch with a blankie. You can stop on by. Or not. I don't really care. I'll sing you a song if you want, or let you bite down on my pinky finger, or whatever. But if you take too long, like more than 10 minutes, I might get busy with something else. So you better come, or I might not be available later.
Yes I will.
Love forever,
Mom.
posted by Andrea at 10:37 AM
3 Comments:
I'm already feeling that way about M and he's only 14 months old! He just doesn't seem to need me as much, and he never even had separation anxiety. EVER. What's up with that? Do you think it's cuz he never went to daycare and he's been with the grandparents the whole time? I think he still should have SOME separation anxiety when we leave, but he doesn't have ANY. In fact, he waves and smiles at us as we leave him with grandpa in the morning. WTF?
Ok, first off, the fact that he doesn't cry when you leave means that he LOVES the people you are leaving him with. So good job there. You don't really want an insecure baby, trust me! Second, I have READ SOME OF YOUR BLOG POSTS where you wrote (some months ago) that M would feel so sad when you would leave him with your hubby, about how he would turn his head to watch you go and reach for you... you just don't remember it!! So he did have sep. anxiety.
It's hard... we want them to want and need us, but it is also hard if they are insecure and miserable.
Charlie needs me but freaks out whenever we leave him, and it feels awful. Will will be just the opposite! He'll have a party as we are backing out of the driveway, I can see it now.
RR: you're right. M does have separation anxiety when I hand him over to the hubby in the evenings when he's tired. BUT this is not the type of separation anxiety I'm talking about. I want to see him clinging to me for dear life when we drop him off in the mornings. I want to see a few tears and maybe even a wail or two. Is that so much to ask? But I do see your point. He probably is just really comfortable with my parents so that is good. I guess.
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