Tuesday, October 11, 2005
The End of Routine
Up until a little over a week ago, the boss and I had a fairly easy working relationship. He'd take his morning bottle while cuddling beside me under a heap of cozy blankets, and we'd both drift back to sleep until the sun was high enough in the sky to be called morning, rather than dawn. We'd meander down the stairs, pausing to giggle for a quick game of peek-a-boo in the hallway mirror, and then I'd click on the news and set him in his walker to follow me as I went about my morning routine. Coffee. Breakfast. Shake up another bottle for him. Tie my hair back in a bumpy ponytail, tucking rebel strands behind my ears while stirring yellow packets of sweetener into my mug. All the while, he'd be rolling behind me; shaking a magazine stolen from the coffee table and occasionally whimpering at the sight of his bottle on the counter.

We'd move back to the living room - swap the magazine in his fist for the bottle - change the news to a classical music station and we'd be off.

It was a lovely routine. I could sit at the laptop, looking out over the lake, sipping coffee while my fingers hovered over the keys, and he'd be quietly drinking his bottle and staring intently at the cat sitting curled on the couch or the knick-knacks just beyond his reach on the credenza.

That phase is over.

The new phase will from now on be referred to as the "if-you-even-so-much-as-take-two-steps-away-from-me-I-will-scream-bloody-murder" phase. He has been literally attached to my hip, or screaming about wanting to be so, for a solid week now. I'll leave him to do dishes or run a washcloth over the table, and he'll turn himself purple from crying. Once I pick him up, he calms down, sniffles for a few moments and curls into me, resting his warm little head under my chin and all is forgiven.

I know that separation anxiety is a perfectly normal stage for babies to go through; but part of me can't help but wonder if this might be something more; if perhaps he senses the change in me and is reacting accordingly. Just prior to my miscarriage he was acting similarly, very cuddly, very attached - and within a week of our loss, he settled back into himself. And now, here we are again. Only this time, it's more intense. It's purple-faced-rage, and it's his desperate little fists clinging to my clothing if I try to hand him over to his grandmother.

Either way...the result is very I have little time for creative endeavors, and a very sore lower back from shifting his twenty-plus pound little body from hip to hip.

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2 Comments:

Blogger nanciesweb said...

Some kids are worse than others when it comes to separation anxiety. My son was just like that. Getting housework done was almost impossible.

My second was so much easier. I could have left her anywhere.

My third was in between the two. She was pretty good when I was around, but if I left she would cry for a while.

It supposed to "peak" around 18 months or so. My son peaked around there, but my youngest daughter peaked around 12 months. By the time she was 18 months, I could leave her anywhere without a problem.

There is the possibility that he senses the change. We had a major move before my son became severely attached. So maybe...

Blogger Neo said...

Mella - Wow, sounds like alot of hard work, and your hands are full!

Kinda makes me glad I don't have kids. I have lots of friends that have kids, and I see a similar pattern with their little ones.

Nancy is right, it's a stage they go through, and eventually they'll settle down.

Ok, my Dr. Phil moment of the day.

Try getting a hot bath with ebson salt for your back. (When you can find some time)

Hope that helps.

Peace

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