I never thought I’d hear those words from my little Mama’s boy. Much to my chagrin (and even embarrassment), I’ve been hearing them lately — a lot. I know I shouldn’t let my feelings be hurt by this current phase, but I just can’t help it. Objectively I know it is totally normal and healthy for him to adore his dedicated daddy who felt unappreciated for so long. I guess it’s my turn to feel unappreciated now. He is 2 (Sam, not Daddy), and I am 40, which should make me more mature than him and infinitely more understanding and wise. But feelings aren’t always terribly rational, especially the negative ones that gnaw away at you or kick you right in the stomach, almost knocking the wind out of you.
I’ll confess to you another tidbit. This one is worse and even more embarrassing. He has even said, “No Mommy!” Is the child that I carried for nine months (ten, really) to whom I dedicated the last two and a half years of my life out-and-out rejecting me? Is he a mini-teenager or what?
Of course, things change come Monday morning. When I drop the little stinker off at preschool, the carpool person practically needs the jaws of life to pry him out of the car. He practically hyperventilates at the though of being separated from me for three hours. And of course I feel so sad for him and wait until his little head disappears into the school before I bolt, just in case he wants one last look at Mommy. Or maybe I am the one hoping for one last look at him.
Sanity returns. FREEDOM washes over me like a tidal wave, too huge and awesome to comprehend. Off I go to zip around — to work out, shop, and return some junk I bought the last time he was at preschool. Ten minutes later, I realize that I am still listening to Veggie Tales and sheepishly put in the Barenaked Ladies. And before I know it, I am looking at my watch, counting the minutes until I can squeeze my little man and present him with his favorite “Chick Delay” nuggets. As I pull up in the carpool line, there is the best sight in the world waiting for me — the beaming smile on his face as he practically pulls his teacher over to the car. His teacher often comments, “He asked for you a lot, but we were able to distract him.” I admit it, I can’t help beaming like a big ole goofball, too.
I guess it’s OK if he likes Daddy more on the weekend. Just one trip through the carpool line more than makes up for it.
LibbY