Clingy Whiny Little Beast

Remember when I said the 2nd time around mother's always baby their youngest, hoping to prolong that easy stage prior to toddler-hood. Well I'm officially done babying Gregory. He's annoying the shit out of me this week as he enters into that clingy toddler phase, what the books call separation anxiety. What does an 11 1/2 month old have to be anxious about? He doesn't have to cook, clean, pay bills, or worry about his belly, muffin topping over his jeans. Whatever it is, it's serious enough that if I even glance at the door he immediately starts crying. It was endearing and cute and made me feel wanted for the first couple of days. But now simply leaving the room to pee, get my shoes, make him a bottle, or to cook dinner, he crawls after me, wailing. Then he sits at my feet, still crying, pulling at my pant leg like a sad, lost, hungry puppy. Is it wrong to want to kick a puppy?

Fortunately, my mother in law arrived last week to spend some time with the kids, help out with all of the pre-Thanksgiving madness, and of course to give me a break. For those of you who don't know, I love my mother in law. Most people have MIL issues or horror stories of some kind. Amazingly, my journal and blog are void of this topic.

When Charlie was born I was in seriously bad shape, both physically and mentally - mourning the loss of my former independent life where I could come and go as I pleased; mourning the death of my father who passed away 10 days prior to Charlie's birth; mourning the loss of my body and perky boobs. My mother in law arrived at our house and asked, "What can I do?" How about you take the baby for a month while I jet off to Mexico to sit on a beach and drink margaritas till I bleed tequila. She said she would do anything but. Well, if you're going to be that unreasonable, then clean my bathroom! She promptly went out, bought herself some rubber gloves and scrubbed the hell out of my toilet, floor and shower. From that point on, I've never held back on telling her what I need her to do to make my life easier.

Her task this visit was to wake up with the kids so I could get a little rest and restore some of my sanity. She said, "Okay." I mean, it takes a special kind of relationship where you can tell someone (who is not your own mother) who has taken time off of work to come to CA for vacation that she's going to be waking up at the crack of ass every morning to care for 2 energetic, willful boys.

My hopes and dreams of sleeping in past 5:30 or going to the gym were dashed day 1. Gregory refused to go to her, or to anyone else for that matter. My mother in law got out of bed yesterday morning to change and feed him, it was 5:30. This boy who loves his bottle more than his own mother, refused to take it from his grandmother. He cried and cried till I dragged my bitter butt out of bed at 5:50.

Selfish, selfish, selfish children. Don't they know this is my chance; my chance to revive, to put that spring back in my step? They clearly do not have my best interest at heart. My husband gave me some unsolicited (read; unwanted) advice. "Before you know it, your kids aren't even going to want to talk to you, let alone be in the same room with you. You should enjoy this time." Gee honey, that's just what I need, a fresh dose of perspective. While I get the point, 7 years is a long fucking time to wait, especially with a whiny dog pulling at your pant leg, monitoring your every move.