Velcro baby

I thought time would ease my son’s separation anxiety (I know it’s only been a week), but this morning things took a turn for the worse.  I was in the shower, and there was screaming.  But I wasn’t on the set of Psycho.  Rather, I was trying to get myself somewhat clean for work.  

But my son felt differently. He’d rather my hygiene be at risk. Apparently, not only can I not leave him in a room alone for one second. Even if I leave the glass door a crack open AND talk to him he still cries his eyes out.

He’s turned into velcro baby. (thank you Tiff)

He’s only quiet, smiley and happy if I have direct (touching) contact with him.  Being in his direct line of sight isn’t really good enough anymore.  Singing isn’t good enough either (damn you itsy bitsy spider!).  We need to connect, to attach ourselves to each other for him to function properly. 

This presents a problem: I looked terrible for work today. No, I mean seriously, my outfit was a wreck.  It’s terribly difficult to put yourself together when your baby is attached to you. You resign yourself to unmatching socks and boots covered in mud, just because they are sitting right there.  Earrings? Forget it.  Thank goodness for headbands!

Some of my friends think it’s cute.  And it is, to a certain point (the tugging at my pant leg did tug at my heart strings).  But when you can hear your son’s wailing over the hair dryer, you just feel bad.  Hopefully, like velcro, this will wear out over time.

Tags: working mom