Child Development 101
Ok, all you mavens of child development, can you tell me what happens when a baby hits 8 months? It’s quiz time!
I can tell you. Oh how I can tell you.
There’s this thing, and it’s called separation anxiety. We do not like it Sam I am. We do not like it We do not like it on a boat. We do not like it with a goat.
I put down my once calm, independent baby and he shrieks. I turn my face from my once sweet boy and he has hysterics. I leave him in his high chair for two seconds and the world comes to an end.
This thing called separation anxiety is exhausting.
Even worse, the deluge is still pouring out of the sky, which meant Mike’s commuter train had to go s-s-s-s-s-super s-s-s-s-s-s-s-low to make sure it didn’t hit any wash outs, trees or other fun flash flood type surprises. Total commute time home? Three hours! Fun for him, fun for me, fun for the screaming baby.
I suppose stranger anxiety will hit right when we are in Oregon and no one will believe me when I tell them I have the world’s best baby.
The stranger anxiety hasn’t hit yet. Today we met up with a different mother group for the first time and he went right to the different women. Too bad not a single one of them could deign to say more than a rather uncivil hello to me, even though I put on my best “pretend I’m fabulous” attitude and tried to be a decent human being. If I would have had some snow-cone flavorings I could have poured it over their shoulders and had an ice cold treat. Cold shoulders. Brrrrrrr. I won’t be going to any activities with that group again. I had a longer conversation with a random woman sitting next to me (all of three lines) than with the group. It made me appreciate my other group even more, drama and all. Everyone has always been super-friendly even if I am cynical and question the friendliness at times.
And now I’m off to dreamland. It has been one exhausting day around here. I need to get out my child development book and re-read the info on separation anxiety. I can’t take much more of the clinginess. This is not a good time for him to decide to cling. I have even less patience than normal and I’m not exactly known for my wealth of forbearance. I know I’ve said this every month since his birth, but DANG are my cramps bad. This morning I thought I was in labor. I couldn’t figure out how I could possibly be getting ready to give birth, but I knew I was in dire need of an epidural.