Thursday, November 3, 2011

Attack of the Velcro Baby

It has been one of those days. My sweet little babies were both awake by 7:30 am. I got the Little Dude ready for school, grabbed myself a coffee at Dunkin, dropped the husband off at the Y and then drove myself and the little girl home for some relaxing "me time." Oh no, said she, no "me time" today.

The Little Girl decided that the only place for her would be on Mama's boob. All.day.long. Sometimes she'd doze and I'd think I could put her down in bed. I'd walk over to her playpen and get ready to lay her down when I then notice not one, but two damn cats in there. Bad kitties. Little girl senses my hesitation and hears the, "dammit, Amber and Amelia - get out!" and wakes up. Like, really awake.

We have a little conversation of coos and boogie-boogie-boos, then she'd insist on the boob again, doze again and wake up just as I was laying her down again.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. We did this all morning, until it was time to pick up the Little Dude at 12:30. Ahhh...she'll sleep in the car. Not so, she says. We pick up Daddy from the Y and I inform him that he'll be taking the little dude out for a nice walk, so mama can get the Little Girl to sleep again, lay her in bed and have a little "me time."

"Oh no, no 'me time' today," she says. Back to our dance of nursing, dozing, detaching attempts, waking, coos and boogie-boos. She finally falls into a heavy sleep. And so Little Dude and hubby come home. Little Dude wants mama. No "me time" today.

It's easy to get frustrated. I haven't showered today. I had cold coffee and, come to think of it, I never did pee. Apparently, I walked around the house with one boob out for over an hour before the husband decided to inform me. He thought I knew. Sigh. I feel like I'm still holding her in my arms even when I'm not. The frustration is there. A couple of deep sighs are just waiting to escape from my lungs, but naaaaaah. While these days sometimes get the better of me, I remember that they go by awfully fast. I remember when the Little Dude had velcro moments and I'd swear he would be attached to my boob until college. All of the sudden he grew up. He went from being a few months old to being 5 in a matter of days, I swear. My little baby boy who would cling to his Mama for hours now graces me with maybe 2 seconds worth of a hug. He's too busy being a superhero and constructing things out of blankets and furniture. The life of a 5 year old is very busy and their work is quite important. There isn't always time to snuggle Mama as that would get in the way of solving the problem of dinosaurs eating Lightening McQueen. So, I wait until he is asleep. I sit next to him on the bed and cradle as much of his sleepy little 5 year old self into my arms. And I remember the teeny tiny baby who I'd rock in one arm what seems like just a few days ago.

Remembering that, I try not to lose my cool with the Little Girl. Today she is 11 weeks. Tomorrow she will be 11 years and will be too busy doing important 11 year-old stuff to have a cuddle with Mama. By then, I'll miss the days of tiny babies in my arms, attached to my boob or spitting up on my shoulder. I'll wish I cherished those moments instead of loathing them. Cries for Mama and boob will be replaced with, "Oh My God, Mom! You're embarrassing me!" For now, I'll happily be the hook to their loop for as long as they need to be velcro babies and kids.

So my third entry for NaBloPoMo is done. I'm going to bid the computer goodnight and go snuggle my babies.

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