As mentioned a few weeks ago, I have officially become a single mom. This change in status not only comes with a slew of complex emotions and sadly, hairier legs, but also an onslaught of incessant mommy guilt…. which, as a working parent, who happens to work in the world of parenting, it can feel a little overwhelming. So, with a 2.5 year old little boy, my sensitivity level to what might ultimately eff him up for life (due to said divorce) is at an all time high…
That said, I think it’s gone too far and Baby-Ko knows it. The kid is playing me. He hears the guilt in my voice every time I say “no” (and then give in). He senses my worry that he may have issues some day as a result of the divorce every time he begs for “one more minute” (and then I give in). He sees the stress of a difficult year on my face every time he chucks my phone across the room (…. and I do nothing about it).
He’s on to me. He’s got me hook, line and sinker. Dialed in. Putty in his hands….
And he’s starting to take advantage.
Please refer to recent events, if you will:
For a week or so, right before lights out, Baby-Ko would turn over in his bed and say,
“Mommy, I want my dadddddddy.”
Gulp. “I’m so sorry. I, I, I— I know. It’s okay,” I said trying to hide the knife ripping my aorta. “Okay, my love. Mommy’s here. Let me pat your tushy.” (Yes, he likes his tushy patted.)
But, one minute turned into 5 minutes. 5 minutes turned in to 10 minutes. And 10 minutes turned in to missing 30 Rock, Lost, and Baby-Ko never having to sit in a shopping cart at the market for the rest of the week.
Surely, you didn’t think ME working in the world of parenting meant *I* actually know what I’m doing, did you???
About a week later… before lights out….
“Mommy, I want my daddddddy.”
“I know you want your daddy. I’m sorry you have sad feelings. We’ll call him in the morning.”
“But I sad.”
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” I said trying not to think about the therapy fund that I should have set up for him in utero. “It’s time to go night night, Baby-Ko. Go night night…”
…And eventually, with more tushy patting then a Major League Baseball Game, he fell asleep.
It took a few more nights, but then it hit. I got it ….
“Mommy, I just. I just so sad.”
“Why are you so sad?”
“Because, because, I just. I just miss my daaaadddy.”
“I know you miss your daddy. We’ll call him in the morning. It’s night night time.”
“But, but. I just so sad.”
“Why are you so sad?”
“Because, because, I just. I just miss my Mimi.” (Mimi is my mom. His grandma. A woman he sees about 4 TIMES a week.)
“Okay, baby. We’ll call Mimi in the morning. Go night night.”
“But, but, I just so sad, mommy!” He said dramatically.
“Why. Why are you sad, Baby-Ko?” I asked trying to be patient.
“Because, because, I just. I just miss my Ash-a-wee.” Um…. (Ash-a-wee is his babysitter. A woman he sees about 5 TIMES a week…. And had left just 2 hours prior.)
“Oooo-kay, Baby-Ko. I know you miss Ash-a-wee. Let’s go to bed. Mommy is going out of here now,” I said as I turned to the door.
“Mommy! Wait!” He screamed.
“WHY. ARE. YOU. SAD?” I said doing my absolute best to exude patience.
“Because, because, I just. I just miss my sisters….”
“Yeah. My sisters. I so sad.”
“Good night, Baby-Ko,” I said holding in my laugh and patting his tushy one last time before I left the room.
That night my only child slept through the night. And I finally caught on to him AND caught up on Lost.