A Toddler's Grudge

Is there anything worse than rejection? OK, maybe a frontal lobotomy but I swear that's all. Rejection is a tough pill to swallow. Agreed? As if rejection in and of itself isn't sucktacular enough,  it's felt much more sharply when it comes from someone you adore. Didn't get asked to dinner with friends? Crappy. Didn't get the dream job? Terrible. Asked someone out and got the cold shoulder? Awkward. Tried to hug your kid and he smacked you in the face? Well, I can assure you that the latter is the worst.

Simon's been putting me through the ringer since I've gone back to work. If he was a cat, he'd have pissed in my shoes by now. He's blatantly, and without apology, favouring Tim. When he's fallen down and scraped his knee, he'll push me away and bury his face in Tim's lap to cry. When Tim and Owen ducked out this evening for a quick errand, Simon clutched his little shoes and sobbed at the door; devastated to be left behind. I crouched behind him, softly asking if he needed a hug. Know what I got? I got the hairy eyeball and a sticky palm shoved against my face. He angrily shook his head 'no' and stomped his feet. I gaped at him, stunned, and retreated to the kitchen without him. 

What's a mama to do? I wanted to cry, I wanted to scoop him up and force some sugar on him. "Oh, you're gonna hug me, kiddo and you're gonna like it!!!" Once Simon was in bed, I did what we all do when we have no idea what the **** is happening. I started Googling. What a dangerous hobby! That search engine has single-handedly convinced me that I was having a brain aneurysm. My intelligent sister-in-law once convinced herself that her baby had cerebral palsy and he doesn't...thanks a lot, Google. I braced myself for the worst. I readied myself to read that we had deep-rooted attachment problems and that Simon would suffer a lifetime of mama-drama and wet the bed till he was 30. I started wondering what therapy would cost 20 years from now, factoring in inflation. You'll never guess what I discovered-this nonsense is normal. Even Google, the bearer of all things grim, told me so. Apparently, children go through phases of favouring one parent over the other. It's possible that Owen went through this, to a lesser degree, and I don't even remember it.  I've been assured, by Google, that my turn for affection is nearing. Till then, I'll be reading a magazine in the corner while Tim juggles diaper changes and bath time. I'll wait patiently for the tides to turn. I'll keep offering up the snuggles and I'll do my damndest to hide the sting I feel when he snubs me. I'll dance a little jig when the mama hating comes to an end and I'll squeeze the sweet bejesus out of him the next time he scrapes his knee. Now, how long can a toddler hold a grudge?

Comments

  1. SusanSeptember 23, 2012 at 4:07 AM

    Enjoy the "me" time while you have it! Before long all they will want is Mom and you'll be squeezing the crap out of them! And wishing they would want Tim secretly.

    ReplyDelete

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