Mama go

With his sacred dump trunk

We noticed Nate was a little out of sorts this afternoon. Every time I left the room (e.g. to run down and switch laundry), he would chant, "Mama go? Mama go?" anxiously until I returned.

Just going to the bathroom (oh long-lost sanctuary), would cause a panic attack. A couple times, it ended in heartfelt sobs and snotty tears.

At one point, while Nate screamed (because I was selfishly trying to lift a double mattress up the stairs instead of holding him), Chris looked at me and asked, "What is with this guy today??"

At bedtime, I found the answer.

We did the usual routine, he was in his bed snuggly, but when I left the room, it was, "Mama?? Mama?!! MAMA GO?!!!"

After a couple returns for reassurance, I left him for a bit (so I could clean the bathtub - oh, my life of glamour!). I'm really trying to find a balance between meeting needs and kids who expect their every whim met.

But the crying was wrong. It was legit and then it was hysterical. So I went back and met wide-eyed terror, "Mama go??"

I explained the virtues of a clean bathroom. He listened intently and then asked, "Mimi go?" I explained his sister's whereabouts (dancing in the playroom). "Dada go?" I described Chris's expected location.

And then ...

"Boppa go?" "Jimmy go?" "Gandma go?"

Ahhhhhh. In a world where people can suddenly disappear, can suddenly be there one day reading you books and kissing your neck and then be gone without a trace, how scary it must be to think it could happen to your own dear Mama.

So much of parenting is winging it ("offroading" I call it) and I've never liked improv. Just when you think you know what you're doing, things change and you don't notice and you misread the signs and you screw it up and everyone is more miserable than they need to be.

But once in a while, you get it right. With a flash, you understand how to meet their needs and make it all better.

So I got a magazine (I'm loving Brain Child!) and sat in the chair in Nate's room in the semi-darkness. The bathroom could wait. Every couple minutes he looked over anxiously to check that I was still there. "Mama go?"

I told him that I wasn't going anywhere. Eventually, he heaved a big sigh, rolled over and was out.

Tomorrow we start the first full day with our new nanny. I'll be at a workshop from 9-5, the longest work day I've had since Nate was born. It runs three full days.

Sometimes you can't choose the timing. You just do what you can to try and make sure their cup is full.