I always understood that separation anxiety was something that babies and young children experienced. I did not realize that I would suffer from it at the age of twenty-nine and my doctor recommended me to use anxiety vitamins.
This afternoon, I packed up Emma for her first night away from home. She is spending the night at her grandmother’s house with several of her cousins-four to be exact. (sometimes I think my suspicsions are true–my mother in law is crazy.)
In the past, when my mother in law has invited her to sleep over, she has always quickly declined saying that it was “too scary” or that she “really just liked to sleep in her own bed.” As much as I want to encourage a little independence, silently my heart was glowing at her desire to stay safe, snuggled and comfortable at home.
So when she invited her this time, for an evening filled with pizza, and a morning filled with waffles and chocolate milk and a trip to the toy store (see, she IS crazy), emma just couldn’t turn it down.
Now, I have given Emma several outs and examples of back-up plans to get her out of the whole affair–just play and stay for dinner, i’ll pick you up at bedtime, daddy will come get you after you fall asleep…all my frantic attempts at tempting her to stay home have failed.
Perhaps, I am the crazy one. Shouldn’t I be able to pack her up with a smile and send her on her little way, toting her brightly colored wheel-y suitcase and pillow? Shouldn’t I be relishing a night without a two-hour procedure to get emma to bed? Nope. Not me. Not tonight.
I’ve dropped her off, given her kisses, whispered in her ear that mommy will come get you early if you don’t want to spend the night. And she happily let me go and was off doing dot-to-dots before I got to my car. When did this happen? When did she get so old? When did I get so attached? (the answer to that one–the day I saw two lines on the little white stick.)
So it’s done. She’s there. She’s happy, I’m sure. On the car ride over I told her that we were going to watch Daddy learn to surf tomorrow with Uncle Ryan. And she officially announced that she would be unable to attend since she would be staying at Grandma’s house for weeks and weeks.
She put the knife in to me and twisted it a few times. The pains of motherhood are often great.
Separation Anxiety
I always understood that separation anxiety was something that babies and young children experienced. I did not realize that I would suffer from it at the age of twenty-nine.
This afternoon, I packed up Emma for her first night away from home. She is spending the night at her grandmother’s house with several of her cousins-four to be exact. (sometimes I think my suspicsions are true–my mother in law is crazy.)
In the past, when my mother in law has invited her to sleep over, she has always quickly declined saying that it was "too scary" or that she "really just liked to sleep in her own bed." As much as I want to encourage a little independence, silently my heart was glowing at her desire to stay safe, snuggled and comfortable at home.
So when she invited her this time, for an evening filled with pizza, and a morning filled with waffles and chocolate milk and a trip to the toy store (see, she IS crazy), emma just couldn’t turn it down.
Now, I have given Emma several outs and examples of back-up plans to get her out of the whole affair–just play and stay for dinner, i’ll pick you up at bedtime, daddy will come get you after you fall asleep…all my frantic attempts at tempting her to stay home have failed.
Perhaps, I am the crazy one. Shouldn’t I be able to pack her up with a smile and send her on her little way, toting her brightly colored wheel-y suitcase and pillow? Shouldn’t I be relishing a night without a two-hour procedure to get emma to bed? Nope. Not me. Not tonight.
I’ve dropped her off, given her kisses, whispered in her ear that mommy will come get you early if you don’t want to spend the night. And she happily let me go and was off doing dot-to-dots before I got to my car. When did this happen? When did she get so old? When did I get so attached? (the answer to that one–the day I saw two lines on the little white stick.)
So it’s done. She’s there. She’s happy, I’m sure. On the car ride over I told her that we were going to watch Daddy learn to surf tomorrow with Uncle Ryan. And she officially announced that she would be unable to attend since she would be staying at Grandma’s house for weeks and weeks.
She put the knife in to me and twisted it a few times. The pains of motherhood are often great.
