Chopped Liver

In some respects, motherhood brings out qualities you didn't know you possessed, like patience, skill at using your forearms to hold down a squirming, furious child who would rather dive head-first off the changing table than let you open his diaper, or the ability to use a bathroom while still wearing a baby in a Bjorn dangling from your chest. But it also unearths a few ugly things now and again, and I'm grappling with one of mine now: jealousy.

The other day, I emerged from my office at 4 p.m. to take the reins from Maria. She hugged Dylan and set him down next to the coffee table, and he looked up at her -- eyes wide as saucers -- and stuck out his lower lip in a mighty, cartoonish frown. So she hugged him one more time, then handed him to me. Dylan took one look at me, one look at Maria, and burst into tears. He twisted, he turned, he threw an elbow into my throat, he reached for her. And a tiny piece of my heart broke off and went down into my feet.

This is exactly the friendship and love I want my kids to feel for Maria -- for anyone taking care of them, spending this kind of time with them, as she does. I don't begrudge them their playtime, their closeness. But I also can't escape how much it hurts when Dylan is like, "YOU? OH HELL NO." Liam manages to be thrilled to see Maria while also clutching for me sometimes, and deriving comfort from being in my arms. Dylan does not. 

It doesn't have to do with Maria directly, either. Once Kevin went on hiatus, he spent more time with the boys in the evenings, because Jessica and I were scrambling to hit deadlines. Knowing he was there and that I didn't have to finish my work cold-turkey at 4 p.m. made life easier for me and I wanted to make the most of it. I was still there for dinner time, still there for the bedtime bottle and pre-bed roughhousing that helps them burn off that last bit of energy. But I've grown to suspect that it affected Dylan weirdly -- that, or I did something else to upset or offend or hurt him. Because in the past few months, I am Dylan's no. 3 choice behind Maria and Kevin, and it's not even close. In fact, put anyone else in my house, and they're probably right up there in that three spot with me.

Maybe they're more comfortable, and so when he's tired or scared he can snuggle up to them better. Maybe I messed up and was trying too much to work like it's the old days, pre-kids. Or maybe, on some subconscious level Dylan doesn't understand, he associates me with being scared and distressed in utero, when he was starving and basically had to engineer a prison break. I don't think it's always been this way, although I don't think he's ever been a mama's boy, either. All I know is, recently Maria put him in my arms while she took a bathroom break, and when she returned, he all but took flight leaping out of my lap toward her. And it really hurt. Because at the end of the day, I'm flawed enough to be jealous of my nanny. To wish they could always love me best. It's funny how parenting brings out the selflessness and selfishness all at once. The kids come first, but why can't I come first for them, too, and ME ME ME ME.

People laugh at me, say it's just a phase. "He loves his mommy," they oh-silly-you, and they're probably right on some level, but that doesn't solve anything for now. It doesn't make it sting less when my son would rather go to someone else. It doesn't make me any less self-conscious when Dylan is upset at PT and bypasses me in favor of seeking solace with Maria. I feel like the perpetual bad cop, the torturer who enforces physical therapy regimens and makes him eat dinner and go to bed and brush his teeth. It doesn't help me understand how to reinforce the bond without treating him differently or making Liam feel excluded. 

Jealousy is an awful, stupid thing that colors my vision. I'm embarrassed that I've given it any credence at all. Although I admit sometimes I wish I'd hired a nanny whose name wasn't so close to "mama," because when they call her that -- and they do -- it rips another tiny piece of me and flushes it away, as if the word isn't uniquely ours. I'm supposed to be their mommy. That's supposed to be for us. Why can't I wait patiently for the day when it will be, when they can verbalize and understand? Because I'm jealous. I hate it, and I am it.

It's getting better, slowly but surely. In some areas. Since Kevin's been back to work and I'm on the afternoon/evening patrol, Dylan is seeking me out a bit more, but still more so when I'm the only option. Last night, as he woke up screaming his lungs out from teething pain and exhaustion, Kevin handed him to me to see if I could get him to take some water. He wouldn't, so I stood up to rock him and make up silly songs to comfort him. He tensed and fought and yelled, then Kevin reached to take him back, and he burrowed into Kevin's neck and went quiet. (I would've liked to have kept him until he calmed down, just to establish that kind of connection, but Kevin thought he was doing me a favor by taking him back because it was Kevin's turn to do the night-to-5 a.m. shift. I'm only mentioning that misunderstanding -- which we sorted out later -- because I want to make it clear that I don't just hand Dylan off every time he protests.) 

Seeing all the other kids who show up for therapy, kids with very real problems, puts it into perspective a bit. Some days I'm calm and practical about it. Others, I'm emotionally turgid. Nothing is easy, and that's part of the point. It's a lifetime of getting to know each other. I just wish he'd trust me more unconditionally, because it makes me wonder what I did to violate his trust along the line. I want to be his safe haven, not just the most convenient port in the storm. I want him to love Maria, to want to be with her, but not to the exclusion of me. But I guess in some ways, it's an early reminder of how I have to be there for him while letting him find his own path. I don't love him less because he wants other people more. I just respect myself a tiny bit less for making the comparison.

Comments

[Beth C.]

Oh man, this stuff is so tough. Just remember, he really is a little person who learns and goes in his own way and kids really do go through phases about who they want around. I can pretty much guarantee you didn't do anything wrong at all, this is how it is with babies, they try out different things and different people and some kids are way more independant than others.

My brother in law went through this with my nephew. He told me he almost wanted to cry a few times when nephew launched himself out of BIL's arms into my mother's (Nani). Now he's totally Daddy's boy.

I know this doesn't help, and the jealousy thing is so normal, but don't blame yourself, it really is just where he happens to be right now.

[PLM]

I felt this with my son. I'm a single mom and we live with my mom. She keeps him while I'm at work. So she's Nana, and she is not only with him in the day, but she's here with us at night, too. So he preferred her, and it was almost impossible for me. Once she accidentally called herself mama, and I lost my junk.

My son had a speech impediment when he was young. I remember once, when he was about 3.5, he was saying a word over and over, and no one could understand it but me. And that is the moment I knew it would be OK. I've always felt a little bad that I regained my sanity based on a limitation of his. But mostly, I remember that moment, and I feel so much like a mother, in the most amazing way. Once I felt it, things slowly turned around and now those awful feelings are just a (painful, but far away) memory.

It's normal, but you probably already know that, intellectually.

[Elle]

The more you show your disappointment, the more he's going to do it. It doesn't have anything at all to do with Maria or Kevin, it's just that he enjoys pushing that particular button because he sees it works! My daughter loves being with both sets of grandparents, but obviously there is competition, and when they are all together she knows very well how to play them. She does it with me, too, when I come home from work. This can start very early on in life. The only trick is to stay cool on the outside and disregard it completely. Now that my daughter is older I sometimes ask her - jokingly - if I should go away then, at which point she realises the game's up. Do belive me, it's true!

[Abby]

I know that heartbreak all too well. I had the same experience a few months ago, when my son was around a year old. For almost a month he cried and screamed and clung to his daycare provider for dear life when I arrived to pick him up. Like a dagger to the heart. But it passed quickly, as everything seems to at this age.

This chopped liver stage won't last forever. In fact, it probably won't last much longer. I still work, my son still goes to daycare — but now it's all mama, all the time. Which will also pass, I'm sure...but I'm soaking it up while I've got it.

Hang in there.

[Jennifer]

Hi, another mom here who was perpetually torn between "wow, what an independent kid I've got," and "oh my god she hates me." (yeah, I may have mood swings, on occasion). I don't have much more to say other than you aren't alone.

[tulip]

I am so sorry you are dealing with this. It can be awful to feel so helpless in the face of your feelings. I have been on the other side of this and I found it mortifying for the mom I worked for. One thing I tried was talking about the mom while she was gone. I would show them pictures and play silly games with them while talking about things they would do when mommy got home. It really did seem to help us. I think talking about it with me really helped the mom out. She acknowledged it just like you have here. "I hate that this is here but it is and how can we work on it?" It sounds like you've done that with Kevin but it might make you feel better to let Maria know that you are struggling and see if there is anything you can do together to work on it.
Much internet love from me and I hope that you won't beat yourself up too much about feeling this way. It's a totally normal reaction and you are not a bad person. You are a great mom who wants to have a great relationship with your kids. That's an admirable goal and you are doing a great job. Internet love from here. xoxo

[Kristin]

I know it hurts. My son went through a phase where all he wanted was Daddy. Everything was all about Daddy, all the time. If I had him, he reached for Daddy. It killed me. Especially because I leave for work first in the mornings so they would have this time together and then I would have him in the afternoons after daycare when he would be cranky and tired. He'd be playing quite happily with me until he heard the garage door open and then he'd scoot right over to Daddy again. I second guessed my decision to go back to work, to send him to daycare, even to accept my husband's offers to sleep in on the weekends while he watched the baby (my son's a year old).

I know it's a phase. My mom went through the same thing with me when I was little. I loved everything about my babysitter and hated going home. My mom tells me she used to cry about it. Maybe it's a phase, I don't know.

I don't have any advice for you and for the people who oh-silly you, that sucks too. Just because it's a phase or whatever doesn't minimize that prick of pain every time Dylan reaches for someone else.

[vibram five fingers]

He told me he almost wanted to cry a few times when nephew launched himself out of BIL's arms into my mother's (Nani).

[vibram five fingers]

That's supposed to be for us.