Five minutes. That’s all I need. No, maybe half an hour. Ok at least an hour. Alright, alright – give me a full day please. A full day without being the favorite. The only person in the whole world who can make this princess happy. The only one who can get up with her (at 5:30 am), get her breakfast, and spend the entire day granting every wish. The only one who can give her dinner, give her a bath or put her to bed.
I am the one person who can’t go to the potty alone, or go outside without her, or take a nap or bathe by my very own self. I can’t walk down the hallway without hearing “noooooooo waitttttt waiittttt.” Putting laundry away? Please. She has to help. Cooking dinner? She wants cookies right now. Put in a Mickey Mouse DVD? “Noooooo Peppa! Peppa!” Try to work in my office? “Mama come PWAY! PWEASE!” Sit down on the couch and cover myself with a blanket? God Forbid. Takes less than a minute for Baby Girl to start pulling at the blanket and demanding something.
Baby Girl don’t you want to play with Sissy? Nope. Daddy? No way Jose. So you’re going to scream and cry and have a ridiculously huge fit and make Mama feel horribly guilty if I try to go outside without you, or take a little rest alone? You Betcha.
You want to go to school today? You do?! YAAAYYYYYY!!! Oh joy, Mama is so excited. Let’s get you dressed so you can go to school. Can Sissy get you dressed? No. Will you let Sissy do your hair? Nope. OK fine, Mama will do it. Let’s Go Baby Girl! Woo hoo. Free four hours for Mama.
What’s this?! Normal teacher isn’t here today? Oh Shit. Here it comes… “WAAAAAAAA NOOOOOOOO MAMAAAAAA!!!” Tears, spitting, crying, screeching, HITTING the other teacher. So mortified. Baby Girl please let go of Mama’s hair. Mama is leaving now. “NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” OK here you go new teacher – you have fun with this. Mama is going to go shopping and run completely necessary errands feeling horribly, terribly guilty at leaving you screaming with one person you don’t know, even though you know all the other people in your school. She’s gonna have a great time. Biting her fingernails and waiting for the call from the school saying Baby Girl isn’t calming down and you have to come get her (sort of like being kicked out of an airplane for violence.) Glancing at the phone every five seconds praying there’s no message from the school and yet, really wanting to know – did she calm down? Is she ok? Is she playing with her friends? Or is she hiding under the table with tears running down her poor little face? What a fun way for Mama to spend her free four hours. Of course Baby Girl was (and will be in the future) totally fine after about five minutes. Report from school is that she had a great day. Really? Well I’m glad someone did.
Different day – same game. Mama wants to take a much needed, much deserved little time out NAP. Alone. With the door shut. Daddy says he’ll play with Baby Girl and put her down for nap. Miraculously this all seems to go well and two hours blissfully pass in a dark, quiet room. Sound too good to be true? Of course it is. The instant Baby Girl wakes up from her own nap she is hollering for Mama. Daddy will just not do! So I reluctantly drift up and out of my comatose state – because really you cannot ignore the screaming, screeching, completely beside herself Baby Girl. No matter how badly you want to. Guilt washes over and you find yourself getting up, saying OK OK I’m here. Please stop crying. Which of course she does. Immediately. Because I’M HER PERSON.
It’s flattering, yes, and of course knowing this little person wants her beloved Mama rather than anyone else makes you feel all squishy inside. But it’s also torture. You want to make sure the time you spend together is quality, fun and enjoyable. But when you are at your wits’ end because you can’t string two minutes alone together it is hard to be patient. It is difficult to feel loving every minute of the day. In fact, it’s impossible. You also feel very badly that your husband doesn’t get the same treatment. That he isn’t the favorite. Maybe one day this will change and she’ll become Daddy’s Girl. If that happens, maybe I’ll mind. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just take a longer nap.