Separation Anxiety, Take 2

Well, looky here. I decided to re-post an old entry because
a) I'm caught up in the copyediting project from hell
b) I'm having that deja-blog experience where every idea I have I've already blogged about, and
c) I'm in a bad mood because the gym daycare has kicked us out 2 days in a row because Riley won't stop crying & I can't get a damn workout.

I thought it would be interesting to see what the last kid was doing around this time. And look what I found:

Month 14: Separation Anxiety

Poor Miles. He’s downstairs right now shrieking his little lungs out, as he has been ever since the babysitter arrived. Whoever thinks it’s easy to work from home doesn’t have a toddler in the throes of separation anxiety. I hope this is just a phase. For now, I am a prisoner in my home office. If I go downstairs for a drink or a snack, he’ll catch sight of me and the whole ordeal will begin again. Thank God we have a bathroom on this floor or I’d be investing in Depends.

If I’d thought ahead, I would have brought my cell phone so I could text the sitter on her phone and tell her to block Miles’ line of sight while I sneak downstairs and out the door for my haircut appointment. See what my life has come to?

To be fair, though, Miles has had a bit of a rough week. Last week, I took him to the pool for the first time. Which he LOVED, by the way. He liked the baby pool OK, but when I brought him into the big pool he screamed with laughter and splashed like a lunatic. He didn’t even mind when I dunked him underwater.

Then, later that night, he started running a fever. By the next day, he was miserable. I took him to the doctor and it turned out he had an ear infection. His first. He bounced back pretty quickly, except for this new unbreakable attachment to Mommy. He even cries when I leave him with his dad. I feel bad, but hell, I need a break sometimes.

A REAL break, not “Hey, why don’t you bring Miles to my softball game and you can watch from the sidelines while I play. It’ll be fun.” Cut to Mom prying her son’s hands off of rusty fences, other people’s keys, cigarette butts, and someone’s grubby dog for a solid hour in the 90-degree heat. Is it my fault he spilled a beer on the playbook? Was it my idea to feed him a sticky cereal bar and then let him play in the dirt? (Well, yes to the former, no to the latter. Even though that’s how C. phrased it later: “Why’d you let him play in the dirt?” Same reason I “let” him dump out the dog bowl three times a day and play with cutlery and chew on the phone charger!)

So I haven’t been to the gym all week because I’m afraid to leave Miles at childcare. We’ve been doing our Stroller Strides class in the mall since it’s so damn hot out, and because Miles can keep me in his sight the whole time. But most of my exercise lately has come from carrying around my sticky-fingered 24-lb. appendage. Nothing like some quality Mommy & me time, right?