Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Maybe He Figured Out That I Don't Understand Football

I have to talk to you guys about something, and it's not easy for me. I'm not a big fan of telling people when things upset me, preferring a simple "I'm fine", even when it's said through grated teeth. For me, this is my natural state, as things that upset me tend to blow by eventually, and making a big deal out of them just exasperated the situation. It has become clear to me, however, that this is not something that is just going to blow by any time soon, and thus, it is something I have to deal with.

The Moose likes his mom a lot better than he likes me.

Don't get me wrong. The little man and I get along. We wrestle, he giggles, all the usual stuff. But if his mom is in the building, I'm suddenly an unacceptable substitute. I'm Crisco in a recipe that calls for butter, skim milk where heavy cream is needed, Spam in place of bacon (maybe I should stay away from meat based metaphors, and in reading that last sentence I'm realizing I probably should have eaten breakfast as well). He's not subtle about it either. When she hands him off, he literally wails, tears running down his little cheeks, crying for mama.

Needless to say, this is not doing much for my self esteem.

What really chaps my diaper (keeping with the theme and all) is that while he's wailing, I'm doing all of this parenting stuff. I get him ready for bed and give him baths and get him ready for school. Frequently while I'm doing it, he's crying, unless my lovely wife happens by and sits down to talk to him while I work.

The worst though is bedtime. See, I'm the one who puts him to bed each night. As a result, bedtime means trying to snuggle with his mom as long as he can, and then wailing when I take him away as if I'm taking him off for torture. Previously, the bedtime routine consisted of saying goodnight to all of our stuffed animals, daddy getting a big hug, and then I would put him down for the night. Now I say goodnight to everything while he cries, and worse, he refuses to hug me anymore. If anything, he'll put his head down on my shoulder for a minute, but he still keeps saying mama the whole time. So that's it. My last baby has decided at the tender age of two that daddy hugs are out. That hurts.

Now I know that these things happen. He'll be a momma's boy for a while and then come back to me. I remember the same thing happening with the Princess. The thing is that right now the Princess is kind of finding her feet, and it's coming out as a lot of rebellion against me, so for the first time I'm feeling like maybe she's not my little girl anymore. As such, I'm sort of losing them both at once. Maybe I'm being oversensitive (illness and exhaustion tend to do that to me), but it makes me feel very alone lately.

The solution is obvious of course - I think it's finally time I got myself that monkey.

No comments: