When you become a mom, your heart almost automatically grows bigger and more sensitive. At least, that’s how I felt the moment I heard my son let out his first cry. I immediately felt connected to his emotions. So it’s still pretty hard for me to hear him cry from the heart, even three years later. I also have a hard time hearing him cry just to get attention, but that doesn’t hit me as hard emotionally.
Over time, I’ve realized that every once in a while, I have to toughen up my mother’s heart. I have to put on my mask of the impassive wicked witch, otherwise neither he nor I would make it through. What helps me a little—aside from the fact that I took drama classes, so I know how to play a character—is knowing in advance the moments when I’ll have to act like I’m made of ice. In our house, it’s when it’s time to go to daycare.
No, but WHY every single day??? Yes, I’m starting to know what’s going to happen, but I still can’t understand why it’s ALWAYS the same thing. We get in the car, telling him we’re going to daycare, and he’s happy. It’s as soon as we open the door to the daycare that the meltdown starts. I try as best I can to talk to him, to tell him that I’ll come back to pick him up, that everything will be fine, that he’ll go to the park, I even try a more grown-up line of reasoning (you never know) by pointing out that he always has a great time at daycare and never wants to leave in the evening (because that’s really what happens, and it just adds to my confusion). Nothing works; I have no choice. I have to hand his arm over to his teacher, who pulls him into her classroom, and I have to leave without looking back, even as his cry breaks my heart as I walk toward the exit.
I’m not fooled, though. When I walk past the classroom about ten minutes later because I forgot to leave his security blanket (yes, I’ve committed the sacrilege of forgetting *THE* security blanket), I see him all smiles, having fun with the others. I know he’s going to have a great day—he always does—but that doesn’t stop me from finding it really hard in the morning not to let my heart melt and choose to take him home with me instead. My reason always wins out; I know it’s good for him because he does activities and learns to socialize, but I still need to work on pretending to be indifferent.
WHY is he doing this to me? Since I’ve already asked him that question—naively believing he’d give me a logical explanation peppered with convincing, rational arguments—but he’s never explained it to me, I’ll remain in the dark and tell myself what I like to believe: that I’m the best and that he can’t live without me. 😉