We're going through our first bout of separation anxiety with Lyla, and according to all the books, she's right on track. According to her two little friends born within three weeks of her, she's right on track. According to the separation anxiety pulsing through the rest of our household, she's right on track.
Along with separation anxiety, says the books, comes stranger danger. Not only does Lyla want to be with me always, she gets a little leery of anyone else even looking at her. Although the fussing when I'm out of the room is a bit annoying, the way she lays her head on my shoulder and coyly smiles at anyone who talks to her is the sweetest act I can possibly imagine. Even the "stranger" lets out a swoonful sigh when she does it.
The thing is, me being out of the room is the most separation she gets. I stay at home with the girls, and though Gracie goes on adventures with McMister pretty often, Lyla does not. So we are together a lot. Like all the time a lot. Like every single second a lot. Granted, she gets ignored a lot more than Gracie ever did as an only child, and she is great at playing by herself for while since I inevitably leave her alone several times a day to play with her big sister or fix something she's broken. But, truth be told, we're together far more than even Gracie and I were at this age.
Over the weekend, I went for happy hour with my sister and her friends for one glass of wine. With driving time, I was gone about an hour and a half. McMister stayed home with the girls and a friend of his, and it was the longest he's been without me with the girls ever. I know full well that this is my fault just as much as his, and I'm not saying it should be this way. But that's where we are, and I broke out of my comfort zone and left.
As I walked toward the door, Gracie began to cry. (Not Lyla. Remember, she doesn't get the whole pre-leave anxiety thing yet. She can still see me. I'm right there!) Gracie fussed and whined and asked why I was leaving, making me feel terrible over and over and over again. And finally, actual tears began to roll down her cheek. Breaking my heart. She asked if she could come with me, she asked why I was going somewhere that kids weren't allowed, she asked why she had to stay home with Daddy (the person she'd rather spend time with than me any day!)
I told her she needed to stay and help Daddy take care of Lyla, that he didn't know how to do it, and he'd need her help. She perked up at that idea and let me go with a teary-eyed smile.
When I got home, both girls were happy, and McMister and his friend were having a good time.
"Lyla's probably ready for solids dinner now," I said to McMister.
"She can wait a bit," he told me. "I fed her pears while you were gone... Twice."
Yep, even though she only eats solids 2-3 times a day, he fed her solids two different times during the 90 minutes I was gone :) You gotta do what you gotta do.
He also said that Lyla got fussy at one point, and he asked Gracie what he should do. Gracie went right over to Lyla's toy basket, searched for one toy specifically, brought it to Lyla, and she stopped crying on the spot.
"She really did help me take care of Lyla!" McMister exclaimed, proving I can take care of both girls, he can take care of both girls, and they can help take care of each other.
But what about other people taking care of them? What about the word that has been causing me anxiety for months already? PRESCHOOL.
We're going to a preschool and private school fair in a few weeks to learn about our options. I've looked online a lot, made a few calls, talked to some people, and done what I do best: worried. There's no real reason for any anxiety yet, but I am filled with it. And you know what didn't help? This post from a faraway friend on facebook: "Here's to hoping dropping [child] off at her second day of preschool goes better than today. [Husband] and I finally had to just leave with her on the floor grabbing at our pants and shoes, screaming "dont leave me here" while the sweet teachers (yes plural) held her."
She did thoughtfully add, "*Side note, the teacher said, in about 5 minutes she was fine and didn't shed another tear all day." But still, DAMN.
She did thoughtfully add, "*Side note, the teacher said, in about 5 minutes she was fine and didn't shed another tear all day." But still, DAMN.
1 comment:
Awh, sisters. I love that Gracie can help out McMister with Lyla! Sounds like this should be a weekly date night for you (with your friends) and McMister (with the kiddos!). :)
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