Toddler Tricks - 77: Getting Away from the Kids

Problem: You've been staying at home with your little ones and they're rather attached to you, to put it mildly. But sometimes you have to do things like go to the doctor, or to the gym, or they get old enough where preschool would do them some good. You need them to stop clinging to your ankles and screaming like you're running them over with a bulldozer.

Solution: There is none. If you're here, it's already too late. Okay, not really, but parents of babies, take note: Leave your children on a regular basis. I'm serious. It seems fine at the time, you think they'll understand later when you have to leave them for a bit, but if you don't get them accustomed to it when they're smaller, it's hell. It could be hell anyway, depending on your kid. It's hardly ever easy, especially if they're used to seeing you all the time.

But for us, for my family, it's on the pathetic side. Here I have two three and a half year old who absolutely throw holy hell when I attempt to leave or do anything without them. They have never even been alone with their father since we moved to Florida two years ago. And now, they won't accept it.

If you're in my position, you have to take a firm stance. Understand that they don't know what they are talking about. You're not really breaking their hearts. They're not really that scared. They're just doing that thing they do where little things become wicked important just because. Think of yourself as the pink socks. They couldn't care less, really, whether or not they're wearing the pink socks in the big scheme of things, but at the time, they will roll around in a puddle for thirty minutes because you put them in the blue. Same thing. Just do it. Just go. It's going to suck. But it's never going to suck any less. The longer you put it off, the worse it gets.

My Child Will Never...

Every time I hear a parent, or a non-parent, say "my child will never...," I shake my head and smile in amusement. Don't you know that saying that will only cause embarrassment in the long run when your precious angel, in fact, does do it? Probably in public? Probably in front of the people you laughed with way back when?  If I've learned one thing through second-hand experience, it's never say never with kids.

The problem with a statement like "my child will never..." is that it implies judgement on those children who would and do. It implies the parents who "allow" such behavior are somehow less than you, since, of course, your child would never.

But not only do you not know what your child would ever do, you also don't know the circumstances surrounding the child that is doing what you assume your child won't. Maybe it is his first time doing it. Maybe it has nothing to do with the parenting or training involved and is simply a reflection of personality, one that cannot yet be expressed in a rational manner because the child is so young.  Maybe the kid is sick, or just saw her dog die, or she's suffering the evils of teething. Maybe that parent that you're distancing yourself from said those same words not six months ago.

I have never said, "my child will never..." out loud. But I have thought it, and it has come back to haunt me. Of all the faults I have as a parent - and they are many - I thought with full confidence that I would never have children so maladjusted to society that they would cling to me and need me present 24 hours of every day. I thought, I will never have children that cannot have fun on their own.  I will never have children the babysitter hates. They love people, fun strangers especially. They socialize daily. They're twins. They have each other for comfort, too.  They don't even really like me, I thought. I'm just the person enforcing rules and making their little lives basically unlivable. They'll love new people, places and things. They're adventurous. I'll never have to worry about separation anxiety, and my kids will never throw fits because I leave the house.

Cue to last week when I left the house for a long period for the first time in a year (yes, unfortunately, it has been that long.)  I typed out a lovely sheet of instructions for our sitter. The babies were excited to see a new friend, and were showing off for her as I readied myself to leave.  I gave her last minute direction as I left the house. "They share the yogurt in the morning, but don't forget to give them oatmeal about a half hour after that."  "They like Sesame St. better than Diego, but you'll probably be playing instead of watching TV, I imagine."

Then, I snuck out. My first mistake. My kids will be three in August. It's no longer out of sight, out of mind with them. They understand everything. In fact, if I could redo one thing about that day, I would redo my exit strategy. I would kneel down in front of them, explain where I was going and when I would be back, and I would handle the tears and frustration as I left, in the hopes that they would not feel abandoned or scared.

Because they felt abandoned and scared.

About 30 minutes into my journey, I checked my cell to see if the babysitter had called. She hadn't, but my husband had...three times.  He told me they had been crying inconsolably since I left and that he'd told them I would bring back chocolate and candy for them, and that I'd gone to the store to get it.

I called the sitter.  Things were bad. Natalina refused to let her touch her. She wouldn't put on her pants, she was on a food strike, she was screaming and banging things around, and finally she'd closed herself in her bedroom.  Dulce was laying by the door in desolation.

"Don't worry," she said, "they'll buck up and get used to it. I'm sure we'll have a great day."

But they never did.  I got home six hours later, chocolate in hand, to a quiet house. The poor babysitter looked wide-eyed and almost feverish. The babies, she said, were finally sleeping. They hadn't gone down until three.  After she left, I cracked the door to see them. Diaperless and pantless, they were asleep on the floor.  They hadn't eaten anything all day. They had refused to play, refused to do anything. They had cried and pitched tantrums from the moment I left at 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. when they nodded off to a discontent sleep.

What have I done to my children?  Of all the ways I have been ruining them, ways that I have been keeping track of merciless to myself, this way blindsided me. I had no idea I'd had it coming. What had I done?

When they woke up, one was happy to see me, prepared to let bygones be bygones. The other was not so easily won. She cried actively at me for the better part of an hour, wouldn't let me touch her at first. She was so angry. So hurt.  Finally, they both calmed down, and we watched some television before going out to feed the ducks.  Everything was hunky-dory again by the time my husband came home from work.

Later in the evening, Dulce held up the now crinkled and food-stained instruction list I'd left for the sitter.

"Oh, no!" she said. "Caitmin, for Caitmin."

"Yes," I replied, "It was for Caitlin, but she didn't get to use it because you cried all day. Why did you cry all day?"

Dulce's eyes widened and her lip quivered. "Dulce cry," she said. "Dulce sad. Miss mama."

I almost died.

My poor kids.

So, I'm looking for ways to rectify the damage I have done. I'm looking into a mother's helper for a few hours a week, to train the babies that other people can do things for them...people who aren't me.  I'm trying to take them out in public more, but not like I have been, you know, grocery shopping and to the bank, etc. No. I'm trying to take them to playdates, and playgrounds, and libraries.  Places where they'll meet other kids and adults for the sake of meeting them, not in passing as mommy grabs the milk from the shelf.

It's hard. I've not managed to do it nearly as often as I first resolved to. But I will continue to try. I am utterly defeated by how dependent I've made my children on me.

My child will never...

Yes, she will.

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Separation Anxiety

I had to go to the doctor this morning.  A regular check up. It only took an hour.

As I drove up through the parking garage, I realized that this was the first time I had been out without the kids or my husband since Christmas shopping.  It was the first time I had been out without the kids or my husband not doing something for the kids or my husband since I got my hair cut in October.

Inadvertantly, I've become one of those mothers whose children are attached at the hip.

It was nice to drive in a quiet car, listening to whatever station I wanted to with no protest from the back.  It was refreshing to get out of the car and...well that's it.  I could just get out of the car, and I was ready to go.  No strapping, or pulling, or hand-holding, or watching fingers as the door closed.  No redirecting from my original route, no worrying about how many buttons were pushed on the elevator, no snacks to fish out of my purse.  I could just get out of the car and walk to my appointment.  Oh, the freedom!

I thrilled at doing this little adult thing all by myself, and laughed at myself, since three years ago I was going to these appointments twice a week, before work, and never would have thought twice to appreciate being able to walk from point a to point b in a straight line.

I missed them, though, even for that hour.  We've got a very set morning routine, and I wasn't there for it.  As I got back into my car -- again, got back in, and drove away; no strapping, struggling, unstrapping, yelling, giving of snack or juice, or pleading -- I missed their little curly heads.  I wanted to get home quickly and give them hugs.

And they'd missed me, too.  Apparently Dulce had cried for much of the time I was gone, simply aghast that I would dare to step out the door ever.  I was the one that was supposed to feed her the milk, yogurt and oatmeal in the morning.  I was the one that took care of morning potty rounds.  Daddy was simply an unacceptable substitute.

This doesn't bode well as I strike out searching for a job, but I know we're all resilient.  We'll make new routines, and grow to love those just as well.  I'll probably always miss their curly heads after more than an hour, though.

Life is always changing.  Your child may put up a fuss or a fight about something, but it's not because they hate it.  It's more likely because it's different and they aren't used to it.  Babies are just as scared of change as adults, but they get used to it much more quickly.  No matter what you have to do in your life, as long as you keep your babies' well-being first in mind, they'll be okay.


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