Full Circle

I was starting to re-read my previous entry b/c I haven't been back here in a while. Geesh...I can't believe I had the nerve to write some of that crap. Oh well. Gotta accept who I am.

But it's funny, as I am writing something, I think it's the greatest thing ever (sometimes). I re-read it a month later, and I think, gawd, what a freaking dumb ass. It's like hearing your voice on a tape recorder; it makes you flinch a little. ( Do they still make tape recorders btw? Or cassette tapes for that matter?) Anyway, that's why I delete my blogs from time to time. Part of the reason.

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Back to the topic at hand. I had an interesting, "first". A first for a mother, something I'm thinking most moms experience. At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity (explained more at the end of this).

My dad likes to rehash old stories into the ground. What dad doesn't do that? Many of his stories involve me, being that I'm an only child. Some of them are downright humiliating, like the story of how when I was six, I lost control of my hippee flower-laden banana-seat bicycle (a hand-me-down) going down a steep hill and a curve, and totally wiped out. My dad was behind me on his bike. He laughs about it to this day. It's not funny! :)

Another story involves making me feel guilty for something I did to my dad when I was 3 or 4 years old. My grandma babysat me daily while Mom worked and Dad was in school. I was really close to this grandma, all the way until when she died when I was 16 years old. [She was only 56 (breast cancer).]

Dad came to pick me up one day, and I did not want to go with him. I started crying. I was basically a good kid, so I did not throw an all out hissy fit, I don't think. But I did cry, and I probably whined that I wanted to stay with Grandma.

Well, I hurt my dad's feelings. He clammed up, seemed mad, and went storming back to his car. Actually, I was in my grandma's room on the bed crying, so I didn't see him leave. My grandma, who by all accounts was genuinely a good person through and through, came to me and said, "I think you hurt your daddy's feelings, Karla. He just left. You better go and chase him down before he leaves." (btw, my dad at the time was all of 25 years old.)

I immediately felt bad and guilty (as a 3 year old!) , and didn't like the idea of my dad abandoning me there after all, and so I ran after my dad. I caught him in time, but he would not talk to me all the way home.

He eventually forgave me, probably that day, I don't really remember, but he brings it up all the damn time ever since then. I felt guilty and sad about it for years. It was only VERY recently after some self-discovery that I can forgive myself for this atrocity because I was ONLY THREE (OR MAYBE FOUR) YEARS OLD!!!! I KNEW NOT WHAT I DID! C'MON!

Besides, I think my dad only brings it up all the time b/c he still must need reassurance that I love him. Mind you, he doesn't bring it up in a hateful tone. It's just a "remember that one time..." story. In fact, I think *he* might feel bad for reacting to me the way he did when I was 3. HE was the adult.

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WHICH BRINGS ME FULL CIRCLE:

My 14 mo. old son is pretty attached to me, although I would not describe him as overly attached. He doesn't cling to me all the time. He is generally happy to see me. He is very lovable and likes to hug and cuddle and kiss, IF he feels like it. If he's busy playing or whatnot, he's not going to hug for very long. And that is perfectly okay.

Particularly, if he hasn't seen me for a while, he will run up to me, jump up and down intermittently on each foot (running in place sort of), and raise his arms for me to pick him up. If I were to try to leave without him in that situation, he'd be very upset. I don't want him to be too attached, and he rarely gets that crazy about me picking him up. Only the first time after not seeing me all day will he *sometimes* do that. And I must admit, it tugs at my heartstrings just a bit that he is so happy to see me.

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My husband usually picks him up from daycare. The other day, I picked him from daycare.

So I go inside to get him....and....

He doesn't want to leave with me. Not at all.

He just clings to the caregiver like I'm the devil or something. When I finally pulled him off of her, he was crying a lot in his "NO! I don't want that" way, and he was putting his arms out for her to take him back from me. He was not screaming bloody murder or anything, and once we were walking out to the car, he seemed fine. But I gotta tell ya, I was a little heartbroken.

I did not react like my dad when he was 25 (had I been 25, I may have done the same thing; as it is, I'm 37). I acted completely normal on the outside. I didn't force myself on him, other than having to carry him to my car. I mean, I didn't smother him in hugs or kisses. I simply talked to him in normal tones and pointed things out to him and sang to him as we drove. The usual as far as outside appearances. But inside, I was hurting.

It's not HIS fault. Of course not. And it's not personal. I know all this. It hurt me just the same. Or rather, I felt sad. I know it's not logical or right to feel this way, but I felt it nonetheless.

I know kids do this and their moods change daily, hourly, by the minute. I just did NOT expect it. It was so all of a sudden! He was so happy to see me just the day before!

I dwell on things...and I started to wonder later if I was a bad mom. I wondered if when I went to get him out of his crib the next morning, he would start screaming and not want me.

Of course, he didn't. And since then, things have been back to normal, although I have not had to pick him up lately. I pick him up today though, so we'll see how it goes.

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Now I know exactly how my dad felt. It's a little stab in the heart. A little betrayal. It's not the little guy's fault. But man, if your baby doesn't want you, at least the first time, it's a bit of a shock. I do feel a sort of closure with regards to that story with my dad though, and closer to my dad because of it. An "Ah! So *that's* what he meant" feeling, as happens so often to us as we grow up and re-live our parents' lives.

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You know, now a few days later, I learned something from this. And that is, I cannot place all my value on any one person, not even my darling son.

I've overcome most of my demons from the past, all my fucked up ways of thinking. One of my bad habits though was totally relying on someone to love me. If that person didn't love me, I was not a complete person. I couldn't function.

First it was my parents. And then my husband. Ah...my poor husband and the burden I put on him. No one can make someone else completely happy. That person really has to be happy with himself/herself first. It took me years to realize this. And I think I finally did/do get it with regards to my husband.

I think the demon resurfaced though with my son. Unknowingly, I think I was a little too in love with the little guy and I was putting ALL my love and self-worth into him. I knew, or thought, his love for now was unconditional. I knew I could always rely on him to love me and that I would always be a good mom. Not like a husband (sorry husband)...who argues with you and criticizes you and is emotional or emotionally unavailable from time to time (Read: they are HUMAN).

The pain I felt that day made me realize that I was wrong. I should NOT feel betrayed. I SHOULD be more logical about it. Just b/c baby is having an off day does not mean he doesn't love me. And so what...if he has days he doesn't love me...(or thinks he doesn't), it does not mean I am a bad person or a bad mom. And I am still loved. Why is it so hard for people to accept this, people that are like me? I want to say, "ME? No, I'm not really loved. Couldn't be.", but I totally am. :)

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This was every reaction to how I was feeling that day. I've written it all. I kept 95% of it inside me. It wasn't like I went berserk that day.

I did try to share with hubby. He does not understand, and was getting sort of mad at me. He kept saying pretty harshly: "That's just not LOGICAL! How do you think baby feels??? You cannot react this way!" (again, I was very calm when I told him this and not hysterical, although a bit hurt and sad). When I said all I wanted was empathy, he replied in a very, again harsh, and sarcastic tone: "Well, now you know how *I* feel all the time. How's THAT for your empathy?". [I love him, but sometimes he is not very nice. I cannot talk to him about how I am feeling sometimes, which makes me sad in a way.]

So...here I am. A new lesson in motherhood. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but definitely an interesting and very new feeling.