No really, it's us.

Every book or internet article you read will tell you that around 7-8 months of age, separation anxiety will kick in.  Separation anxiety is, of course, when your kid starts freaking the fuck out if you, his parents, aren’t around.   These periods of separation anxiety is suppose to be a right pain in the ass as trying to leave your child with a capable carer while you go out and have a proper drink like nature intended will result in a cascade of tears and distress.  

Henry, like his parents, has always been quite social.   He’s never had stranger anxiety (which I will worry about properly once he’s mobile and thinks all white vans sell ice cream).  Any time I take him out, whether to the store or the park or even the goddamn bus, he will smile at anyone who so much as gives him a glance.   He loves people and people love him back.   Andy calls him a tart; I call him a flirt.  He doesn’t mind strangers touching his hand or his cheek – which annoys the hell out of me because I mind (Who does that?  Don’t touch my fucking child.  I seriously don’t know where your hands have been – you’ve been cutting up raw chicken and wiping your ass with your thumb, haven’t you?).

Stranger anxiety is a bit different from separation anxiety though.   Henry doesn’t mind strangers because I’m always there with him.  But at the same time, I’ve only seen Henry have separation anxiety twice.   Once was last week when my sister was in town.  He had just woken up and Maggie tried to hold him.  The flirt in him smiled immediately when he got in her arms.  The tiredness and separation anxiety made him start crying a moment later.  It was basically, “Auntie!  I love you!  …. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!”   I took Henry back for 10 seconds where he calmed down, only to have him realize that he wanted to be with Maggie after all.  Damn tart.

The 1^st instance of separation anxiety was a week before that, when we had left Henry with his nan for an overnight stay.  Henry’s nan watches him at least once a week so he’s very comfortable with her.   What we didn’t expect though, was when we went to pick him up the next afternoon that he’d have separation anxiety with us.   

When you carry a child for 9 months, then spend an agonizing time extracting that child from your love hole using some vegetable oil and a pair of tongs (exaggeration), then suffer through 3 months of fragmented sleep, accompanying by months of wiggling and whining and weaning and various stages of wetness (have you ever tried to give a 7 month old baby a bath in the kitchen using a tiny baby bath?  Hope you have some hand towels), you seriously expect that child to be overjoyed when they see you after an absence.   Well, not a teenage child.  Teenage children are assholes, but seriously?   A baby should be pleased.   If not pleased, they at least shouldn’t cry when you try to hold them.  I mean, he was crying like we beat him.  “Nana no!  Don’t make me go with them!  They only feed me dust mites and make me clean out the toilet with my tongue and my delightfully cute bunny slippers!”

So yeah, that was disheartening.  Of course my mother-in-law was all, ‘oh, he’s just tired’ but I know the truth.   Henry hates us.  It’s the only explanation.

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In case you were on the edge of your seat in anticipation, Henry has yet to cut his first tooth.  A few days before Thanksgiving he started doing this weird chewing thing – like he had a stick of Wrigley’s in there and he was about to blow a bubble – but it’s over a week later and nothing yet.  I’m starting to dread talking to other moms at the Children’s Center.   I dread it because I’m so curious I always have to ask about teeth.  It appears all the babies in all the lands have teeth except Henry.   6 month olds with molars!   Newborns with a whole mouthful!   A 3 month old that chews steak!   I have dreams about making a bologna and cheese sandwich smoothie for Henry’s school lunch.

Mmmm....smoothie.