Separation Anxiety

Yesterday I took Jack to the crazy YMCA pool/water park extravaganza, conveniently located three minutes from our house.  We met up with one of the girls from the neighborhood and her little boy, who is about a month younger than Jack (and slightly more advanced in his mobility).  It was insane.  Children everywhere.  Screaming.  Running.  Splashing.  Swimming underwater two inches from my ass.  Jack and Brady had a great time splashing each other and crawling in and out of the beach-like shallow end of the pool, while randomly grabbing strangers toys, sunblock, towels and whatever else they could get their hands on.  It was completely exhausting but it was good to see that Jack loves the pool.  Just about as much as he loves the tub. 

Later that night, I gave Jack a bath to wash off the 17 layers of sunblock and the smell of chlorine and pee.  He was screwing around in the tub, much like at the pool earlier in the day.  Which, personally, I hate.  I can’t stand it when he crawls in the tub.  Or he trys to stand up.  Why can’t he just sit down and play?  So, he’s crawling around and slips, as he fell forward, he took a gigantic gulp of water.  Then proceeded to cough and choke and sputter for several minutes.  And it wasn’t the choking on the water that bothered me, because I knew he was ok.  It was the fact that he was terrified.  Bawling.  Totally freaked out and clutching onto me.  After he calmed down and I put his lotion and diaper and jammies on, we went downstairs.  I sat him down on the floor so I could make him a bottle and he freaked out.  And for the rest of the night he clung to me.  Laid his head on my shoulder (which he just does not do… he is too busy for that) and occasionally lifted his head to give me a kiss.  We read books and he would look back at me with his head cocked to the side and he’d look at me longingly.  And all I could think is – I have to leave this kid for FIVE days next week.  I can’t do it.  I just can’t.  How am I supposed to leave him?  I know I need it.  I just can’t stop thinking about how he needs me.  And what if…he chokes, or he gets a really high fever and gets sick, or what if the dog bites him, or what if I come home and he hates me for abandoning him so I could go have fun without him?? 

It’s pathetic, I know.  Waay back in there in that brain of mine, I know we both need this.  It’ll be good for him to know that I can leave and that I do come back.  He’ll be just fine.  And I’ll be able to actually talk to E.  And eat a meal.  While having a conversation with someone else.  And I’ll be able to shop for more than thirty minutes at a time.  Without having to stop to change a diaper or get a snack.  It’s crazy, to look at this person I’ve become.  It wasn’t long ago that I liked to go to bars.  And if it wasn’t packed, I mean – to the gills, with people, then I was bored.  Now I can barely stand to be in a room where someone is smoking, let alone a room full of smoke and people.  And don’t get me started about crowds.  Hate them.  Before I would dream about big birthday parties with lots of shots and dancing.  Three years ago I couldn’t see myself with a kid before I turned 30.  Now I’m about to be 30 and don’t want to be away from my kid for more than a few hours.  Instead of shots and dancing, I long for a Volvo and a cute apron.  AN APRON!  Last night I told E I really wanted something for my birthday.  Wendy’s.  A big greasy burger.  And a Volvo.  And an apron.  Yeah, I know.