Desperation Anxiety

This week, I tried a little experiment.

For weeks now, I've restrained my son in an exersaucer or Jumperoo while I showered. I do this for his own safety and my sanity-- especially since he's learned how to pull up and stand on his own, and more importantly, where all of the electrical cords are stowed.

Not one to be held back from his new found freedom, he would howl and whine as soon as either the exersaucer or the Jumperoo came into view. Having to put him in there and listen to his sad cries was no joy for me either. Plus, it was a total pain to drag either of these bulky, gigantinormous baby toys in and out of the bathroom on a daily basis...

So this week, I tried just letting him play freely in the bathroom and adjoining bedroom for a change. I shut the closet door (he's made several attempts to chew on my shoes- gross) and secured the toilet (I've caught him playing in the water-- eww, double gross is RIGHT), scattered a variety of toys throughout the bathroom and bedroom floor, and did some other quick baby-proofing.

This plan was supposed to be Aaaaa-wesome. He could safety play and have his freedom, peeking in on me whenever he got lonely... and I could SHOWER. Perfect! I had to pat myself on the back for my parenting prowess...

I no sooner turned on the shower and stepped in when I spotted my son's tiny hands and nose pressed securely against the Plexiglas of the shower door... it was adorable for sure, but he stayed there THE ENTIRE TIME- crying and screaming, "ma ma, ma ma, MA MA". He would bang his tiny fists against the door, as if to say "let me in. I want to be WITH YOU."

My son may have a textbook case of separation anxiety, but I'm also going through a phase I like to call "desperation anxiety". For the record, our pediatrician predicted this was coming too.

While I have totally given up on peeing during the day and brushing my hair, taking showers was my final claim to being a civilized, respectable member of society. I don't get it. He sees that I haven't left. I'm just on the other side of the clear door, talking and singing to him as I would any other time. Ironically, when I'm NOT showering, he could care less what I'm doing or where I am... I could be mid-sentence reading him a book and he'll just wander off to the other side of the room to play with his toys. Sure enough, as soon as I stepped out of the shower, he suddenly became very preoccupied with the bathroom cabinets.

While I can appreciate all of my son's love and devotion for me, I wish I could stockpile and reallocate some of it to his angst-filled, rebellious teen years.

Do you think he'll have as a best friend then?

photo by sarah hyndman