Of course I’m not complaining that my daughter actually wants to spend every waking minute attached to my hip…soon she’ll be alerted to my momness and want nothing to do with me. But for now she’s a Level 5 Clinger. A term usually reserved for crazy, obsessive hose beasts who permanently attach themselves to their man like a barnacle on a boat. However, I’m using this term lovingly for my little girl who clings to me like a baby squirrel monkey on its mother’s back.
Separation anxiety is rearing its nasty head. There are times when I can’t even walk away from her for 5 seconds to put something in the trash without a screaming, teary meltdown. Mind you, I’m still within eyesight, talking to her the whole time so there’s no excuse for her end-of-the-world reaction. It’s not like I’ve left her starving, wearing nothing but a diaper out in the freezing cold snow. Now that would warrant such a meltdown.
Maybe it’s a bad thing I’m with her so much? Every waking minute we’re together and it’s been that way from day one. I’ve left her with grandparents, even a couple overnight watches, but the majority of the time it’s just the two of us. Daddy’s at work all day so it’s only natural there are times she wants my arms instead of his (which always makes me feel guilty but slightly smug — what can I say we’re both very competitive). Plus, what parent doesn’t get a bit of satisfaction when they’re greeted with tiny outstretched arms?
I worry about the future. What if she’s still a Clinger when she gets older and starts school? I doubt her teachers will let me sit in the back of the classroom and hold her while she learns her times tables or let me hold her hand while she gives a report on the Native Americans.
Deep down I know it’s not bad that we spend so much time together (it’s a great thing I’m lucky to have) and I know she won’t be a Clinger her whole life. Just when I want her to cling a little tighter she’ll be spreading her wings, ready to leave me in the dust..unless I get those wings clipped!