The Mommy Factor

Jack turned 18 months old yesterday. I should be amazed at all the things that parents of an 18-month old are. Among them, that he is completely unafraid of running through the malls despite nearly everyone around him is at least three times his size. Also, the fact that he can understand perfectly even though he still speaks fluent toddlertalk.

Me: “Jack, do you want Daddy to read you books?”
Jack: a clear “no.”
Me: “Jack, do you want Mommy to read you books?”
Jack: a not so clear excited “uh” that means yes.

Honestly, I’m more amazed at the fact that I can put Jack to bed by 7:30 and have a full three hours to do what I want. I still can’t believe that the women out their who are also devoted mothers have to pretty much give up themselves for up to a year (some less, some longer), to be at the beck and call of some crying, pooping thing – someone you don’t know at all. AND – when we do begin to crawl back to a life that somewhat resembles life B.B. (before baby), we feel pangs of guilt for spending time away from said babe.

Jack’s been so mommy-centered lately. As the conversation above illustrates, Jack prefers me over Ed. The kid is reverting back to the first few month of is life when I would sit in the back room with the door locked, trying desperately to convince students from three online classes that I knew how to teach despite the fact I had no ability to comprehend more than simple sentence structure, let alone provide hardly helpful feedback (to student: “Thesis: not so good. Conclusion: bad.”). Jack cries if I am not playing near him, even if Ed’s there. In his room today, when I was typing, he yelled a long “ahhhhhhhh” at me to come play with his farm (one of the charming side effects of not being able to communicate in English). When I didn’t immediately respond, he came over, grabbed BOTH of my hands and pulled me away from the laptop.

Maybe Jack has been listening to my musings over the difference between Ed’s relationship with Jack and my relationship with him. It seems like Jack has always been able to play on his own for longer periods of time with Ed than with me. Last week, I came home to Ed playing NCAA football on his PS2. He was about 20 minutes into the 40 minute game and Jack was vrooming his cars around the carpet. I was shocked, a little pissed and jealous. I’ve NEVER been able to do anything involving too much attention when Jack’s been awake. And, I’ve tried. Believe me, it would awesome to be able to grade a paper or two or finish some editing with Jack playing near me. Also, when I get up with Jack in the mornings, I have to hold him for at least thirty minutes before he’s ready to start the day. I’ve learned how to cook many different breakfasts with one hand. Ed, on the other hand, is able to set Jack done not two minutes after giving the kid his milk. He then browses the internet (Ed, not Jack) while Jack eats breakfast to Sesame Street.

Lately, I’ve been snapping at Ed for cruising the internet with Jack around, humming cats in the cradle, as if to suggest that Ed is missing out on every precious moment of Jack’s development. Really, I’m just annoyed that I don’t have the autonomy that Ed has with Jack. Sometimes I convince myself that Jack is more secure with Ed; otherwise why would he be so fine to parallel play with his dad while needing to be held and engaged with ALL THE TIME with me? Is it the mommy factor? Or, is it more about the fact that I’ve clearly told Jack (he understands even more than we realize I’m sure) that I am HERE for him, all the time, that I have fully bought this idea that if I’m not constantly engaging him by engaging with him, then I am neglecting him. Ed, on the other hand, has made it clear that he is there for Jack, if only a few feet away, ready to play when Jack needs it. And, he’ll ask for it, clear as day (without the words, of course).

For now, I’m just going to have to (continue to) accept the fact that as mommy, I am, at least for the time being, the life blood. Daddy doesn’t seem to be the significant parent for a while. Fine enough. When Jack comes home after soccer practice moody about not being able to master his bicycle kick, I will sit back with my novel (in the middle of the day!) and remember we ultimately share an equal parenting role.