This probably sounds strange because I have been a parent
for a while now, but tonight I realized I am a Mom. Not just a Mom, but a Mom
with separation anxiety. The boy went to spend a few days with his Naw and I
had all of these grand plans about the homework I would get done, the lawn I
would mow and the house that I would clean but… so far all I have done is stalk
my sister’s snapchat to look at pictures of the boy and my Mom’s Facebook.
Haven’t started on the homework due tomorrow and if I spend all day tomorrow
doing homework chances are that the lawn will not be mowed and the house will
not be cleaned. I guess it’s a good thing we were planning on a few days.
This isn’t even the first time we have been a way from each
other for more than a day. Although in all honesty this happens every single
time. I immediately start to go in to full scale panic mode every time we are
apart. You should have seen me on my deer hunting trip this last October. I
thought my Papa Bear was going to eventually lose it on me every time I brought
up how crazy I was feeling. His response was something along the lines of, “Daughter,
it is good for both of you. Do you want him to be a man one day? Or would you
like him to be one of those boys who allows his mother to control every part of
his life? And you better not choose the second option. I mean it Daughter! Let
the boy be a man.” My response was something along the lines of… “But he is 2.”
Apparently that is an irrelevant statement.
Even stranger, I now feel like I can understand what Murphy
is going through every time I leave the house. You see, no one loves me the way
my old coydog does. Every time I get ready to go somewhere, even if it’s just
to the store Murph does this crazy pace next to the door while shaking so uncontrollably
I’m afraid he is going to have a seizure bit. I can kind of understand his
level of intensity. I must look like this every time I am not with my child.
Wild eyed, heart pounding, pacing next to the front door. I’m totally kidding
by the way. I keep it a little more under control than Murphy does.
Did I have a life
pre-Boogie? If I did, I can’t really remember it. I slightly remember nights
standing in my kitchen with mix matched socks on, reading a book propped up on
the island, and eating pickles directly out of the jar. (Why did my husband
marry me again? I sound like a total catch, huh?) That is about the extent of
my pre-Boogie and pre-Baby Daddy days that I can really remember. According to
Facebook and the “See Your Memories” option, I had a pretty eventful life
pre-family but some times when I look at photos of all of my adventures I can’t
help but feel like I am looking at photos that belong to another person. What
the hell is going on here?
It’s so strange how becoming a parent defines a person. I am
no longer me. I am his mother… with separation anxiety.
