Books Unread, Jokes Untold-the pursuit of life

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Separation Anxiety April 6, 2009

Filed under: Schmooper — booksunread @ 5:16 pm

I am leaving Squidgey with Miguel for the next three days.  My grandmother died and I have to go to Maine for the funeral.  (She was 87 and has been suffering from Alzheimers the last several years so…not a tragedy, I guess is the nicest way to put it. The tragedy was the Alzheimers robbing us of our last years with her.) 

Originally I figured I’d pack him up and bring him along with me, but logistically, it doesn’t really make a ton of sense.  So Miguel gets him all to himself for three whole mornings and two whole nights.  Ack.  Even tho Miguel is perfectly capable of keeping Squidgey alive and well for three whole days, the control freak in me is screaming (4 clean bottles and 21oz of water go in the diaper bag for the sitter! Wash nipples in HOT water! Wash his face and hands as soon as you pick him up from the sitter! Etc.!). Not to mention the fact that Squidge will be at the sitter a large chunk of that time-Miguel will only have him (awake) an hour or so in the morning and then an hour and a half or so at night before bed.  How much can he screw up then? 

But the whole thing makes me sad/nervous/worried about Squidge.  He’ll be at the sitter 2 and a half hours longer than usual-when the older kids get off the bus and things are a lot more hectic.  I’m the only one who gets him up and gets him ready for the sitter on weekdays, I’m usually the one who puts him to bed (not that Miguel is useless, he comes up for jammie changing, turning on the fan, humidifier, etc., and gets us all settled to eat and go to sleep). I’m the one who picks him up from the sitter, the one who feeds him his solids.  It’s one thing for Miguel to put him to bed once in a while, or get him up on the weekends…it’s another for me to disappear entirely for several days.  Won’t he wonder what happened to me?  On top of all this, he has a cold, which I hope is getting better, and doesn’t worsen while I’m gone. 

I’m sure he’ll be fine and all this worry will be for nothing.  I’ll get back and he’ll be all “Oh, yeah. You. Nice to see you again.”  I’m the one who will have been a wreck, not being able to hold and cuddle his warm little body close.  I guess it will be good practice since Miguel and I will be going to London next month and my parents will be watching Squidge. (Is it wrong that I feel about 100 times more confident about my parent’s ability to watch him than my husband’s?)

Advertisements