Trial Separation

Here is my son, eating an apple:

I’ve posted this image to start off because I want you to know, dear reader, that my son is a happy, beautiful, intelligent child who brings eternal joy to my life. I want you to know that my life has never felt more complete since his arrival, and that being a father is the best feeling I have ever experienced.

Now keep that paragraph in your head while I talk to you about separation anxiety.

My son is ten months old next week, something that excites and terrifies me. The rate of development in babies is astounding, and I can’t wait to see what he picks up next – the current new game is peek a boo. My son is terrible at it – he covers his face, bows his head, and smiles. You can clearly see 98% of him. I manage to find him every time, which merely makes him laugh. He’s clearly not got the hang of the game yet.

Separation anxiety is one development I can’t wait for him to drop. It’s why, when we drop Claire off at work on weekends, he cries. Its why when Claire goes to the bathroom, he grizzles. It’s why, when we meet someone he hasn’t met before, he’ll cling to me or my wife for dear life.

On one hand, it’s heartbreaking to see your son cry because he wants his Mum, and not even wierd looking Dad can cheer him up at some points. On the other hand, it’s heart warming knowing that to him, Mum is safety, Mum is comfort, Mum is love.

We used to often have a discussion regarding Claires annoyance at how much Ned seems to laugh and have fun with me  more than her. In her defense, I am hilarious, but I believe it’s because in our sons eyes, I’m not with him all day, 5 days a week, so me appearing home around 5pm is a nice little surprise. On the other hand, Claire is there with him 5 days a week, feeding, cuddling, changing him and making sure he doesn’t climb the stairs/open the cleaning cupboard/climb in the oven/eat some fluff off the floor/climb the stairs again. To him, his dad may be fun, but for security and comfort, Mum gets the winning point. It’s why when he’s sad, he says ‘Mummummummum’.

He wants reassurance that ‘Don’t worry kid, everything’s going to be alright, Mummy’s got you’

This is the purest representation of separation anxiety I can think of – he just hates being away from the people who are closest to him. It’s something nearly all babies get, and it’s something all babies eventually grow out of. I just wish it was sooner rather than later.

So until then, at weekends, don’t worry kid, Daddy’s here, at least until Mummy gets home and does it right.

OMG NO BLOG NEXT WEEK – we’re on holiday. I say holiday, We’ll be tidying the house and trying to get our son to sleep in his cot for a whole night. It’s hardly a booze cruise.


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