He waved and walked away from me yesterday. I dropped him off by the church nursery door for my MOPS meeting. He gave me a little wave and walked right in. Made a beeline for the toys. And he didn’t look back.
I watched him go with a mix of emotions. All last year, I tried to leave him in the nursery and they always brought him back to me. He wanted to be held or he wanted to nurse. He was inconsolable without me. My hands were always full. He wanted me. And now, just like that, I’ve been replaced by toys and other kids. Now, I sit there all morning, not sure what in the world to do with my hands.
I was proud of him. Proud of his progress. (I didn’t want him to be a mama’s boy forever!) And proud of myself for all those other times I walked away when everything in me wanted to turn back to “rescue him”.
This is what I had hoped for him. The confidence and security to be social and independent. Still, a little part of me mourned a loss. Plus, my hands were empty.
At one point during my empty handed meeting, one of the leaders said, “Who wants to hold a baby?” I raised both hands straight up so fast. Like they were offering a million bucks to the quickest responder.
This little sweetheart gave me some legit baby snuggles. I held her the whole meeting. Skipped the crafts and everything, I didn’t care.
At the end of the meeting, I carried her into the nursery. C hardly acknowledged me. He glanced at me and kept playing. Then, he glanced back. He saw that my hands were full. She’s holding another baby besides me?
He was up and crying so fast. He couldn’t wait for me to hand her off to her mama.
Is it pathetic that it made me slightly, just a little bit happy to see that he was jealous? I know, I know. Good grief. But, it did my heart some good to know that he still wants me sometimes.
Later that afternoon, he ran up behind me, wrapped my legs in a bear hug, and blew me a kiss. I’m still his and he’s still mine. 😘