A Letter From the Binky

Dear Nana's neighbor, Mom's old friend, Ms. Vera, the Ladies in the Nursery, the cashier at Walmart, the woman at the store who called me, "blue eyes" and the nice old man at Ihop:

Even though I cried my eyes out and clawed at my mommy's neck when I saw you, I hope you don't take it personally. You see, this is just a phase and supposedly I'm going to grow out of it one day. We'll see. I think if you maybe brought me a cookie next time, I might work on my attitude a little bit.

Yours Truly,

So, it's me, Sam's mommy. The mom of the kid who cries hysterically around anyone who he doesn't recognize. It's nice to know it's a phase, but it doesn't take the anxiety of the crying away. Sometimes I feel like we can play it off by saying, "oh, he's just tired." It never works and if it were truly the case, my kid would be diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I think its the fact that he looks at you, starts crying, looks back at me, calms down and looks back at you only to begin crying hysterically again. The game is up...I have to say it and get it off my chest. He's crying at you. Something about you bothers him deeply to his inner core. Let's face it, He's just NOT that into you. There I finally admitted it. After months of making excuses and blaming other things. Honesty feels good. Do you need a tissue? I am a good, people-pleasing Southern girl...you have no idea how saying that pains me. But if it makes you feel better, it isn't JUST you.

This week in my house I made a stunning observation. The three of us were hanging out in the living room in our socks watching Blues Clues. I suddenly noticed something funny. I had one a sock with a pink heel and a sock with a grey heel. Sam had on a sock with a navy heel and a white sock. I glanced over at my sweet husband and on one foot was a Nike sock of his and on the other foot was the matching grey heeled sock of mine, hanging off the back of his foot. I laughed and pointed it out to Andy who looked at me and said, "I don't even care anymore." We have officially lost the will to match socks around here. This is not unusual for me. Not unusual for the Binky (because I can NEVER find matching socks when I need them). This is HIGHLY unusual for my husband. It struck me. What have we done to him? He used to be this meticulous dresser and we've sucked him into our world of unmatching socks (well, it's really my world since the Binky doesn't get a choice). What habit of mine might he pick up next? I had a mental picture of my husband walking around the house in my nightly jammie pants/full length nightgown combo or my sweat pants with one of the few maternity shirts I didn't pack away on. Wow, he's a good man. Lounging-around-the-house wear has hit an all time low and I think of June Cleaver and her pearls walking around the house with a duster while her roast cooks. Get a job, June Cleaver - don't you dare judge me!

Updates - Well, since we began our preschool program, we have had to introduce Sam slowly. The first week, he had done well with the 9-12 schedule. I was confident, excited, thrilled. But then came the phone call from the Church that second week. "Rachel...Sam is upset." I heard him screaming in the background. "Really? Why?" They must have done the unthinkable and looked at him. "Well, he's ...um...he's mad at us." I just stood there in the hallway outside of the training I walked out of to take the call. "Mad at you?" He's one...do I even have to entertain the personal feelings of a one year old? "Well, Okay...um....we'll come get him." I didn't know what to do. I wanted him to get used to preschool, but if he won't stop crying (and yes, I've met that version of this child before), there's not much we can do. I walked back into my training and a concerned coworker looked at me and asked what was wrong with my son. "He's mad." Her concerned face turned to a bewildered stare as her tone of voice completely changed. "Mad?" "yep...mad." So that was that...he came home early both days that week and I decided to introduce him into the world of school, artwork, other children and no grandmas slowly. This week he has gone from 9 - 11 and the schedule is working out much better for all of us. I truly appreciate Vera, his teacher...she's a gem! He's in a good mood when we pick him up and he even created some artwork for us this week. You just never know how they are going to react.

Alright, enough random thoughts of a mommy at an unGodly hour.
Good Night,


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