Ever since we got back from Paris, Abby has been extremely clingy. If I walk into another room to say, brush my teeth, it's only a matter of seconds before I hear her wailing, "Mommmeeee! MoooommmEEE!" This morning, she nearly tore my leg off as I tried to get out the front door with a bag of trash. In her eyes, I may as well have been leaving her stranded on a desert island with the Boogie Monster...otherwise known as DAD.
I don't know how to handle this because she's never, ever been this way. In fact, she often says, "Go away, Mommy," if I come home during a particularly great game with Katy, her babysitter. For months, she has simply said "Bye-bye Mommy" if she sees me put on my coat. She would run up to me, wrap her arms around my legs in a giant toddler bear hug, turn around and scamper off. Her confidence that I would return and that she would have a good time without me was absolute, and it was what allowed me walk out the door feeling the exact same way.
There is a tiny part of me that basks in the extra attention, as it reminds me that I'm not easily replaced in her world. But the larger part of me feels the weight of her insecurity (sometimes literally as she hangs from my knee caps) and wants to find a way to make things right again. But with her confidence adrift, I'm feeling a bit lost myself.
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