Once upon a time I had trouble bonding with my son, and he with me. Other than meeting his basic needs, I felt -- at my lowest low -- that just about anyone could look after him and he wouldn't know the difference (it's funny how depression warps your perception). After all, not even my breasts were sustaining him. He would have done better with a wet nurse! It's a shame when we are in the abyss that we don't have rose-coloured, fast-forward lenses we can slip on to see the future. Even the near future. Lots of half-empty people could benefit from that kind of optimism. Myself included.
These days LGO and I couldn't be closer. In fact, the mother-and-son bond is verging on problematic. In the immortal words of Ms Morissette: Isn't it ironic, don'tcha think? But how close is too close? Lately my son has taken to bestowing me ownership of everything in the universe. All things, in his autocratic perspective, are 'Mommy's'. The stars? Mommy's. The cars parked up and down our street? Mommy's. Every piece of food or clothing or footwear? Mommy's. Even when my neighbour came toting her own bottle of San Pellegrino? You guessed it. I'm no child psychologist. But there must be a simple explanation. Personally, I don't give a hoot what the rationale is. In an ideal world, anything I wanted on whim would be mine all mine. But that wouldn't be a very nice world, now would it? No sense telling my son that. Better his world view than him declaring 'mine mine mine' to everything in his sight. I guess he's generous that way. Or maybe he assumes that what's mine must by extension also be his.
What is possibly even more grating to others (Mr Green included), though, is the advent of the dreaded separation anxiety. It does make me wonder when exactly does intimacy cross into anxiety territory. A few cuddles: healthy. Following you from room to room, and crying as soon as you're out of eye shot: not so healthy. (Then again, Mr Green also does this sometimes. I guess I have that effect on men!) Take today. While a friend was here, I nipped upstairs for a piddle. Ten seconds later, LGO ran to the bottom of the stairs, frantically calling out, 'Mommy, Mommy, love you'. My heart melted, of course. But it is a little testing, considering it happens even when Daddy's also present in the room. I am told by Those Who Know to enjoy this phase while it lasts. Because it is just that -- a phase. And soon enough he'll be scrambling off to preschool and then high school where he'll cross the street, pretending not to know that freaky lady blowing him kisses. But for now that freaky lady is happy to claim those snuggles whenever she pleases. After all, she's Mommy and she owns each and everything under the sun.