Or something like that.
It's the only explanation I have for the insanity of the past 3 weeks. Separation anxiety, nap problems, bedtime problems, behavior problems. You name it. We're going through it. Hence why I've been up since 4:30 am on Memorial Day. I'm not going to talk about who's ultimate decision it was to take away the beloved "baby 'fier" as Camren affectionately called it except suffice it to say it wasn't ME. Although I'm sure that if he did still have it then he "would surely keep it until kindergarten." Not to mention that we are in the busiest work months where many days I'm a single mom. Or that he was already having a tinge of separation anxiety prior to the executive decision to terminate the baby (hmmm, maybe not a good time to do it, but hey what do I know?). Of course baby 'fier was already just a staple at naptime and bedtime so that seemed reasonable to me. And the pediatrician said he would give it up naturally but at a minimum we had discussed having some type of giving away ceremony. Or at least I thought we did. Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Maybe it's not the problem but since these issues are lingering on I'm sure looking for something to pin it on.
He only asked for it a few times after the initial termination. But even though he's not verbalizing it I'm thinking actions speak louder than words. Maybe I'm an enabler. Surely when he's older I won't be giving him alcohol or drugs to help him deal with his daily problems (No, I'll be buying them for me probably in the near future. Actually, that reminds me I haven't gotten that Lortab prescription filled from when I partially tore my Achilles last week in karate. And that's a whole other blog post).
Well, given the meaning of Memorial Day this is insignificant. This too shall pass. But when?