Betrayal

This will be another one of those posts where I cringe before I hit publish. But, once again, here I go. This is good for me. The truth is always good, and should be shared.

The big boy doesn't really like me any more.

Sure, he still runs to me when he falls down, but other than that - he's pretty much all set with me. Bored. There was a time, in the not-so-distant past where I was the apple of his eye, and no one else would do.
He would find a book, "Mama will read it."
He would want a snack, "Mama will get it."
Playing catch outside, "Mama will do it."

I worried that the Hubs would feel sad and so I constantly reassured him (and myself), "This won't last, pretty soon he'll discover that you're a boy, and he's a boy and my time will be over. He'll want to be just like you."

Well, dear friends, that time has come. Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, Mama can do nothing right. Mama is not allowed to read the book, obtain the snack or touch the ball.

"Daddy will do it."

He is beginning to look up to his father - idolize him, emulate him, and that is good. He could have no better role model for manhood, in my humble opinion.

Today the whole family went to the pediatrician's office for the wee one's fifteen month check up, and when Daddy left to go back to work, hysterics ensued.
"I want to go with Daddy!" he screamed, hysterically crying and sobbing, "I want Mama to go to work!" And then he said it. The thing that no Mama ever wants or expects to hear,

"I don't like Mama."

I've been telling myself this would happen for thirty five months now, and still, it hit me like a sucker punch. Insanely, I was hurt and angry. I felt betrayed. I couldn't bring myself to speak calming words to him as we drove away. I couldn't get past the lump sitting in my throat.

It's crazy to feel hurt, but I do. It's childish to feel jealous, but I do.

Despite all my talk to the contrary, I wasn't expecting this to happen quite so soon I wasn't expecting this to hurt. I thought that somehow perhaps, my understanding of this as a normal part of development would mitigate the feeling of rejection.  I was wrong.  I knew he'd kick me to the curb one day, that's his job in life - I thought I was ready. Unfortunately, instead of ready I am hurt, angry and jealous. And guilty! Never forget guilty! A good mother wouldn't feel jealous, a good mother would applaud his growth. I've said it before, and I'll said it again: Clearly, I'm not a good mother.

Once again I wish I could sweeten this up, but I can't. It is what it is. I want to write something cliche like, "Motherhood hurts" but everyone knows that - everyone except me, I guess.