Beware of Strangers

You might think that I'm sitting down to write a tale of how we've taught Meg to be wary of strange people in the community -- or what to do if she gets lost in public -- but NO. We haven't really broached those topics with our two-yr-old, but perhaps we should.

Today I must tell you of my lovely, sweet nearly-9-mo-old, who has quickly fallen victim to the wonderfuly exhuasting stage of babyhood commonly referred to as stranger anxiety.

It started a few weeks ago . . . we were shopping for Jim's Valentine's treat, and a salesman leaned over Kate's stroller in an attempt to make her giggle. Instead of a smile, her lips turned down and an instant panic attack insued. As I bounced her around the store to stop the crying, I joked with the saleman and assured him it was not him she was screaming at . . . just strangers in general. And ever since then, I've been replaying that scene in my head . . . and repeating it in many public venues.

Kate cries if pretty much anyone attempts to hold her right now. If I put her down to leave the room, she cries. She only wants mom. Kate's at that classic stage of thinking that I must have totally disappeared if I am no longer in her line of sight. If she is distracted and does not realize I'm gone, things generally go OK . . .but the second she sees me or even hears me, the tears mount and the wailing begins.

Jim has told me that while tooling around Disney World with a sleeping Kate in the stroller, he would often avoid me -- or encourage me to walk behind him -- in an effort to avoid this situation. He didn't want her to notice that I was gone -- or there -- so that she would continue to sleep or just stay calm. Poor Jim's mom . . . she tried to help during her visit last week by giving Kate a bath. "A screaming bath" is what we called it because poor Kate cried the entire time Paulette was bathing her. And as soon as she was all lotioned up, in her jammies, and handed to me, the cries stopped and the smiles came. That stinker.

Ahhhh . . . as much as I hate it, there is a great deal of pride and glory that comes from knowing I am the one that Kate wants. I'm the one that will make her happy. And when she sticks those tiny fingers in her mouth and buries her head in my shoulder, there is not a sweeter feeling in the world than rubbing her back and 'sshhhhing' in her little ear. I know it's hard right now -- but I do consider how wonderfully lucky I am to have that tiny Katy-did, crying or not crying. Even when it's hard, it's great to be a mom.

Still . . . I hope this phase passes as quickly as the 'crying in the car' phase did. Remember that? Three months of constant crying in the car. I survied that, so I'll survive this.

I guess I don't have to worry about Kate running off with any strangers these days. No stranger would want her, as noisy as she is. But I want her :) And -- I guess I'll have her to thank for some seriously buff 'mom-arms' I'm developing from carring her around all the time.