Do you ever want someone to love you so much that her entire world revolves around you?
Trust me. You don’t.
Baby Diva is the happiest seven month old in the world, as long as she is physically attached to me. As soon as I am out of sight, however, she throws a fit worthy of her name. Luckily I have an open floorplan so I can flit between the kitchen, living room, and study. And yet, as soon as I duck to retrieve food from the refrigerator, diva fit.
Pick up toys from behind the couch, diva fit.
Turn a corner, diva fit.
Try to grab clothes and make-up from the other room–well you get the idea.
Baby diva has not read the peek-a-boo memo, yet.
You would think I would have become more toned carrying a twenty-pound weight with me everywhere I go. But, alas, no.
Luckily Super Dad takes this all in stride. Baby Diva adores him and laughs and smiles when he comes home. Yet, as soon as mom leaves the room, you would think Jack Bauer was interrogating her. Then, within a few minutes, Super Dad has Diva the Kid cooing and playing again.
Today, Super Dad had to get to work early, so I had to grab a shower with Baby Diva in her swing.
For a few minutes she played with her toy bar, then the Diva Fit began. She was giving the shower a run for its money with the waterworks.
I poked my head out, soaking the bathroom floor, “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s here.”
We have a glass shower door, for goodness sakes! She can see me. I know–I conducted a scientific experiment: I bent down and then stood back up and she followed me with her eyes.
Matters not at all. I have to soak myself, comfort Baby Diva, soap up, comfort Baby Diva, rinse, comfort Baby Diva, etc.
So, I felt like a terrible mother for five minutes, but I was clean enough to face another day of attachment parenting with the sweetest baby in the world.