Bad feelings, good feelings

June 21, 2006

By VANESSA DODGE
BLOGGING ON ARGUSCOURIER.COM
POSTED JUNE 8, 2006 2:17:00 AM

(Each week, we focus on one of our bloggers. Vanessa Dodge is a stay-at-home mother of two and member of the Petaluma Mother's Club who details the highs and lows of parenting. This posting and others can be found at http://dodge-blogs.arguscourier.com.)

Gigi, continuing in her very "two" vein of the last week or so, told me yesterday that: "You're a p**-p** mommy" and "You're not the mommy I wanted. I want a different mommy."

This was sort of in response to my telling her that she needed to finish her vegetables before she could get down to play, but more I think an exercise in just generally venting whatever build up of bad feeling she's been carrying around recently. I mostly feel the brunt of this from her. Simon, like so many fathers of daughters, can do little wrong in Gigi's eyes, as apparently the sun shines out of his ... well, place where the sun don't shine. I try not to take it too much to heart, but it can make me feel lousy after awhile -- and thoughts start to creep into my head that perhaps I stink at the parenting thing.

It was her first day at school today -- just a little two-hour stay to get her feet wet. The drop-off went extremely well: She barely looked up from the cake she was baking in the play kitchen when I kissed her and said good-bye. I spent the next couple of hours running errands and getting a few things done around the house, all the while feeling a little lost and lonesome.

I also popped by my friend Melissa's house to see how she was doing after giving birth to her second child a few days earlier. She looked well and the baby was a sweet little bundle, giving me a surge of nostalgia for the time when Gigi was just an armful, rather than a handful. When I asked Melissa how her three-year-old was dealing with the arrival of a new baby brother, she described a moment when he said "Daddy, can you hold the baby so that Mommy can hold her other baby (me)?"

As she spoke of this, her eyes filled with tears and I could see the tidal wave behind them. I remembered when I brought Gigi home from the hospital as a newborn, that huge upwelling of emotions which threatened to overcome me at the drop of a diaper -- the joy over at having a new little person to love, the grief that your relationship with your firstborn must change, and anxiety over how that change might manifest. Fear that your firstborn will feel abandoned or displaced in your affections, guilt over having to choose between your children, worry that you might not bond with your new baby like you did with your first.

When I went to pick Gigi up later, one of the teachers told me what a good time she'd had and how well she'd done. I saw my daughter a few feet away, speaking to another teacher. She was so self-possessed and full of confidence, like she had been going to school all of her life. And then she saw me. The look on her face was a sight to behold -- a mixture of surprise and delight and unabashed love, as if I was the sun itself, rather than just someone who had solar radiation emanating from my undercarriage (sorry, Simon). And then her joyful expression crumbled and she exploded into tears, flinging herself at my knees.

"Mommy!" She sobbed as I scooped her up, "I missed you so much! I was so worried about you!" I held her tight while she rubbed her little tear-streaked cheek on mine.

"Do you want to go to gymnastics?" I asked her, and her sob turned into a laugh.

"Yes!" She exclaimed brightly, her voice still quavering a bit. Then she hugged me again.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said.

(To find out what else Vanessa and other Petalumans are talking about on the Argus-Courier blogs, visit www.arguscourier.com/blogs.)