Drama Queen

A few days ago, as my sister Julia related the story of her daughter's room-cleaning episode (in which a foam foot was attached and a figurine broken), we marveled together how daughters are sent to remind their mothers of their former selves.

I looked at my baby Jane while we were speaking and thought "how true this is."

You see, with the advent of turning 1-year-old, Jane also developed a severe case of separation anxiety for her mommy. Although we more-often-than-not ignore these fits and screams for me when I leave a room, occasionally a pick-up and soothing occurs (hey, I'm not perfect).

Now she knows. And thus began the fake crying.

Fake crying is typically a morning routine, when I spend a few minutes checking e-mail (the whooping 1 e-mail every 24 hours takes a lot of time) and a few blogs.

This portion of the day goes like this:

Jane plays with toys.

Jane sees plug in wall and tries to pull it out.

Me (shaking my finger): "Jane! No, no."

Jane shakes her finger back at me, talking (apparently this is great fun):

Now she'll pull at the plug again.

Me (much more serious with a pick up and stern look): "Jane! Mommy said 'no, no.'"

Followed by Jane's (apparent) imitation of a stern/confused/angry look:

Now I put her back down and continue with what I was doing.

The result? Fake crying:

And it hits me all over again. This child is me! Drama, drama, drama.

Because, eventually, I'll distract her with something, say, Neil Diamond's "America" on the record player, and the world is filled with loves, hugs and open-mouth slobber kisses. (Which, P.S., is exactly what is missing from the anxiety at 3-weeks-old when they won't sleep, eat and are wailing with no apparent reason.)

Oh my, how I love this child. Secretly I don't mind the fake crying because, inevitably, tons of love and laughter flow forth from my baby.