Is Daddy the New Mommy?

It seems my little Jude Bug doesn't like me anymore.  Lately, in a rather strange turn of events, Jude seems to prefer her dad.  And by prefer I mean she cries hysterically when he leaves for work.  She refuses to let him put her down when he's home and she will not let me get her out of the crib after nap time until she is certain that Daddy isn't in the house.  Oh, and here's the kicker, she looks utterly dejected as she literally swats away my advances. 

This is the face I am greeted with:


Daddy, of course, finds this whole situation quite humorous and is delighted by Jude's intensity of feelings toward him.  There's just one little hitch...

Jude calls him Mommy.

We've been very perplexed by this whole situation.  Jude clearly knows that her father is called Daddy but if I am around, his name is Mommy.  When he walks in the door after work, she runs to him yelling, "Mom-meee!  Mom-meee!"  Hmmm...

As the whole going-to-work meltdown played out this morning, my husband had an epiphany.  It appears that this child who we both adore immeasurably seems to be feeling a bit left out.  Daddy (known to the non-bloggy world as  child psychiatrist extraordinaire) surmised that there isn't enough Mommy to go around (well, duh!) for Jude so she is having him fill the role.  She doesn't want to share. 

It makes sense, I suppose, but I am unnerved by the idea that I am not meeting the emotional needs of my child.  I understand kids go through periods of favoring one parent over the other but I've never heard of the intentional misidentifying of parents.  I just hope the whole thing gets worked out sooner rather than later. 

After all, what's Daddy going to do those useless nipples?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Halfway There Giveaway

Image
At the beginning of the year, I made a commitment to myself and to Dollimama  (my fellow blogger and mother of twins) to take a few minutes each week for myself.  I promised that I would blog about what I did every Friday and link up to her site.   As it turns out, I was great at taking the time for myself but not so good at blogging about it.  (I know you are heartbroken to have missed my weekly missives about the YMCA.) Do not despair, fair reader, I am here to redeem myself.  I am participating in the: Cue the wild cheering and applause! I am giving away a little "me time" care package. While I won't give the specifics (who doesn't love a surprise?), the package will include something you can do for yourself, something you can do with a friend, and something that will help you do something for someone else.   To enter, please leave a comment telling me the most interesting place you have ever traveled. For a bonus entry, become a follower of this blog and leav
Read more

Peace and Quiet

My girls spend a lot of time together.  Jude and Elie are inseparable for all the reasons associated with young twins and, apart from when she is in school, Vivi is home with them.  Vivi will often try to engage her sisters in her games which generally consist of bossing J&E around in the name of playing "school" or "dance class" or "summer camp." The problem is that Jude and Elie drive Vivi crazy.  They don't listen.  They don't follow her directions and even worse, they are full of their own ideas.  Oh, and sometimes they just. won't. stop. touching. her. stuff.  The few harmonious moments of sibling love quickly spiral into a three-way battle for control. I've tried to talk with Vivi about some of the ways that she can deal with her sisters.  Her first step is what we have called the counter-offensive.  She put this sign on her door: JUDE OR ELIYA CAN'T COME IN!!!!! This is Aviva's room.  Onle [only] mom and dad c
Read more

What Is a Good Mother?

For the most part, I think I am a good mother.  I feed, clothe, and clean my children.  I tell them I love them.  I give them independence and encouragement.  I read to them and play games with them and drive them places.  I try to utilize positive reinforcement. Except when I don't.  There are times when I lose it.  When I throw a (plastic) plate across the kitchen because it is 8:00 at night and I told you it was bed time and not snack time.  When the whining is so insufferable that all I can do is shout "STOP IT NOW!!!!!!" at the top of my lungs so that I stun you into silence.  When I have to ask you for the tenth time to put the god-damned markers away because I am fed-up with scrubbing ink off the walls and floors.  When I tell you, "You know what?  I don't actually like that drawing." because I'm feeling spiteful that that you called dinner "disgusting." I've done all those things.  Some of them I've done more than once.  With
Read more