feeling like cold rice : by amy

So about 2 weeks ago, something upsetting happened.  It was a Wednesday morning, which meant I worked late the night before and wasn't able to see Logan before he went to sleep.  Since I didn't get to see him on Tuesday night, I was extra eager to see my smiley Logan's face.  Husband and I went to greet Logan in the morning like we always do.  Logan didn't even really acknowledge me and only looked and smiled at the husband.  I proceeded to pick Logan up from the crib-- Logan continued to look only at the husband.  Husband left the room, and then Logan started CRYING, squirming out of my arms and reaching out toward the doorway.  I was so taken aback by his reaction-- this had never ever happened before.  I felt so rejected.  Like, the worse rejection one could ever feel.  I forced Logan onto the husband and bitterly mumbled, "Here, you take him.  He doesn't want me."  I sat in the rocking chair and cried.  It was only 6:20am.

For the next 5 minutes, I thought about what went "wrong."  Why does he always smile so much at everyone else but me?  Doesn't he KNOW that I carried him for 10 months, and that I fed him from my breast, and that I held and carried him until my arms almost fell off, and that I wipe his butt everyday?  He reaches for Bina.  He reaches for the grandmas.  He reaches for his dad.  And today, he doesn't want to be in my arms.  I feel like chan bap (cold rice).  You know-- the leftover rice that was once hot and delicious but was now ignored for something better.

:(

Am I just a bad umma?  Is my husband just that much more fun?  Am I the boring one?  Does he see me as just someone who provides his necessities and transports him from home to somewhere fun?  (home day care, grandma's house)  Does it really make a difference when he doesn't see me 1-2 nights a week?  Is it because I'm working too much?  Should I be spending more time with him so he "likes" me more? 

I came to a few conclusions.  First, I sound pathetic and selfish wanting my kid to "like" me more as if I'm in high school again and my 11 month baby is the "cool kid."  I'm his mother.  No one else can take that away from me.  It's not like he never smiles at me or gives me hugs.  It's not like he never comes speed-crawling to me when he sees me.  This one-time event  happened to be exactly that-- a one-time event.  Second, aside from weekends, I only get to see him for about 2-3 hours a day on M/W/F and only 1-2 hours on T/Th.  When I do see him during the weekdays, we don't often get a lot of play-time.  It's typically feeding, dressing, cleaning,  bathing, etc.  My husband has a more flexible schedule so he's able to spend a couple of extra hours a week with Logan.  It is what it is.  It's not ideal, but I'm content and it's working...so far.  This led to my third conclusion: would I want him to love me more now or love me more later?  I would prefer that he loves me more later when he can recognize actions of love and I can teach him what it means to love someone.  What does that mean for me?  I'm not sure yet-- I'll deal with it once Logan starts going to some type of school.

Some days he's very excited to see me, and other days not so much.  I see him give Bina (his care provider on M/W/Fs) big hugs with big, long-lasting smiles.  He rarely does that with anyone, including my husband and me.  He still smiles and hugs us, but not like the ones he gives to Bina.  I like to think it's partially because he watches the other kids do it too.  Or maybe it's because she always wears this necklace that he loves to play with.  She also happens to be sort of a baby whisperer.  But I know that he is very happy to be with Bina, which is a great thing.  Have I felt jealous?  Occasionally, yes, but Bina always reminds me that I am his umma.  At the end of the day, he knows that he goes home with me.  Bina is a care (and hug) provider, but I am his love provider.  When he grows up, he will know that I'm not his friend-- I'm his umma.  He won't always like me, but I hope he will love me.  For now, I will savor the moments when he treats me like the most delicious, fresh-out-of-the-bap-tong-type-of-bap (fresh rice).  And when he tells me "Umma, I love you," I will feel like a piping hot onion soup with a yolk-dripping croque madame and vanilla macarons on the sidewalks of Paris on a cool autumn day. :)