One of those days

Hayden has been going through this phase for a while now, off and on. Her strategy (if it's fair to call it that) is: Get very, very angry. Cry. Puke. Sob with big, wracking sobs as mommy and daddy clean up the mess. Get cuddled. Repeat as needed.

Most of the time she does this at home, although it's almost always when there are other people visiting. But, last Sunday she upped the ante a bit. We were at church (that still doesn't roll of the tongue for me...at church...just to clarify, it's about as close to a bunch of tree hugging pagans dancing in the woods as a church is likely to get). Anyway, when we go to church, Hayden goes to the nursery. She cries and clings to me, then Michelle, one of the babysitters takes her and she lunges for me, yelling until I'm out of sight. Then, she turns and looks out the window at the squirrels until I come back. And we're not talking about a four hour Baptist service or anything, this is a 45 minute, tops, Unitarian Universalist service.

Last weekend I went to drop her off and it was the perfect storm of bad baby karma. First, Michelle, the squirrel watcher, wasn't there. The only other kid there was Alex, who is Hayden's age and a sweetheart, but he was screaming bloody murder for his mommy, and that threw Hayden off a bit. I can kind of see why. But, I had it in my head that it would be fine. So, after a few minutes of playing in the water table with her, I turned to leave. She cried, as expected, and lunged for me, as expected. But, I figured, "she'll be fine. She always is." What I didn't count on was that the woman who took her would hold her by the door and stroke her back while she cried. This is not a strategy that works with Hayden. At all. Ever. Distraction is the only hope.

I stood on the other side of the door for a minute, where she couldn't see me, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I decided I'd give her a few minutes, and if she didn't stop crying, I'd go and get her. I went to the couches one room away from the nursery where I listened to a chorus of Alex Hayden screaming. There was an older woman sitting there who was clearly annoyed by the fact that I was letting my child cry. I smiled sheepishly and told her that my daughter always cries for a minute and then she's fine. As if on cue, one of the babysitters came to find me to tell me that Hayden had gotten "a little sick".

She didn't get a little sick. She went completely exorcist baby on the place.

There was puke everywhere. All over the older women who was holding her. All over her, all over the floor, her bag, the toys, the carpet...you name it. It was everywhere. I stripped Hayden down to her diaper, only to realize that her "back up" clothes had been used during a bad pee incident a week before. All she had in there was a grey velvet skirt left over from God knows when and a pink onsie that's almost too small. But, it was better than nothing. While the woman went and cleaned up, I tried to scrub baby puke out of the carpet and off my kid, all the while feeling like the worst.mother.ever. By the time I started cleaning vomit out of her shoes while she sobbed, "shoes! shoes!" (she hates being without shoes) I was about ready to cry myself.

I stayed with her for the rest of the service. My little vomit scented kid playing happily in the water table in her velvet skirt and little onsie, smiling at me and patting my knee saying, "mommy" in that reassuring, "you haven't left me" voice of hers.

Cut to yesterday....

Church again. Needless to say, I'm a bit gun shy at this point, but I'm hopeful that things will work out better. The "squirrel girl" is there, and Alex isn't. The stars were better aligned, no doubt about it. Everything went off without a hitch. Amazing. I felt strangely vindicated. Not a bad mother. Nope, not me.

Last night there was a special May Day service for mothers and daughters. We went with a friend and her newborn. Long story short, Hayden did well up to the point where the service became quite and meditative. She doesn't believe in reflection. So, I figured, "I'll bring her to the nursery, just for a few minutes." What could possibly go wrong?

Well, she didn't throw up on anyone. They were so scared of her that as soon as she started crying, they ran out to get me (squirrel girl was off duty). I held her for the rest of the evening in the back room while she stroked my face and said, "mommy". In the car I asked her if she was sad when I left, "uh hu," she said.
"Did I come back?" I asked.
"Uh hu."
"Do I always come back?"
"Uh hu."
"So, if I leave, you'll know that I'll come back, right?"
Silence. Dead silence.

This morning, for the first time ever, Hayden threw a fit when I left to go to work. Sobbing hysterically, inconsolable. Tonight when I came home she wanted nothing to do with me. She just wanted Daddy. Daddy to hold her, daddy to play bubbles with her. No mommmy. Brian had been with her all afternoon though, so I decided to try to put her to bed to give him a break. She wanted nothing to do with that, but for some reason, I decided it would be fine. She cried and screamed for daddy until I had to give up and get him. By then she was beyond hysterical. There was no calming her down. Brian sat with her for a few minutes and then tried to put her down.

Needless to say, it didn't go well. Leaving her crying is always a recipe for disaster. When Brian came out to the kitchen with her screaming from the other room, I said, "should we get her or let her puke?" Brian took this as more of a rhetorical question than I had intended, and he was frustrated at what felt like a lack of support. In reality though, it was just a question of fact, as in "do we have the energy to clean up baby barf and do laundry tonight, or should we let her win?". In the end, it was decided for us.

The good news? She didn't get the carpet, so about fifteen minutes was cut off our regular time. But, of course, we're still looking at cleaning up a barfy kid and all the collateral damage. When I went to change her, Hayden started to cry harder and said, "No! Bye Bye!" and then reached for Brian.

In the end he put her down and she wouldn't kiss me goodnight. Worst. Mommy. Ever. But, I can't promise that I'll never leave her again. But, for the moment, she's won the battle and she's got the whole war on her side. Biological warfare will do that to a person