Mumma's Girl

You know how sometimes at the grocery store there's that one obnoxious, crying child that can be heard from the produce aisles all the way across to the dairy?  Well today, that was Madeline.  And that red-faced, embarrassed mother sheepishly pushing the cart?  Well, that was me.

Eric and I each get turns being Madeline's favorite person.  We sometimes joke that she's like a baby duck because it usually depends on who she sees first in the morning.  If Eric gets her from her crib, Dada's the best thing since sliced bread.  If it's Mumma, Dada gets ignored for most of the day.

But this week?  This entire week, Madeline has had a serious case of the Mummas.  Every time I turn around,  she's there begging to be picked up.  She wants to be with me everywhere and always.

Luckily, I love a good cuddle with my girl, and we've enjoyed many happy moments rocking on the porch together this week.  Unfortunately, I do not like the crying, spitting hissy fit that ensues if I'm unavailable at that very moment.

For example, I'm busy making dinner? Temper tantrum.  I'm busy eating my dinner?  Temper tantrum.  I'm using the potty?  Temper tantrum.  Poor Dada tries to bring her upstairs for bed instead of Mumma?  Temper tantrum.  I eventually brought her in bed with us at 4 am because the persistent cry of, "Mumma!" over the baby monitor was getting old.

Poor girl just can't get herself enough Mumma time this week!

Which brings us to the supermarket this afternoon.  Madeline sat quite happily in the cart as she usually does before she decided she needed Mumma to pick her up and rock her N.O.W.

"Sorry, baby, Mumma can't hold you now,"  I said and I wiggled my fingers on the cart handles to try to distract her.

"BWAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"  Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, her face turned red, I could see the tonsils in the back of her throat, and her pudgy little arms reached out for me in desperation.

Maddie Bear sure knows how to tug at my heartstrings.  I took her out, carried her on my hip for an aisle until she calmed down, and tried putting her back in the carriage.

"BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!"  More epic baby tears.  This time, I didn't take her out.

"Oh no, Madeline, we're not playing this game,"  I told her as we continued down the aisles.

So she screamed up one aisle and down the next.  She screamed until she no longer knew what she was crying about.  No amount of back-rubbing, hugging, or distracting with bananas was going to stop her from crying.

Several elderly ladies smiled at me with understanding in their eyes.  One lady told me, "That baby needs to take a nap!"  Most people pretended there wasn't a wailing toddler parading down the cereal aisle.

I grabbed my things and got out of there as quickly as possible.  I swear I could hear the entire supermarket take a giant sigh of relief as we stepped out into the parking lot.  

When I picked Madeline up to put her in her car seat, she buried her head in my shoulder and stopped crying.  When I put her in her car seat, the hysterics continued...all the way home.


At home, we spent another lovely afternoon together enjoying the warm weather...until Madeline finished eating her dinner and decided she needed to be on Mumma's lap immediately in spite of the fact that Mumma was still taking the first bites of her dinner.  At least there was no audience for that melt down.

Poor Maddie Bear....