Image courtesy the Wignall Museum of Contemporary Art

“Babies can show signs of separation anxiety as early as 6 or 7 months, but the crisis age for most babies peaks between 10 to 18 months…Separation anxiety usually eases by the time babies are 24 months old.” — BabyCenter.com

Thanks BabyCenter. As if getting through the day making constant eye contact with another human was not hard enough, it’s great to know I have possibly THIRTEEN more months of this stage!

Since separation anxiety has hit Alice harder than a clingy high school boyfriend (“Call me before you go to sleep to say goodnight, ‘k?”), I have felt the change from two children to three more dramatically than ever before. Well, at least between the hours of 7:30 a.m. and 3 p.m. Monday - Friday, when Chris, Charlie and Eve are all out of the house for work and school.

Our theme song

Alice’s separation anxiety manifests itself not only when I leave her, but every second that I am out of eye range or we are not physically touching. It is much less pronounced when her siblings and father are home to play with, hold and read to her, but it is still a major “mommy phase.” Additionally, as an active crawler, my becoming a dedicated 12 hour babywearer is not the solution. When we are out and about she digs the Moby wrap (once she even crawled over to my bag and pulled it out), but when we are home she wants to be crawling on the floor or grass with me crawling right beside her.

Lest anyone believe that separation anxiety does not apply to children of stay at home parents, here are some examples from my recent days:

Thanks to my baby’s separation anxiety

I have

• Urinated on the toilet with a baby on my lap.
• Been caught singing at the top of my lungs “Cows and chickens and horses and hogs, they all live on the farm!” by a hothothot guy in a 650i at a stoplight with my windows rolled down. I would have explained to him that Alice screams without the reassurance of my voice since she is facing backwards, but he was laughing too hard.
• Taken a shower with a baby screaming outside like Janet Leigh in Psycho.
• Been pulled out of spin, yoga and Pilates classes by distraught gym childcare employees so often that I had a waiting-listed spin chick tell me, “I’m going to wait outside for your bike for when you have to leave, ha ha!” (HathefrickHa.)
• Built up the muscles on my dominant side from constantly holding Alice so much that one breast is newly, markedly perkier.
• Now have Post-It’s all over the house and pinned to the baby wrap that say “SWITCH SIDES!!”

I have not

• Shaved my legs with frequency (see portrait of relaxing shower, above). Now all my jeans are “skinny jeans,” as the denim clings to my stubbly calves like Velcro. I look like a chubby Olsen twin.
• Consumed a meal without a child on my lap. Baby drool is the new Tabasco!
• Finished a neighborhood run with Alice still sitting in the jogging stroller (see boob/muscle disparity, above).
• Imbibed an alcoholic beverage before 7 p.m., even though I am finding this all very stressful. I would like major props for this one please, as I begin mentally tasting that glass of wine at around three.
• Lost a staring contest with Charlie or Eve. Alice discourages blinking during our continuous eye contact, which is great training.
• Ever been so grateful to hear my husband’s car enter the garage or the occasional babysitter ring the doorbell.

Did you survive experience a child who went through this stage? If you have any tips to share, please leave them in the comments.

I beg you.