Dash’s BFF, Oedipus, is currently on vacation, or more likely visiting some other kid who’s still stumbling around looking for Sigmund Freud’s Phallic or Latency Phase. I’m glad for a break from Oedipus. Sure, he’s adoring and effusive in his praise and declarations of love, but the kid is clingy and demanding and makes me take my shoes off as soon as I return home in the hope that that will prevent me from (ever) leaving. 

I thought I’d be more relieved when Oedipus exited the building; I thought I would have an opportunity to experience the benign neglect Dennis has sometimes endured. Of course, I would pull it off with poise while secretly enjoying my liberation.  But Oedipus’s sub isn’t some guy who’s about hanging out with Daddy and letting Mommy off the hook to do whatever mamas do when they’re not taking care of him. Nope, he’s some dude who is nothing but irritated by me.

I know, it’s great. Really. He’s separating from me. On Monday he told me he didn’t miss me since school was so amazing. Tuesday, he happily spent with Dennis and hardly looked up for a kiss when I returned home. And Wednesday, he pushed me out the door at drop-off so he could be on his own with his peeps. I love it! But must it be accompanied by eye rolls, minor insults, and pissed-offness over nothing? Why, O Gods of child development, must Oedipus’s replacement be Irritation?

And then, there’s my stuff—what do you do when you’re conscious of just how annoying you are to your child?  

My dear friend P. has recently suffered the indignities of being an occasional punching bag to his teenage son. P. knows  his mere presence can, on occasion, drive his son bananas. But P. is well adjusted enough to know that it’s not his issue, that when you feed, clothe, and love unequivocally someone who can often be unlovable, it’s too bad if you don’t smell your best first thing in the morning or you breathe a little too loudly when you have a cold. So knowing that, why do I want it all? Why would I ever expect him to feel independent and have just enough enjoyment of my company, while respecting my feelings and understanding that it’s impossible to wake up with minty fresh breath? Is this all too much to ask? Why must separation inspire obnoxiousness?