Don't You Want Me Like I Want You Baby Lyrics & Toddler Drama

The absolute biggest lie the parenting industry ever managed to sell us is that your Spotify Wrapped needs to look like an eighteenth-century Austrian composer's fever dream for your kid to get into a good kindergarten. I was standing in my kitchen yesterday, covered in whatever sticky, unidentifiable substance my middle child had smeared across the counter, trying to package up some vinyl decal orders for my Etsy shop, and I was blasting that new ROSÉ and Bruno Mars song "APT." My almost-two-year-old was aggressively bobbing his head to the beat, completely ignoring the educational wooden blocks I'd set out for him. But then the chorus hit, and those specific baby lyrics echoed through the house right as my kid took his sippy cup, looked me dead in the eye, and walked right past my wide-open arms to go hug his dad's leg. I actually muttered it out loud to the ceiling—asking my own baby, don't you want me like I want you?

I'm just gonna be real with you, having a toddler reject you while a pop anthem about obsessive romance plays in the background is a very specific type of maternal humbling. We spend nine months growing them, hours pushing them out or being cut open, and then a year later they decide we're chopped liver because Dad does the funny voice when he reads the dinosaur book. It's brutal, y'all.

The classical music lie we all fell for

With my oldest, I was a walking cautionary tale of first-time mom anxiety. I bought these ridiculously expensive "brain-building" classical music CDs because some Instagram expert told me that listening to pop music would somehow stunt his neural pathways. Bless my own heart, I spent hours sitting in a silent living room listening to harpsichords while I folded laundry, wanting to claw my eyes out from boredom. By the time my third came along, all that went right out the window. If Mama is cleaning the kitchen, Mama is listening to Bruno Mars, Taylor Swift, or whatever 90s hip-hop makes scrubbing dried oatmeal off the high chair bearable.

When I brought this up at a checkup because I was having a fleeting moment of mom guilt about blasting top-40 radio in the car, my pediatrician, Dr. Miller—who looks like she hasn't had a full night's sleep since roughly 1998 either—basically laughed at me. She said that from what she understands of the American Academy of Pediatrics guidelines, babies mostly just care about the rhythm and the words. Upbeat pop songs with repetitive choruses actually help them figure out language patterns, which makes total sense if you think about it since half the pop songs out there have the vocabulary of a kindergartener anyway.

The only thing Dr. Miller really hammered home was the volume level. Apparently, baby ear canals are tiny and they amplify sound pressure way more than adult ears do, so playing music too loud can actually mess with their hearing. I guess there's some threshold around 80 decibels that you aren't supposed to cross, though I don't own a decibel meter so I just keep it at a volume where I can still hear my five-year-old plotting chaos in the next room. As long as you aren't turning your minivan into a mobile nightclub, they're probably fine listening to your pop anthems.

When your own flesh and blood ignores you

But let's get back to the sheer emotional devastation of the toddler preference phase, because it's something nobody adequately prepares you for at the baby shower. You hear a song with those catchy baby lyrics about longing and rejection, and suddenly you're applying them to your 18-month-old who currently screams bloody murder if you try to put on his shoes instead of his father doing it.

My grandmother used to sit on her porch, drinking iced tea sweet enough to strip paint off a car, and tell me that babies are just little drunken roommates who don't know what they want. Sometimes I think she was the smartest woman alive, and other times I think she was just deeply tired. But she was right about them coming back around. Right now, my youngest is deep in his "Daddy Only" era. If I try to hand him a cracker, he acts like I'm offering him poison. If my husband hands him the exact same cracker from the exact same box, it's a Michelin-star delicacy.

I've read a bunch of articles about this trying to make myself feel better at 2 AM, and the general consensus seems to be that parental preference is a sign of a highly secure attachment. The psychology behind it, if I'm understanding the jargon correctly, is that they push you away and treat you like garbage because they know you aren't going anywhere. They feel completely safe testing boundaries with you. I'm sorry, but that feels like a massive scam. You're telling me my reward for providing unwavering, unconditional love and a perfectly regulated nervous system is getting stiff-armed by a 25-pound dictator?

The trick is just tossing your pride in the trash and handing the screaming child over to your partner so you can go hide in the pantry with a handful of chocolate chips because trying to force a toddler to accept your comfort when they want the other parent is a battle you'll literally never win.

Stuff I really bought and use during the chaos

Because I run a small business from home, my house is a perpetual disaster zone of shipping mailers, transfer tape, and random baby gear. I'm ridiculously picky about what I spend money on now because my budget is tight and I'm allergic to baby products that look like a plastic factory exploded in my living room. I prefer things that blend in, don't scream "BABY," and can really survive a trip through the washing machine.

If you're going to be having living room dance parties to pop music, you need a decent space on the floor. I'm completely obsessed with the Mono Rainbow Bamboo Baby Blanket from Kianao. I know, I know, every influencer on the planet pushes bamboo right now, but I'm telling you, this thing seriously lives up to the hype. It's around the $35 mark, which is steep for a blanket, but I've thrown away so many cheap polyester blankets that got matted after one wash that I justified the cost. It’s 70% organic bamboo and 30% organic cotton, and it's obscenely soft. I use the large size (120x120cm) and just lay it out on my rug so my youngest can roll around while I'm packaging Etsy orders. The terracotta rainbow design is super minimalist, so it doesn't clash with my furniture, and when my kid inevitably spits up on it, the bamboo genuinely washes out cleaner than standard cotton. I don't know the science behind why, but it does.

If you're browsing around, you might want to explore our baby blankets collection to see what I mean about the modern aesthetics, because they really do beat the neon animal prints you find at the big box stores.

Now, to be totally transparent, not everything is a massive home run. We also have the Crochet Deer Rattle Teething Toy. Don't get me wrong, visually? It's stunning. It's made of organic cotton and has this precious little wooden ring and a blue bandana. I bought it because I thought it would look beautiful in flat-lay photos for my shop's Instagram page, and it does. But practically speaking, for a mom of three feral boys? It's just okay. The wooden ring is great for teething, but the crochet deer head absorbs drool like a sponge. The instructions say you can wipe it down with a damp cloth, but when your kid drops it in the muddy driveway, a damp cloth isn't going to cut it. Hand washing and laying it flat to dry takes forever, and who has the time? If you've a clean, pristine baby, get it. If your kid is basically a golden retriever puppy, maybe stick to something you can boil.

Surviving the mealtime strikes

The parental preference phase doesn't just stop at hugs and bedtime stories; it bleeds right into mealtime. Nothing humbles you faster than preparing a beautifully balanced, organic meal, only to have your kid throw it on the floor because you dared to put the peas next to the chicken. Then, your husband walks in, hands them a plain piece of bread, and they eat it like they've been starved for a week.

This is where I rely heavily on gear to do the heavy lifting, mostly so I don't lose my temper. The Silicone Baby Bowl with Divider in the Piglet Design has been sitting on my high chair tray for six months straight. I'm normally not a "cute animal shaped dinnerware" person, but the little pig ears won me over. The biggest selling point for me, though, is the suction base. Now, I'm going to be honest with you—no suction cup in the history of the world is 100% toddler-proof if they really dedicate themselves to ripping it off the table. My middle child could probably dislodge Excalibur from the stone if you told him not to. But this Kianao bowl gives a really solid fight. It sticks well enough to my wooden high chair that it buys me at least five minutes to step away and pour my coffee before he figures out how to lift the release tab.

The divided sections are a lifesaver because God forbid the macaroni touches the strawberries. And because it's food-grade silicone, I just chuck it in the top rack of the dishwasher every single night. At this stage in my life, if an item says "hand wash only," it's practically dead to me. The fact that it survives my dishwasher's sanitize cycle and hasn't faded or warped makes it worth every penny.

Ride it out, mama

If you're in the thick of the "No Mommy" phase, and you're listening to the radio feeling completely rejected by someone who still doesn't know how to blow their own nose, just take a deep breath. It's a phase. A really annoying, ego-bruising phase, but a phase nonetheless. Keep playing your pop music, keep taking the breaks when they demand their other parent, and remember that sooner or later, they're going to catch a stomach bug, and the only person in the world they'll want holding the bucket is you. It's a dark silver lining, but it's ours.

Before you go spiral down a late-night Google rabbit hole about toddler attachment styles, do yourself a favor and check out some gear that honestly makes your life easier. Take a look through Kianao's lineup and find the stuff that survives the mess, the dishwasher, and the tantrums.

Messy questions I get asked all the time

Is it genuinely okay to play loud pop music around my baby?
From what my pediatrician told me, the genre doesn't matter at all—Bruno Mars is just as good as Mozart for their brain development. The only thing you really have to worry about is the volume. Keep it low enough that you aren't blasting their tiny eardrums, especially in the car or if you're using a sound machine near their crib.

Why is my toddler suddenly pushing me away and only wanting dad?
Because they're tiny tyrants testing their boundaries. Seriously though, the experts claim it's because they've a secure attachment to you and know your love is unconditional, so they feel safe ignoring you to focus on the other parent. It feels like a total betrayal, but it's seriously a twisted compliment to your parenting.

Are bamboo blankets really worth the crazy price tag?
I used to think it was a giant marketing scam until I finally bought one. Yes, they're worth it. They're way softer than regular cotton, they stretch nicely for swaddling, and they somehow wash up better when your kid spits up on them. If you can fit it in the budget, it's one of the few premium items I really suggest.

How do you clean those cute crochet teething toys?
With a lot of patience, which is why I've a love/hate relationship with mine. You have to spot clean them with mild soap and water, and if they get really dirty, you've to hand wash them in cold water and lay them flat to dry. Don't put them in the dryer unless you want a shrunken, lumpy deer head.

Do suction bowls seriously stop a toddler from throwing their food?
They stop the casual, accidental knocks and they slow down a determined toddler. The silicone piglet bowl I use has a really strong base, but if my kid figures out where the little release tab is, all bets are off. It buys me enough time to turn around and grab a paper towel, which is honestly all I can ask for.