Don't You Want Me Like I Want You Baby?

I was standing at the kitchen island yesterday, attempting to eat a cold piece of toast while packing up a stack of orders for my Etsy shop, when my grandmother dropped the classic line she always reserves for moments of maximum chaos. My nine-month-old daughter was practically attached to my shin, screaming as if the floor had turned to lava just because I stepped two feet away to grab the packing tape. My grandma took a sip of her sweet tea and said, "You know, if you pick her up every time she whines, you're just manipulating her to be clingy, bless her heart."

I didn't even have the energy to argue. I just scooped my daughter up onto my hip, swayed back and forth, and started humming that ROSÉ and Bruno Mars song that has been playing on a loop in my brain since October. I looked down at my tear-streaked daughter and literally sang the lyric out loud to her: don't you want me like i want you baby? Because honestly, I'm just gonna be real with you—that's exactly what her dramatic little screams translate to right now.

If you're in the thick of this intensely clingy phase, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You can't pee alone, you can't cook a single meal using both hands, and the minute you walk out of their line of sight, the world absolutely ends. It's exhausting, it's loud, and despite what the older generation loves to tell us, it's completely out of our control.

The cautionary tale of my oldest kid

I wish I could say I’ve always been so relaxed about ignoring the "tough love" advice, but my oldest son, Liam, is my walking cautionary tale. When he hit this stage five years ago, I was a nervous first-time mom who listened to everything my older relatives told me. They swore up and down that I needed to let him cry it out on the floor so he would learn independence, making me feel like an absolute failure for wanting to comfort my own kid.

So, I tried it. I'd put him down, walk into the other room, and listen to him hyperventilate while my stomach tied itself in knots. Y'all, it was a disaster. It didn't make him independent, it just made him a nervous wreck who panicked twice as hard the second I even looked at the front door. He ended up having separation anxiety way longer than my middle child, who I just wore in a carrier all day. I learned the hard way that ignoring a baby's panic doesn't build character, it just builds a kid who thinks his mom is a flight risk.

The "object permanence" lightbulb moment

At our last checkup, my pediatrician, Dr. Miller, kind of explained the science behind what's actually happening in their squishy little brains around eight or nine months, and it made so much sense. Before this age, if you leave the room, you basically cease to exist to them—out of sight, literally out of mind.

But suddenly, a developmental switch flips and they figure out this concept called object permanence. They realize that mom is a separate human being who just walked out the door, but because they've absolutely zero concept of time, they don't know if you ran to the laundry room to switch out a load of towels or if you boarded a plane to start a new life in Florida. To them, five seconds feels exactly the same as five hours, hence the absolute meltdown when you turn your back.

I've read somewhere that when we disappear, their little stress hormones—cortisol, I think it's called?—just spike out of control, and if we come right back and comfort them, it washes that stress away and supposedly protects their brain development, or at least that's how I understand the medical jargon.

A rant about the "spoiled baby" myth

I just need to take a minute to rant about the ridiculous societal pressure to have these perfectly solitary, independent babies. You log onto Instagram and there's always some beige-wearing influencer posting aesthetic videos of her infant sitting quietly in a neutral-colored playpen for three hours while she drinks hot matcha. Good for her, truly, but that's not reality for 99 percent of us.

Then you go to the grocery store in your yoga pants with spit-up on the shoulder, and some boomer in the produce aisle feels the need to comment that your baby wouldn't cry so much in the cart if you didn't "spoil" them with cuddles at home. It makes my blood boil. You can't spoil a baby who literally relies on you for survival, and the idea that a nine-month-old has the cognitive ability to mastermind a manipulative plot to ruin your grocery trip is just absurd.

Babies are quite literally built to need us, so any advice telling you to artificially force independence on an infant belongs in the trash.

Gear that actually helps (and some that doesn't)

Since I can't clone myself, I've had to figure out a few workarounds to get through the day when my baby wants me like I want her. Dr. Miller suggested trying a transitional object, which is basically just a fancy doctor word for a toy or blanket that smells like mom and gives them a little comfort when you've to walk away.

I'm just gonna be real with you, I was so desperate to be able to put her down just to go to the bathroom that I bought the Crochet Deer Rattle Teething Toy and actually slept with it shoved inside my pajama top for two nights. I looked ridiculous, but it absorbed my scent. Now, when I've to step into the pantry, I hand her this little wooden ring. The organic cotton deer head is super soft on her gums, and the rattling sound distracts her for exactly 14 seconds, which is just enough time for me to grab the snacks I need without a full-blown meltdown. At its price point, it's totally worth tossing in your cart because the wooden ring doesn't have any of those weird chemical finishes I worry about.

If you're tired of scrolling through baby products that look like plastic junk and want to find things that are honestly safe for your budget and your baby's mouth, you can browse Kianao's wooden and organic teething collections whenever you finally get a minute to yourself.

Now, while we're on the subject of things that keep them distracted while you step away, let's talk about mealtime. I also picked up the Waterproof Rainbow Baby Bib thinking the bright silicone design and the food-catcher pocket would magically keep her happily occupied in her high chair while I loaded the dishwasher. It's just okay. I mean, it completely does its job—it catches all the soggy crackers she drops and it takes me two seconds to wipe it clean—but let's not pretend a BPA-free piece of silicone is going to stop the separation anxiety tears when you turn your back to scrub a pot. It's a great bib, but it's not a babysitter.

Eventually, around 12 to 14 months, they hit this funny stage where they actively want to walk away from you to explore, but they still panic if you walk away from them. Once my youngest started trying to pull up on the furniture and cruise around the living room to follow me, I realized her slippery little socks were making her frustrated. We got her a pair of the Baby Sneakers Non-Slip Soft Sole First Shoes because I refuse to pay forty dollars for rigid baby shoes that they'll outgrow in six weeks. These have a nice pliable sole that bends when she tries to walk, and they genuinely stay on her feet so she can confidently follow me into the bathroom instead of crying on the rug.

How I survive the day-to-day clinginess

Beyond leaning on a few helpful products, you just have to figure out a routine that keeps you sane while acknowledging that your baby is going to be mildly annoyed with you no matter what.

My doctor told me that playing an absurd amount of peek-a-boo helps prove to them that you always come back, and even though I feel like a complete fool hiding behind a dish towel fifty times a morning, it seriously does seem to take the edge off her panic. You really want to avoid sneaking out the back door or tiptoeing out of the room when they aren't looking, because that just makes them paranoid that you might vanish at any second, so instead I just try to give her a big squeeze and confidently say "Mommy will be right back" even if she immediately starts wailing.

It's messy, it's loud, and some days I end up just wearing her on my back while I vacuum the rugs because it's easier than fighting the battle.

If you're currently hiding in the pantry eating stale crackers just to get a minute of peace from a clingy toddler, go grab yourself a hot cup of coffee (even if you've to microwave it for the third time today) and check out Kianao's sustainable baby goods to find a few gentle, organic comforts that might make this exhausting phase a little bit softer on both of y'all.

Frequently Asked Questions (From One Tired Mom to Another)

How long does this super clingy phase honestly last?

If we're trusting the textbooks, it usually peaks between 14 and 18 months, but honestly, every kid is different. My oldest clung to me like a barnacle until he was well over two, while my middle child kind of got over it by 15 months. It slowly fades as they realize that you always come back, but you're definitely in for a few months of having a tiny shadow.

Is it normal for them to only want Mom and scream when Dad holds them?

Oh, 100 percent. It used to make my husband so sad, and frankly, it made me furious because I just wanted a break, but it's totally normal. They usually pick one primary caregiver to be their "safe space" during this anxiety leap. You just have to push through the guilt and hand them over to your partner anyway so you can take a shower, because their bond will never grow if Dad doesn't get a chance to soothe them.

Should I just let them cry if I desperately need to take a shower?

Yeah, please go take a shower. There's a massive difference between locking your baby in a dark room to cry it out for an hour and putting them safely in their crib for ten minutes so you can wash your hair and preserve your mental health. They might scream the entire time you're lathering your shampoo, but they're safe, and you need to be clean to function.

What exactly is a transitional object, and do I really need one?

It's just a comfort item—like a small blanket, a soft lovie, or a safe wooden teether—that they associate with you and with feeling secure. You don't technically *have* to have one, but having a designated item that smells like you that you can hand over when you drop them off at daycare or leave them with grandma makes the transition so much less traumatic for everyone involved.

Does starting daycare make separation anxiety worse?

At first, it absolutely feels like it makes it worse because the drop-offs are usually brutal and tear-filled. But in my experience, once they get used to the routine of you leaving and always coming back to pick them up a few hours later, it genuinely helps them grasp that whole object permanence concept a lot faster. Just stick to a quick, happy goodbye ritual and don't drag it out!