My daughter has FOMO. That’s the only explanation I can think of. It starts about the time I get tired, every night. What I want is to sit down for few minutes, possibly read, maybe just stare ahead and anticipate the cold IPA I’m planning to open.
Not Collins. She knows. There are things happening out there. If not with me, then somewhere. So she makes sure she is awake.
Just. In. Case.
What I find funny is this: she really only knows Jessica and I. Oh, sure, she knows other folks, but we’re the ones she’s trying to keep up with.
So when do we tell her just how boring we are?
Really, I imagine newborn life is weirdly like Facebook. She posts something to her Facebook friends. That would be, you know, us…And then she waits for a response. “Hey guys, shouldn’t you hit like? Maybe comment?” We do, of course. We don’t let her go unacknowledged. She’s happy.
But then, just like our inability to discern FB from real life, it’s not enough. Now she knows that we do other things. Sometimes she’s awake and we’re not right there. Just like sometimes you pay attention to your actual job instead of trolling FB for pithy comment opportunities.
Now she wants to know what she’s missing. We’re on the couch, so Big Couch Party, right? And who would sleep through that?
She chirps, she fights sleep. She drifts off and shocks herself when she realizes we’ve moved, even a little. She’s ready to party.
Soon she’ll realize that her parents are just two tired people who just want to binge-watch Shark Tank and open a bottle of wine.
For now, though, we are party central. I am the arbiter of all funny faces, while Jessica is in charge of the Vegas-style foam parties (bath time gets sudsy, you know).
If Collins wants more of that, as her fear of missing out is all about us, then I’m ok with it.
That such a perfect little thing wants me, that keeps me sane when my fears rear up, walking out the door to work, eating lunch, catching a bus home, wondering about the tummy time I didn’t see, the smile I missed, the cries I couldn’t soothe.
FOMO hits ’em old these days, too.