Sometimes, a baby not feeling well results in beautiful moments. In this case, pure fatigue that allowed for a much-needed nap with dad.
He yelled at us because we didn’t give him milk. And because we gave him milk. Or because he wanted food. Or because we gave him food. He threw food at us. He screamed. He bawled. He pushed our faces away from his, rather than giving his usual, sweet-little-boy hugs. He was over-tired, but wouldn’t sleep. Stumbled, fell, and had very dramatic reactions. But wouldn’t stop trying to climb furniture. He seemed simultaneously bored out of his mind, and completely over-stimulated. Our response was pretty much to turn Daniel Tiger on, and shrivel up on the couch to await Brock’s final destination of sleep. Was there a better solution? I still don’t know. But we were too tired to even think of anything else.
This all set the stage for a tough Monday start for my husband – who made a foggy-brained, sleep-deprived, 50-minute commute to work only to discover that he’d left his laptop at home after working from home on Thursday and Friday. Back he came, and at his home desk he sits.
I keep wondering how these women with hair flowing beautifully down their backs, and an easy-breezy jaunt in their step do it. How does that woman in my neighborhood go jogging with a double stroller, a dog on a leash, and all that energy? Even more importantly: Does she get to take a shower after that mid-afternoon jog? Why do I feel like I never get to shower? My son is in daycare 3 days a week and I still can’t work this in half the time!
I asked my husband, What are we missing? How do other people do this? Why does it feel SO HARD to us? Is it JUST US?
I suppose the answer is that it’s not just us. What I continually find astounding as a parent is that billions of people worldwide go through this “unique” experience in their lifetimes. And yet so many aspects feel so hushed. How are so many people around the globe acting like this isn’t happening to them? Why do we all feel like it’s just us? Is it really that bad to admit it’s hard? Do people think we love our kids less if we admit they’re a pain sometimes? Trust me: This is hard. And I LOVE my kid. More than anything else. I ADORE him.
I’m trying my best to embrace these hard days, and not let them get me upset. They come and go – and as I told my husband, we’re blessed that we don’t have a kid who’s like this all the time. THAT would be rough. I do find that I’m much more prone to frustration and anxiety when I’m this exhausted, though – and I start to lose my temper at times. The thing I try to remember, is that Brock is a little person. Not just an extension of me that I can control. He’s his own little being, a unique soul with his own sensitivities, and he goes through bad days. That tends to make bad days for me as well, which is unfortunate – but it’s most certainly not his fault. I can be frustrated and tired, but certainly not angry with him. It’s critical for parents to remind themselves of this.
Lovely little guy that he is, Brock did make us laugh a couple of times. Once when he made his dad get off the rocking chair in his room: We thought he was going to show Tony something, but instead, he’d pulled Tony off so he could climb up – and back down, and up, and down, and up again. (Brock was obsessed with the rocking chair this weekend.) And second, when he stood up in his bed after much crying, pacing, and yammering, to stare directly into the camera perched over his bed. I’m not sure if he was glaring at us or just trying to get our attention, but it was pretty amusing and I was a tad surprised he didn’t actually try to tell us how mad he was that we were trying to get him to sleep. I’m sure that will happen as more words evolve in the coming months.
Now, Brock is at daycare – hopefully not being too much of a wreck. And I’m off to complete my busy day. Which I hope will include a good, long shower.
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