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| He should do this more often (View More Photos) |
Sarah was gone all day yesterday. Her sister is ill, blah blah blah. Read yesterday's post if you don't know the background. Well, Sarah called me around, I don't know, 6ish to tel me that they were heading to the hospital because her sis wasn't doing so well.
Oh hey, look, a tangent. Mind if I jump on it? I love all of Sarah's sisters (3 of them) as if they are my own sisters. Heck, I consider them my own sisters. It breaks my heart that she's hurting, and I sincerely wish her the best. I'll be giving her a giant hug tomorrow.
*jumps off the tangent*
So, Sarah's at the hospital and will be on her way home soon. Fine by me, no problem, take your time.
She got home around 8p or so. After giving Sarah her X's and O's, I scooped Tyler up to give him some lovins too. He responded by screaming.
After a bit, I read him "The Alphabet Book", by Dr. Seuss, and "I Know an Old Lady". Tyler still had wide eyes, so I sang the alphabet song to him, forwards and backwards (yes, I am that good. Sarah asked how the heck I did that, the first time she heard me. I don't care if you can say the alphabet backwards, you have to sing it to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"), and then read him some farm book. I dressed him in his jammies, and carried him upstairs.
I put Tyler in his crib and told him that I love him forever and ever... And he screamed. I gave him his paci and he calmed down and closed his eyes. Upon crossing my left foot over the threshold between his room and freedom... errr... I mean the hallway, he spit the paci out and screamed.
He continued to scream at me while I held him, quietly shushing him and telling him it's time to make his night-nights come. He continued to scream while I walked with him, swayed him, and rocked him. That's about the time where I became "irrational dad". I started wondering why Tyler doesn't like me, if he'll ever learn to love me, and what I did to make him feel that way towards me. I can't be the only person to have ever felt that. At least, I hope I'm not the only one.
The logical part of me (94%, according to some bloodwork I got back in March) tells me that I'm being, well, irrational. I know that he's used to being put to bed by Sarah. I know that he prefers to fall asleep at the boob, although we *try* to discourage that. BUT... Irrational dad is screaming at me, telling me I'm a horrible father, and he's quite convincing.
Tyler finally fell asleep, so I put him in his crib. I headed downstairs so that Sarah and I could watch a couple episodes of Dexter (awesome, albeit a little dark, show. We're halfway thru season 1). About 10 minutes in, something caught my eye. I looked over towards the coffee table to see what moved. Nothing. Must've been my imagination. But, wait, I see it again! The arch of lights on the baby monitor flickered. Just the first light. I watched the monitor with suspenseful anticipation, as if it was going to sprout legs and start dancing any moment now.
"Please Lord, let it just be a fart."
As if on cue, all 6 lights sprang to life. The flickering lights, a perfect visual compliment to the cries that seemed to be originating from the upper level. Watson, my dear friend, I do believe that our guest has awakened. The word that formed across my lips starts with an "s" and rhymes with "hit". On I trudged my way up the stairs, I mumbled something about my son hating me.
I put my hand on Tyler's chest. After telling him he was safe and that his mommy and daddy were still here, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
About 10 minutes later, something caught my eye. A glimmer of red light. Do you see where this is going? Sarah said she'd go up. A few minutes later, she brought him downstairs and put him to the boob. He ate very lazily, then fell asleep.
FOR 7 HOURS. Is it considered bad form to call one's own son a jerk? I'm pretty sure he did that on purpose, just to spite me.
2 comments:
its ok. i know for a fact that my son hates me several times a day. well, his version of hate mostly involving sleeping or denying him something.
meh.
Scottish comedian Billy Connolly was talking about his kids and their inconsistencies: "They're bastards. They're bastards and they do it on purpose!"
'Bout right. Don't worry, he'll do it to your wife sometimes too!
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