Another visit to the maternal health nurse, another couple of entries on your graphs.
I haven't talked here much about how hard it is to look after you. I haven't talked about how frustrated I get with you. I haven't gone into the times when I just want to put you down and walk away and close the door.
Those times happen, punkin, they do. Being as tired as we are (your mother more than I, she's the one who gets up to feed you at 3am when I just snuffle and roll over), faced with the constant barrage of your demands, it gets tough. When we don't know what's wrong or how to fix it, all we have is an inconsolable child, throwing his head back and wailing incessantly.
To put it mildly, this gets tiring. It gets tiring, and frustrating, and maddening, and tough to take. Several times a day, your mum and I perform the 'screaming baby swap', in which the parent who has been bearing the brunt of your cries and grumpiness to that point handpasses you to the other, often without warning. One can be sitting in front of the TV, punkling, or reading a book, or playing videogames, and have a child land unbidden in one's lap. It's some insane parody of the miracle of birth, except there's no doctors there and there's CERTAINLY no midwives who will come and look after you so we can get some sleep.
Having said that, it only takes one look from you, one grin or cheeky smile, and it all melts away. I fall in love with you ten times a day, punkin, and that's never going to change.
Love you.
3 comments:
My lovely wee boy,
Yes we are tired, yes we get frustrated, and yes we should be wearing 'L' plates... as you learn what it is to live in this world, I am learning what it is to be a parent (as is your dad of course). Sometimes, I haven't got a clue - kind of like having to do an exam where you haven't studied and skipped all your classes (hello A Level General Studies).
Your dad talks a lot about the peaks and troughs of our experiences as parents, but sometimes the general day to day stuff is the most amazing, the way you grip my finger when feeding, or the burbly sounds you make as you lie in your bassinette, looking up at the apple tree. The honks and snonks you make as you sleep, the high note you hit (with vibrato, no less) on that last wail that you belt out before realising you've been picked up ad you're safe in my arms, your starfish hands, or the wonky gummy grin that you do as you're just about to crash into a deep sleep that renders you deadweight in our arms... all these things, they're almost involuntary, you may not even be aware that you're doing them, but to me, they are things that are becoming familiar to me, they are the things that make you unique, they are the things that I treasure.
They are the things that make you my lovely wee boy.
Oh, and by the way, after missing all those classes, I got an A in General Studies.
xxx
yeah -- which is annoying as i went to those bl**dy classes and got a D...
honestly x
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