I want apologize to my readers for not keeping up the blog lately. I know both of you must have been disappointed. The truth is, I have been working a lot and when I get home all I want to do is hang out with my son.
Daycare is going well. I drop Max off around 6:30 in the morning on my way to work. I don’t mind driving him. We have some nice father/son conversations. Naturally, I do all of the talking. Right now it is still dark that early in the morning and I can’t tell if he is really listening. I can only hear Max jabbering in the backseat. (He is probably just mocking me.)
It is just a short drive to the daycare. We can usually make it in about 8-10 minutes. 99% of the time it is uneventful. There have been a couple of cranky mornings when Max needed a pacifier. On those mornings it didn’t take long for me to master the ability to find his pacifier and then his mouth without taking my eyes off the road and still having one hand on the wheel. I might poke him in the eye or the ear, but eventually the pacifier makes it into his mouth. Then he is usually quiet and content until I drop him off.
We did have kind of an exciting morning before daycare this past Wednesday.
It was about 5:30 am and I awoke to the sound of my son screaming and crying. I mean, red faced, losing his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks crying. I hadn’t heard him squall like that since Shannon clipped his finger while trimming his little nails. (That is a whole other story…he was sobbing, Shannon was sobbing…) Max doesn’t usually get upset like that so I hurried into his room to see what was wrong.
“What is the matter?” I said through bloodshot, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know,” said Shannon, “he has a clean diaper, he slept good. I think he is hungry but he won’t eat and I really need to feed him or pump.” I went in the kitchen to warm a bottle for Max so Shannon could “relieve some pressure”. (I don’t know what PSI her chest gets to, but I bet it is pretty high.)
So I am sitting in the chair holding my crying son. His eyes are red and his cheeks are wet from tears. I put the bottle in his mouth and his wailing softens to a sob. After about 20 seconds I hear a rumble in his little tummy. Just then he lets go with a phttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt in his diaper. I could feel the fabric pouch filling against my forearm. It was like the Old Faithful geyser. Within seconds a little odor wafted up to my nose. “Peww!” I said. “Buddy, you stink” . He stopped eating and a big smile came over his face. He was happy for the rest of the day.
If only life were always that simple.
Daycare is going well. I drop Max off around 6:30 in the morning on my way to work. I don’t mind driving him. We have some nice father/son conversations. Naturally, I do all of the talking. Right now it is still dark that early in the morning and I can’t tell if he is really listening. I can only hear Max jabbering in the backseat. (He is probably just mocking me.)
It is just a short drive to the daycare. We can usually make it in about 8-10 minutes. 99% of the time it is uneventful. There have been a couple of cranky mornings when Max needed a pacifier. On those mornings it didn’t take long for me to master the ability to find his pacifier and then his mouth without taking my eyes off the road and still having one hand on the wheel. I might poke him in the eye or the ear, but eventually the pacifier makes it into his mouth. Then he is usually quiet and content until I drop him off.
We did have kind of an exciting morning before daycare this past Wednesday.
It was about 5:30 am and I awoke to the sound of my son screaming and crying. I mean, red faced, losing his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks crying. I hadn’t heard him squall like that since Shannon clipped his finger while trimming his little nails. (That is a whole other story…he was sobbing, Shannon was sobbing…) Max doesn’t usually get upset like that so I hurried into his room to see what was wrong.
“What is the matter?” I said through bloodshot, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know,” said Shannon, “he has a clean diaper, he slept good. I think he is hungry but he won’t eat and I really need to feed him or pump.” I went in the kitchen to warm a bottle for Max so Shannon could “relieve some pressure”. (I don’t know what PSI her chest gets to, but I bet it is pretty high.)
So I am sitting in the chair holding my crying son. His eyes are red and his cheeks are wet from tears. I put the bottle in his mouth and his wailing softens to a sob. After about 20 seconds I hear a rumble in his little tummy. Just then he lets go with a phttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt in his diaper. I could feel the fabric pouch filling against my forearm. It was like the Old Faithful geyser. Within seconds a little odor wafted up to my nose. “Peww!” I said. “Buddy, you stink” . He stopped eating and a big smile came over his face. He was happy for the rest of the day.
If only life were always that simple.
1 comment:
Well, just think how bad your tummy feels sometimes and you'll know what Max was going through! My mother always says there is more room on the outside than the inside. :)
~Amanda
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