Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Happy/Sad boy

This is my fourth post in participation with the Just Write challenge over at The EO.


You've been awake so much today, which was wonderful because you talked and cooed and smiled at me for the first six hours of the day. But by the time you were tired, you were angry tired. Poor little boy. Your eyes were rimmed with red - you needed sleep so badly. But, my poor baby, you had gas pains too and you fought falling asleep. Even after you finally shut your tired eyes, your sleep was fitful. Jolting awake with tears and anger. I think maybe the big helping of broccoli I had last night did not agree with you. Point taken, Little Man.

You finally fell asleep hard on the way to Momma's meeting tonight and, like I good boy who is considerate of Momma and what she needs to get done, you slept the whole time. So grateful for you. Every day. You woke up just in time to show off your smile to everyone there. You little heart throb you.

But in the car on the way home, you got angry. You lost binky and it pissed you off. Poor kid. At a stop light I reached back and gave it back to you. Not thirty seconds later you spit it out again and were screaming at me. Binky was not gonna cut it. And your cries slay me these days. They have gotten more and more pitiful as you have gotten bigger. When you were brand new, your cries were practically a reason for celebration - use those lungs baby boy! If they meant anything at all, it was simply that you were hungry. Now, you cry because you're angry. You cry because you're sad. You cry because you're tired. You cry because you hurt. And it kills Mommy. I literally have a physical reaction to the sound. So I arch back and stretch to reach you, leaving one hand on the wheel and my eyes on the road. I'm sure this is just about the most unsafe thing I can do. But I can't help it. I know I can comfort you, which makes it impossible for me not to. I let you suck on my finger, and you're semi-content. Irritated that I'm trying to trick you, but appeased for now.

As soon as we're home, it's straight to the couch. Boppy, burp rag, nursing. You're frantic - like you've been starving for days. After a few minutes, you finally start to calm. A few minutes more, and you're my happy boy again. I'm so relieved. My heart is literally warm. Maybe a little fuzzy. I'm staring at your face and I lean in closer and closer until our noses are almost touching. Hello, my son.


  1. You give me the fever... even though this is probably the hard part of being a mom. You do a great job of showing love rather than frustration. xo Em

  2. you are a perfect student of the School of Mom taught by God and practice. You're doing so wonderfully well. I give you an A+ :-)

  3. You are such a mom . . . a loving, compassionate, caring mom who desires to meet the needs of her "little man" with every ounce of nurturing strength possible. Drake has been truly blessed to be born into a home where love abounds . . . to have a mom (and a dad) like to two of you.