Tonight, at 7:20 p.m., I will have spent 30 years on this earth, outside of my mother's womb.
It occurs to me that 30 years and nine months and two weeks ago, I was the combination of a single sperm cell and an egg, in the bodies of two different people. That right there is mind-blowing. Two people came together to make a new one. I was once divided--two separate entities.
In my mind, it is a beautiful thing. It's wondrous; magical, even. It's like we're getting older as a species, the way a single individual gets older--particularly in regard to the development of intelligence. As a population, we've grown smart. We can tell how babies are made to the tiniest detail.
Shifting gears to the present--
Today is the Year of Our Lord Feb. 27, 2012, the date of the 30th anniversary of my birth at the hands of Craig Smith and Kathleen Brooks.
My parents are both married to this day, and couldn't live without one another. They probably will each have their own internal reactions to that statement, but I believe it to be truly true.
As such, I am a lucky son, man, and father. I have a wealth of good, positive experiences to look back on, from my infancy to my late teens. There's always negativity, but it was never at the hands of my parents.
I was always the negative one.... curse you Marilyn Manson and my teenage disdain for authority.
ANYWAY! *** ••• *** ∞∞∞
Right now, I am heating the last frozen bag of breast milk to feed BB. Megan's done pumping, the milk supply is slowly, predictably running shorter, and BB is nine months old.
She's only got the two bottom teeth sticking through, which means that ALL THE REST OF THEM must be growing and causing her pain, most likely at night when she keeps waking up.
Oh. My goodness. Let me tell you about last night. The adventures in sleeping with these kids sometimes, I swear.
So since the younguns and I are all getting over our respective sicknesses, we're all tired and yucky and almost not as happy as usual. It's just the way of sickness, ya know? Just a minor sore throat-deal for me. I've got snot, and so do they, but we all seem to be getting over it.
Combined with the sickness and the teething, BB has not been sleeping well at night for the past week. Last night was no exception. Megan went to sleep with Lucy at 9, and I played Skyrim for the first time. I put BB to bed just before that, and she stood up in her crib and cried at the door for about a full half hour, which seemed much longer. It makes me feel that instinctual parental guilt to hear her cry, but I'm pretty good at shutting that off now.
Benefits of age?
After Skyrim glitched and froze before real gameplay began, I turned it off and watched tv until bed. I get Megan, and we go to our bed together.
Over the course of about 20 or 30 minutes, both kids are making sounds--BB in our room, whimpering once every 5 min or so, and Lucy, from her room, making faint, then loud cries for help and general "I'm not happy"-ness from her bed.
I couldn't tell if it was Lucy or a faraway siren at first. When I realized it was her, I got out of bed and went to her.
The trouble was over The Case of the Missing Pacifier. She had lost one of two pacifiers about three weeks or so ago, but three or four nights ago, she lost the other one. Mama and I have both looked for it, but Lucy is the last one to have had it, and it's gone.
Explaining this to her does no good, especially in the middle of the night. She's too young anyway. I bet she understands more than she lets on, tho. Or maybe she lacks the language skills to respond adequately. Both? Eh.
The reason she was up and crying was because she didn't have her pacifier. She was angry, complaining, tired, and seemingly miserable. Writhing in bed when I found her. It was like she was having a bad dream she couldn't wake up from. I was able to console her, but she didn't want to cuddle, or hold my thumb, or look at me or anything.
I just laid my arm across her chest, and we lay there in bed, talking for a little while. Whenever I would say, "The pacifier's gone," it would make her cry. She was really sensitive. But, she was also doing it to herself.
I felt sorry for her, because she had been sucking on those things since mama and I sort of forced it on her when she was a baby. I regret that now. I didn't know better as a young parent. Now Lucy is experiencing what looks like withdrawal symptoms from going cold turkey off the pacifier.
But this time I didn't have anything to do with it! She really did lose it herself. I remember--she had woken up from a nap, had it in her mouth, was playing around all through the apartment ... and after a while it was gone.
That night I searched for it before she went to bed. Alas, we came up empty-handed, but I did find a long-lost toy under the couch. We scoured the living room and kitchen. That night, Lucy did fall asleep, but not without some tears and hard questions.
Then, lo and behold, three nights later, the pacifier addiction is keeping her up at night. It was so comforting to her, and it's a harsh dose of reality to lose it so quickly. So she's having a hard time.
Anyway, after laying with her for a while, she kept up this angry veneer, holding her hands up in the air (in protest to how I always tell her to put them down whilst trying to sleep), clapping every once in a while, and generally being a negative nancy. So I got a bit stern and said, "Stop it," in a loud, flat voice, once or twice. It didn't help, of course, but I was groggy, it was past midnight, and my patience was wearing thin.
She didn't stop being angry, so I left. After I shut her door she started the fake crying again. Didn't care.
I couldn't sleep right away. I was thinking of how some parents with violent children must be in a really miserable state, because short of tying them up with ropes, there's not much you can do to stop them. Anger only begets anger, and yelling and hitting are not productive. What if Lucy didn't lose this angry veneer and grow up an angry child and put me in that situation? What would I do? Counseling? What if that didn't help?
Hard thoughts. It is unlikely that life will turn out that way, but I was worried because this new, negative behavior from Lucy was strange and weirding me out. I'm also, sort of, a new parent still.
BB wakes up. It occurs to me I might never get to sleep that night. I keep beginning to drift off, and keep waking up to BB's short, random fusses.
Then Lucy walks into our room. Megan had been sleeping through all of this, but Lucy woke her up. Then Megan got up to get BB. I'd had enough--time for a new strategy. I went to Lucy's bed, alone.
I wake up a little while later. Can't remember if Lucy was in her bed with me or not. I go back to my bed. BB was in the crib, but she wakes up after I lay down. Megan retrieves her and nurses her in bed. I go back to Lucy's bed.
I remember, foggily, Lucy climbing into her bed with me, giving a couple feeble, last frustration sounds, and then falling asleep with me.
Megan wakes me up at 6:45 or so, cause she's about to leave for work.
Surprisingly, right now, and let me take a webcam shot of it for you...
I'm awake and feeling good. And it's my birthday. And BB just sucked down the last bottle of breast milk that she'll... ever ... drink.
I can give her formula from here on out, and she does drink it, but it's not the same. Not as pure as breast milk; not as life-affirming. Megan's boobs are going to stop producing milk soon. We'll lose our baby to natural growth and have two toddlers.
No more baby. Sad and relieving.
You feelin' me, mothers and fathers? It's a complex emotion, watching your kids grow up.
If I ever get the baby itch again in a few years, please remind me of this blog entry.
It occurs to me that 30 years and nine months and two weeks ago, I was the combination of a single sperm cell and an egg, in the bodies of two different people. That right there is mind-blowing. Two people came together to make a new one. I was once divided--two separate entities.
In my mind, it is a beautiful thing. It's wondrous; magical, even. It's like we're getting older as a species, the way a single individual gets older--particularly in regard to the development of intelligence. As a population, we've grown smart. We can tell how babies are made to the tiniest detail.
Shifting gears to the present--
Today is the Year of Our Lord Feb. 27, 2012, the date of the 30th anniversary of my birth at the hands of Craig Smith and Kathleen Brooks.
My parents are both married to this day, and couldn't live without one another. They probably will each have their own internal reactions to that statement, but I believe it to be truly true.
As such, I am a lucky son, man, and father. I have a wealth of good, positive experiences to look back on, from my infancy to my late teens. There's always negativity, but it was never at the hands of my parents.
I was always the negative one.... curse you Marilyn Manson and my teenage disdain for authority.
ANYWAY! *** ••• *** ∞∞∞
Right now, I am heating the last frozen bag of breast milk to feed BB. Megan's done pumping, the milk supply is slowly, predictably running shorter, and BB is nine months old.
She's only got the two bottom teeth sticking through, which means that ALL THE REST OF THEM must be growing and causing her pain, most likely at night when she keeps waking up.
Oh. My goodness. Let me tell you about last night. The adventures in sleeping with these kids sometimes, I swear.
So since the younguns and I are all getting over our respective sicknesses, we're all tired and yucky and almost not as happy as usual. It's just the way of sickness, ya know? Just a minor sore throat-deal for me. I've got snot, and so do they, but we all seem to be getting over it.
Combined with the sickness and the teething, BB has not been sleeping well at night for the past week. Last night was no exception. Megan went to sleep with Lucy at 9, and I played Skyrim for the first time. I put BB to bed just before that, and she stood up in her crib and cried at the door for about a full half hour, which seemed much longer. It makes me feel that instinctual parental guilt to hear her cry, but I'm pretty good at shutting that off now.
Benefits of age?
After Skyrim glitched and froze before real gameplay began, I turned it off and watched tv until bed. I get Megan, and we go to our bed together.
Over the course of about 20 or 30 minutes, both kids are making sounds--BB in our room, whimpering once every 5 min or so, and Lucy, from her room, making faint, then loud cries for help and general "I'm not happy"-ness from her bed.
I couldn't tell if it was Lucy or a faraway siren at first. When I realized it was her, I got out of bed and went to her.
The trouble was over The Case of the Missing Pacifier. She had lost one of two pacifiers about three weeks or so ago, but three or four nights ago, she lost the other one. Mama and I have both looked for it, but Lucy is the last one to have had it, and it's gone.
Explaining this to her does no good, especially in the middle of the night. She's too young anyway. I bet she understands more than she lets on, tho. Or maybe she lacks the language skills to respond adequately. Both? Eh.
The reason she was up and crying was because she didn't have her pacifier. She was angry, complaining, tired, and seemingly miserable. Writhing in bed when I found her. It was like she was having a bad dream she couldn't wake up from. I was able to console her, but she didn't want to cuddle, or hold my thumb, or look at me or anything.
I just laid my arm across her chest, and we lay there in bed, talking for a little while. Whenever I would say, "The pacifier's gone," it would make her cry. She was really sensitive. But, she was also doing it to herself.
I felt sorry for her, because she had been sucking on those things since mama and I sort of forced it on her when she was a baby. I regret that now. I didn't know better as a young parent. Now Lucy is experiencing what looks like withdrawal symptoms from going cold turkey off the pacifier.
But this time I didn't have anything to do with it! She really did lose it herself. I remember--she had woken up from a nap, had it in her mouth, was playing around all through the apartment ... and after a while it was gone.
That night I searched for it before she went to bed. Alas, we came up empty-handed, but I did find a long-lost toy under the couch. We scoured the living room and kitchen. That night, Lucy did fall asleep, but not without some tears and hard questions.
Then, lo and behold, three nights later, the pacifier addiction is keeping her up at night. It was so comforting to her, and it's a harsh dose of reality to lose it so quickly. So she's having a hard time.
Anyway, after laying with her for a while, she kept up this angry veneer, holding her hands up in the air (in protest to how I always tell her to put them down whilst trying to sleep), clapping every once in a while, and generally being a negative nancy. So I got a bit stern and said, "Stop it," in a loud, flat voice, once or twice. It didn't help, of course, but I was groggy, it was past midnight, and my patience was wearing thin.
She didn't stop being angry, so I left. After I shut her door she started the fake crying again. Didn't care.
I couldn't sleep right away. I was thinking of how some parents with violent children must be in a really miserable state, because short of tying them up with ropes, there's not much you can do to stop them. Anger only begets anger, and yelling and hitting are not productive. What if Lucy didn't lose this angry veneer and grow up an angry child and put me in that situation? What would I do? Counseling? What if that didn't help?
Hard thoughts. It is unlikely that life will turn out that way, but I was worried because this new, negative behavior from Lucy was strange and weirding me out. I'm also, sort of, a new parent still.
BB wakes up. It occurs to me I might never get to sleep that night. I keep beginning to drift off, and keep waking up to BB's short, random fusses.
Then Lucy walks into our room. Megan had been sleeping through all of this, but Lucy woke her up. Then Megan got up to get BB. I'd had enough--time for a new strategy. I went to Lucy's bed, alone.
I wake up a little while later. Can't remember if Lucy was in her bed with me or not. I go back to my bed. BB was in the crib, but she wakes up after I lay down. Megan retrieves her and nurses her in bed. I go back to Lucy's bed.
I remember, foggily, Lucy climbing into her bed with me, giving a couple feeble, last frustration sounds, and then falling asleep with me.
Megan wakes me up at 6:45 or so, cause she's about to leave for work.
Surprisingly, right now, and let me take a webcam shot of it for you...
 |
| Last bottle of breast milk, down the hatch. (12.02.27) |
I can give her formula from here on out, and she does drink it, but it's not the same. Not as pure as breast milk; not as life-affirming. Megan's boobs are going to stop producing milk soon. We'll lose our baby to natural growth and have two toddlers.
No more baby. Sad and relieving.
You feelin' me, mothers and fathers? It's a complex emotion, watching your kids grow up.
If I ever get the baby itch again in a few years, please remind me of this blog entry.
***
Here's something else crazy that happened yesterday--I left my band.
For leaving my bandmates out in the cold, I feel bad. But they'll survive. And for hurting my friend Justin Metal, I feel sorrow.
But I am relieved to not have the band to worry about. Between school and the kids, it was another thing adding stress to my life. And that alone was killing me. There was a lot of band drama going on, and I had to end it.
Class. Class! Eyes up front!!
Let's summarize all the weirdness surrounding my 30th b-day today:
• got super drunk at birthday party last Friday, w/many friends--FTW!!
• broke up with my band
• BB drank her last bottle of breast milk
• purchased internet hosting for my website for class, and began building my own website yesterday
• many Facebook friends messaging me (with birthday wishes)
• Megan got me two SWEEEEET video games that I've been wanting to play (see yesterday's post)
• getting cards in the mail (with birthday wishes)
• have to take care of the kids and go to school--which I refuse to skip, even on my birthday
• finding rest an adventure last night
• getting over cold
• It's my 30th!
• I'm realizing, slowly, that I'm no longer a 20-something. Give me a little longer to form an opinion on that--right now I'm ... well, until 7 p.m., I'm still 29.
All of these things together are making this a strange and wonderful birthday.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I encourage comments from any and all readers. Please lay your thoughts on me.