Sympathy Pain

Let me tell you about 2 mother’s in my life. First, my mom. My mom is a baby boomer. Her dad was in World War II in the Philippines. She is the oldest of 3, the other 2 twins. They were raised in “the mill village, in Jasper Alabama. This was a group of homes built for the workers of the local mill. They didn’t have much, but they had family. My mother never completed high school, but got her GED with me on her hip in the mid seventies. My mom has worked in the same factory for 25 years. Nothing flashy, but she helped pay the bills and feed us. I grew up beside my mom at the church piano. She played for our tiny Baptist church and sang specials every 2 or 3 weeks. She never missed a Sunday, unless my sister or I were sick. I learned my “The show must go on” attitude from her. I also learned my love of music and singing from her. She came alive at the piano and while playing and singing. My mom is a very loving and gentle soul. She has a problem with expressing herself through words, but I always knew that she love my sister and I with all she had. I love my mom.

Now for the mom who has my heart. Sarah is an amazing woman and mother. I remember when we started dating she was very positive about not wanting children. Because of that, I didn’t know how she would react to my son. They work together amazingly. I couldn’t imagine him without her influence. I am so blessed to have her in his life. Then one night, about a year and a half ago, she ask me…”why don’t you want to have a child with me?” I reminded her that she was staunchly set against it from the get go, and I would love to have a child with her. Now I have another son and she is every bit of the amazing mother that I knew she would be. She has a very loving nature with children. She understands them and knows how to have fun and be the parent at the same time. I also love to watch her interact with Jack and Tony. She’s simply…amazing. I love her with all my heart.

I am the middle of the night feeding pro in the house. Sarah gets up early, so she takes care of the butt crack of dawn feeding. But if you read this you know that already.

Last night Tony was a little…well…awake. He talks to himself when he wakes up, or grunts. So by the time the 3: oo am feeding came up, I had already been up and down a few times. So I was slightly sleepy.

Tony ate like he hadn’t in days, and then was wide awake. We played some. I held him and sang to him. He was in a very good mood. It made me less sleepy, but still, sleepy none the less.

Then I heard it. As I reclined on the couch and he lay on my chest, I heard it. It was this cross between a cough and a burp. A noise made in the back of the throat which means…”MOVE!!!”. I was no longer sleepy at all.

Wow! I knew I had only feed him 6 ounces, but a gallon of formula and bile came out of that sweet little mouth that, only moments earlier, had been laughing and cooing. It hit my chest and soaked every part of my torso. I laid him down, after the explosion, and tried to take the shirt off without getting the stuff all over my head and hair. It didn’t happen. I grabbed the “Wet Ones” and gave myself an unsatisfying sponge bath, while standing in the kitchen.

The whole time, I heard this cute little voice giggling in the back ground. He knows funny.

I remember the feeling I had after the divorce. My give a damn was very low if not nonexistent. I felt like I was walking through Jello most days. The only time I felt anything was with Jack, and even that was forced at time. Life wasn’t that bad. I had a nice job. I had begun dating again. I was doing theatre again. I felt like I was going through the paces of the life I thought I deserved…but didn’t feel much.

My ex-wife had said I needed therapy before the divorce. Said I had “anger issues”. I had a short fuse about small things…never really at anyone, most at myself. But she saw those little explosions and didn’t like that person. I started realizing those explosions where something I saw in my father…but he directed them at those around him. Instead of getting mad the last suitcase just wouldn’t fit in the trunk, he’d get mad at mom for moving the remote. I felt myself getting that way with my son as an infant. I would get really overwhelmed with him…and realized that was my father’s MO. Get to the point of no return and blow up. I didn’t want to continue that legacy.

Those two things are what sent me to a shrink. I remember thinking I was weak for wanting help. Maybe a little crazy. I expected her to tell me to grow a pair and get over it. Man up and control you issues. But that wasn’t it at all. I talked over tons of memories and thoughts with her. I analyzed myself and my reactions for the first time from an objective level. She put me on Lexapro…and anti anxiety/depression drug. A low dose but enough to help.

I’m a better person now. I still take Lexapro. It evens me out. It helps me think more clearly and process information faster. I don’t feel overwhelmed with Tony…almost ever. I feel more deeply than I ever allowed myself before. I like who I am now. I’m very proud of my decision to get help.

Just an honest look…from me to you.

I’ve been the drop off man for tony for as long as he’s gone to daycare. Sarah has done it a couple times, but for the most part it’s my job. I actually enjoy doing it. It’s a good 15 minutes to his day care, which we sing and laugh through most mornings, then another 5 to 10 minutes relaying info to the staff. They have a chart to fill out last feeding and last diaper…and what was in it. We then chat about how he’s doing and what happened the day before. It’s a good start to the day.

I have noticed a few things about other parents that drop off the children that I’d like to share and comment on:

Cell phone use…hang up your phone long enough to relay information, talk about your child, and say goodbye to them. You’re not dropping off your cleaning.

Separation anxiety… Don’t feed it. It’s best to stay just long enough to talk to the teacher, get the child distracted onto something shiny, and then leave. Don’t keep saying good bye. You’re just making it worse. Also your child is not going to be permanently damaged if you don’t say goodbye a dozen times.

Cigarettes…just a pet peeve. Why on earth do you have to smoke while your infant is strapped into the back seat? AND I really hate those smoking while on the cell phone as they set in line to drop off. Argh!

Those are the few for today. I found that drop off is a great time to spend with the people who take care of your child. Take the opportunity and turn off the rest of your day.

About a month ago, Sarah sent me this really cool link. Someone had attached a camera…some disposable job…to a park bench and invited folks to take pictures. Some were of themselves…others of things around the bench. It was like a day in the life of the bench. It was pretty interesting.

So, I got this idea. I proposed to Sarah on a park bench at our local park. I decided to take the idea of the “day in the life” one step further. I planned on attaching a camera and leaving a note explaining the connection between the bench and my family and ask people to shot away. I then planned on taking those shots and making a coffee table book for our new house. I was going to use the note as a front page of the book.

So Tuesday I set my plan in motion. I figured that would give me time to get the pictures on a disk, upload them to “My Publisher” and get the book back by mother’s day. I was outta town most of this week and it’s supposed to rain this weekend, so Tuesday had to be the day.

I dropped Tony off at daycare and swung by the park. I used some aircraft cable… it’s good to work in theatre… and attached the camera and left the note. The plan was in motion.

That evening, after dropping Jack off at his house, I raced through Wal-Mart and grabbed a couple things. I figured that would explain why it took me so long to get home. I then raced to the park…

And the camera was gone.

TALLAHASSEE, Fla. - They’re proudly displayed by any self-respecting bull, but dangling big metal ones on the back end of a truck could be banned in Florida.

Metal replicas of bull testicles have become trendy bumper ornaments in some parts of the Sunshine State, but state Sen. Carey Baker is campaigning to ban the orbs.

Baker acknowledged that Florida lawmakers have more pressing issues, including huge revenue shortfalls, but said the state needs to draw a line on what’s obscene before more objectionable adornments appear.

State Sen. Steve Geller argued against Baker’s bill.

“I find it shocking that we should be telling people that have the metallic bull testicles … you’re now going to have points on your license for this,” said Geller.

Geller was in the minority. Baker’s bill to fine drivers $60 for displaying the ornaments passed the Senate. It’s now up to the House, but there’s only a slim chance that members of that chamber would pass the measure before the session ends this coming Friday.

If it were to be passed, Gov. Charlie Crist has not indicated whether he would sign it, although he has not been too critical of this and other not-so-pressing issues.

“It’s good to have some things that maybe aren’t quite as serious. Got to have a little levity,” the governor said.

A similar bill in Virginia, aimed at rubber trailer hitch replicas of human genitalia, died in committee this year.

This week has been crazy. Sunday was the day of Jack being sick. I didn’t mention that after I dropped him off I raced across town to look at a house. It was awesome. We decided to make an offer.

Monday…Work, which was a trip to the middle of the state…about 2 hours one way. Next to the emergency room with Jack and his faking dehydration (I kid…he was pretty sick). I think it was sometime Monday that they countered our offer and we countered back. I think we got Tivo that night as well. It’s awesome!

Tuesday…let’s see. Oh yes, they accepted our offer, after saying they had to take the curtains…but leave the plantain blinds. I didn’t even notice the curtains. Sarah also got a fabulous job offer. I’m very excited for her. It’s a great program to be involved with.

Wednesday…lots of paper work figuring and talking to loan officers and insurance folks. That’s also the day I found out…I have the Apnea. Dum dum dum!!! I got to play with the Binja that evening. Sarah went to help out the Shickles with the new baby and her big sister.

Thursday…inspection on the house. It is in amazing shape. Then on to pick up Jack, make fudge for the daycare’s spring fling, and Baseball. We lost 21-20. Straight from there to the sleep clinic. It’s weird sleeping with a mask that keeps blowing air up your nose.

Today? Furniture shopping at lunch…and who knows what the evening holds. We have my Grandmother’s birthday celebration tomorrow and Jack’s basketball banquet Sunday.

It’s how we roll in our house.

We had Jack this weekend. It started out great. Everybody was healty-ish. We made pizza. He won his 2^nd baseball game. We played Putt-Putt. There was a lot of Wii. It was a pretty good weekend. Until Sunday.

Jack has a tendency to have sudden illness when he doesn’t want to do something or when he’s sucking at an activity. If he has a bad day at baseball, it’s because his stomach hurts. It’s never because he isn’t paying attention. It’s never because he’s just being 7. It’s a headache…or a pain in his leg…or a tumor.

So when he was having a stomach attack while not being able to throw a Frisbee, I figured it was just his way of saying he wanted to play Wii more than Frisbee. So, Sarah and I said, we’ll go back home, but no Wii.

He seemed fine when we got home, we joked around, until it was time to go look at a house we were thinking about buying. Suddenly his stomach ache came back. Again, because we were making him do something he didn’t want to do.

Let’s skip ahead to today…for dramatic effect. The ER doctor decided he didn’t need an IV if he could keep his sprite down and pass urine at the hospital. That’s right. We were maybe 3 miles from the house when up came is breakfast. It was like that through the night at his mom’s house. His doctor was afraid he might be dehydrated today, so she had the bio-mom take him to the ER. He didn’t get an IV and seems to be doing much better.

My instincts are awesome at times.

I’m feeling better…thank (insert deity here). It was nasty. I have little energy…but I have kept food in. Tony’s doing much better…but hasn’t pooped since his last nasty diaper yesterday morning. We’re waiting…
 

It’s a Jack weekend. We had bet Sarah to the house. She and Tony came in and we started discussing our evening plans. She had picked up stuff to make pizza…which is an awesome dinner project for her and Jack. He loves doing it…and it turns out tasting amazing.
 

My allergies have gone nuts…mostly due to the lack of medicine in the last few days. I also realize I’m out of some of it. So I decide to run to the store. Jack wants to stay and play Wii. Tony is in his exersaurcer…looks like a good time for a quick trip…
 

…until I pass the Binja.
 

“Um…damn…he’s…” The smell leaves me in a Neanderthalic, monosyllabic state.
 

“What”‘ Sarah asks? At this point I really have to stop myself from shrugging and walking out the door like I had no idea what lurked below.
 

I pick up Tony, “I think…”
 

“Oh yeah…”she says, seeing a wet spot growing on the back of his camouflage outfit. “Just put him in the sink.”
 

I paused somewhere in the kitchen…and it was there that we started fully understanding what we were dealing with. Some green liquid dripped out of or son’s one-sie, sown his leg and onto the floor.

“Um…damn…”I’m very eloquent in these situations.
 

“We’ll just cut him out.” Sarah states. She’s done this before.
 

I can’t really describe what came out of that child. I can state that the “6-13lbs” on the diaper box doesn’t mean it will hold that much…but it sure tried.
 

So, we threw away the outfit with the diaper…The baby was rinsed off like a dog who had rolled in its own feces…and my nausea returned with force…but he was a much happier baby for the rest of the evening.

I’m sick…have been since Tuesday Night. Sarah’s mom had the stomach flu so I stayed home with Tony. We went to the doctor to get his 4 moth shots and check up. He’s fabulous…and pissed about the shots. Tony and I went to get Jack in the afternoon, and had a good evening…until…

You know how I said Sarah’s mom had the stomach flu…she got it from Tony. He’s had nasty diapers for a few days, blowing through 3 outfits at school Monday. So I was the first at the Comer-Brown house to have the pleasure. As Jack and I played some Madden 07 on the Wii, I thought I would play the “fart game” with Jack…unfortunately, it wasn’t a fart.

I skipped to the bathroom, letting Sarah know…”I sharted!” as I passed.

It went downhill from there. Sarah took Jack home, and I ended up on the floor of the bathroom, pants around my ankle, begging for death. I usually don’t get stomach stuff…but this is the second time since Tony’s arrival.

Sarah was blessed with a lesser form of the demon flu. So she got the awesome task of being sick AND taking care of me and the baby.

The vomiting is gone, but I still have a fever and am never more than 20 paces from the toilet.

I do have to admit, while laying in a fetal position in the bed, I really listened to Sarah interact with Tony. She’s amazing. Her tonality is just beautiful. The noises she makes with him always sound like she’s excited to be playing with him. There is never a sound of frustration or irritation, even when he is screaming for more food or going 10 rounds with the sand man. She just has an amazing way with him. I’m very blessed…and have to go…

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Originally uploaded by SarahLena

My wife added this picture to here flickr…so I think it’s ok to share.
Congrats Steve and Ronda…I can’t wait to meet her. Get some rest and let us know what we can do.

Our friends Ronda and Steve are having their 2nd little angle angel today. Good luck.

I wish I could spell…