Sympathy Pain

No parent should ever bury a child. I watched my grandmother grieve the passing of my uncle, Anthony Dewayne, her youngest. He was 40. It was devestating to witness. It was against the normal flow of nature. My ex grandfather in law saw his only 2 children pass within just a few years of each other. It was just not right. As the child, we grow up knowing that we will survive our parents. As the parent, we expect to watch our child grow and begin their own family. Losing a child is never something you expect.

Now, these are all parents who lost their children in adulthood. When a parent looses a young child…I have no words. It feels like god has stopped watching. Why would he give such a precious gift to a family, just to rip their heart away. I digress.

I read today about little Maddie. She was taken much too soon. My heart absolutly bleeds for the family. Please send your thoughts and prayers to her parents and family.

I love when he brings you a book, then turns around so you can pick him up and set him in your lap. It’s extremely sweet. And it’s almost the only time he snuggled anymore. What makes it extra nice is when he take a big ole dump while your reading to him. Nothing is better than being gased while reading “The Foot Book” by Dr. Seuss.

Everytime I take jack home after dark I see them. 2 medium sized trees growing outside his bedroom window. His mom and I bought the house new in 2002. It was new construction so all the trees were gone. We decided to plant some ever greens around the house. The only spot I wanted them was outside his window. I noticed that any car that came around the corner in front of the house shined lights into his room. I thought a couple trees would help. I planted 9 trees around that house. 7 of them died within the month. 2 survived. They now are well over 8 foot tall and block out oncoming headlights quite well. They also jeep the evening sun from heating up his room as much. They were the only 2 that didn’t die. They had a purpose.

I wish I could be there all the time. I wish I could protect him from the world day and night. I can’t. No parent really can. All we can do is plant those little evergreens that grow up to block out headlights. We can only hope that whatever saplings we plant within our children grow to serve them well. Because some day, we won’t live in that house anymore. Someday we will not be there to close the blinds to keep the light out, but, hopefully, our 2 little evergreens will be.

My wife, the avid blogger, beat me to the punch on this post, but It is so good of a story, I need to tell my half.

I pick up Jack around 12:30 on New Years day. We are heading home and stop to get gas. My phone rings.

“Um…Where is the carpet cleaning stuff” she ask. It sounds like shes alittle paniced and has me on speaker phone. I can hear Tony in the background, but he sounds fine.

“I’m not sure where I used it last. Why”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll puke again.”

“Oh…ok. Well we’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”

“All right.” And she hangs up.

I relay the story to Jack. We begin speculating on what may be going on at the house. Jack thinks it’s the dogs. I point out that the dogs don’t get onto the carpet.

“Maybe Tony puked.” Jack adds.

“I bet it has something to do with the cat.” Is my guess.

Well…we get home and sheepishly enter the house. Tony is asleep in his room. Sarah is sitting on the bed in our bed room.

“Tony was in Jack’s room and food some cat poop. By the time I got to him he had it all over is face and hands and in his mouth.”

What do you say to that? We laughed… because we weren’t there. Here’s her post. I can’t imagine what I would have done, but it would have included the emptying out the contents of my stomach.

Of course, “poop eating” was ate the base of all our jokes. I think it was too soon for Sarah to appreciate it until last night. We are laying in bed and I begin the conversation:

“So if black eyed peas on New Years is good luck and eating Greens and cabbage is for money…what shit eating?”

She thinks. I was worried I had once again crossed the line, but she replied, “I guess it’s getting all the bad stuff out of the way for the year. I mean if you eat shit, it can only get better after that.”

Oh, and if you’re worried about Toxoplasmosis…here’s my info on that.

Jack has started wearing glasses. He’s farsighted…which is the opposite of his mom and I. I’ve worn glasses for 30 years, contacts since I was 18. One day I plan on getting my eyes lasered, if I can. I just remember hating wearing glasses when I was his age. So it’s been hard for me to have him in glasses.

I guess I’m projecting my bad experience onto him. I try not to, but I know I do. Every time I see him I remember my glasses getting jerked off my face by some wise ass…who found himself with his head it the toilet. It’s the only fight I’ve ever been in. I just don’t want him to get into a fight or being picked on about his glasses.

I did have a surreal moment yesterday. I took Jack to the eye doctor. Something I’ve done for ever…and to set in the seat (figuratively) that my father sat in, and hear his responses to “Better at one or two…two or one…a or b…b or a…or about the same?” was odd. I do think it helped me though. He was really paying attention and truly answering the questions. I don’t know why I thought he would hem and haw and just answer “I don’t know.” But he did great.

I think we as parents do the projecting thing more than we should. His mom’s hatred of school…my dislike of glasses…it goes on. Prejudices, religious biases. It all comes down to the way we present our beliefs and feelings. Just something to be aware of…even if it’s just about eye wear.

I’m a huge believer in kissing. I think every woman deserves to be reminded that she is a woman from time to time with a heartfelt kiss. Now one of those “see ya later, gotta go” kisses, or even the “get ready, sex is emanate” kisses, but a real “this is because you are the most amazing woman I know” kiss.

In this crazy world, we sometimes forget to show the woman we love exactly how much she means. We forget that a kiss, one that gives butterflies, is one of the best ways to show it. I know men who think kissing is something you do as a salutation, but a real kiss can happen at any time. The best are the ones that are spontaneous and unexpected. Getting into a car to go to the super market. At the supermarket. Sitting around watching football…or “so you think you can dance”. Laying in bed, talking. No occasion. No grand exit. And no expectations. The best kisses are those without strings attached. Now, I’m not saying that it may not lead to other things, but the best ones don’t start with a “plan”.

I can’t tell you how to kiss…everyone is different and wants to be kissed in special ways. I’m not a “I’m going to eat your face” kisser. Sometimes I do have that “devour her” urge, but that’s different. I can’t stand the “eyes wide open” kiss either…it’s like kissing a fish. My wife and I think the other is the world’s best kisser…which works out well. So, whatever way your lover likes to be kissed, discover it. Use it. Experiment. But don’t forget the power it can wield. I guarantee, if you do it right, you’ll feel the butterflies too. It will also do the kids good to see that you guys still get mushy, but don’t get too crazy in front of the kiddies.

6 to 9 Months

What Your Baby Likes: Seeing people he recognizes, interactive games, cause-and-effect toys.

What’s Behind the Smiles: By 9 months, he’s beginning to understand object permanence, the concept that an object or person still exists even after leaving his line of sight. He’ll show you he understands this when he cranes his neck over his stationary activity center or high chair after a toy falls to the floor. He’ll like it all the better if you pick up the toy for him to toss over the side again.

His memory is growing now, too, so what left him laughing yesterday — hearing his sister sing a silly tune — might make him chuckle days later when she does it again, says Michelle Gross, a developmental psychologist who directs a Centers for Disease Control-contracted parenting research project for kids from birth to age 5.

What You Can Do: Initiate a game of peekaboo. He’ll also like having you help him hide a stuffed animal or toy under a blanket and asking, “Where’d it go?”

Play a modified game of airplane with your baby by lying on your back, knees bent, and placing him on your shins. Make whooshing sounds as you gently “fly” him back and forth and side to side.

Toys that allow your baby to push a button and watch something pop up are sure to induce a smile. I remember adding voices to a pop-up toy featuring a farmer, cows, horses, and sheep. Emma would bust out laughing at my deep “Farmer Fred” voice.

Making dinner and need a distraction for your baby? Offer up a couple of pots and pans along with a wooden spoon. He’ll like knowing he’s capable of creating such a racket. Speak to him as you both “cook”: “Mommy is making mashed potatoes for dinner tonight. What are you making? Looks like green beans! Stir ‘em up!”

It’s the general consciences about Tony. He’s an extremely laid back baby. I know as result of writing this that he is changing into a demon child. However, that’s what we get all the time.

Consequently, I think all other children his age are on crack.

This weekend, I had to pick up a dryer from Best Buy. I had lined up a truck and timed my day, but hadn’t really thought about the fact that I was the lone parent and the car seat couldn’t go in a truck. So Saturday morning I had to do some begging of friends to watch Tony while I made this happen. Sandra, the grandmother of Maddie, agreed to watch him. So I slapped some food in him and off we went.

Now, Maddie is about a month and a half older than Tony, so she is more advanced in motor skills and such, but I wasn’t prepared for the difference in personality. It was like night and day. Maddie was almost vibrating, looking around, reaching for mom, trying to see Tony. Tony…could care less. Just laid back and watched.

“It was hard to tell when he was unhappy.” Sandra said.”He always seems ok.”

I thought maybe this is just the difference between these two, but then we went to dinner with the Ronda and Steve.

Tony was playing, setting up, with a toy. He lost his balance and fell over…and laughed.

“Our’s would never have laughed. They would have cried.” Steve said with the sound of disbelief.

Then this morning, his teacher (is that the right term for daycare?) went on and on about how good and happy of a baby he is.

“The only time he is fussy is when he’s hungry, dirty, or tired. And we can do something about that, but even then, he’ll try to smile the whole time he is whimpering. The other babies will wail for no reason, and he just takes it in stride”

I think he has adopted his parents outward, laid back, attitude. Our house is usually very quiet and non manic. I think that makes a huge difference with a baby…or he’s just waiting to let loose now that I’ve publicized his mellowness.

I saw this study today…and sadly, it doesn’t surpise me.

ATLANTA, Georgia (AP) — About 1 in 50 U.S. infants are victims of nonfatal child abuse or neglect in a year, according to the first national study of the problem in that age group.

(more…)

You try not to compare your child to other children…unless they are superior…but you do. When everyone else’s babies are conjugating French verbs and yours can’t find his feet, you start to get paranoid that he’s a tard. You start blaming yourself. Maybe you’re not doing something right.

Maybe you’re doing the wrong activity. But that can’t be. You’re always right. Someone else is to blame.

So maybe it’s…the other parent. What in the hell has she been doing…or not doing…in the 15 minutes you’re not there to witness it. No, that’s crazy…or is it. He is clearly behind all the other infants.

Well, maybe it’s whoever is watching him during the day. Yes…”The Grandmother” she must be doing absolutely nothing but leaving him on the bathroom floor. No that’s crazy…we’d see the tile marks.

Then it happens. The one moment that says, “Hey, your kid’s not a vegetable.” He rolled over. Twice in one day. How awesome is that. We knew we needed to do more belly time. But he hated it. Was crazy grumpy attempting it. Jack and I were playing Wii. Bowling, I believe. I was a pimp and he was Elvis. It’s a great bowling game.

“He did it.” I hear from the nursery over the baby intercom, “Bryan, He rolled over.

So Jack and I run in and celebrate…then back to the Wii. We couldn’t get too crazy. He then did it again later, just so I could witness it. It was awesome.

He’s a genius. I can’t wait to find other babies his age that aren’t as advance and judge their parents.

I’ve written about my realtionship with my ex- before. It may not be the stereotypical divorced with child relationship, and I think we are lucky that way. However, this sometimes leads to strangeness, especially where her family is involved.

Little expositional info. Her family is large and extremely close. It took me about 2 years to get down how belonged to whom and where the family tree forked and such. I come from a small to medium sized family, and we are just close enough. Nobody in our back yard to check out our dirty laundry. We see each other on major holidays and send cards. The ex family mostly live in the same zip code and their are easily 25 family members in a 20 mile radius. I never have more than 4 in a 100 mile radius. And they like each other an are extremely loyal.
Sounds great, right. Well it is…if your apart of it. So, one of few things I hated about the divorce was loosing her family. Lawyer, Dentist, Chiropractor, pediatric nurse, construction contractor…all in my cell phone.
So now, years after the divorce, our story begins.

Saturday, during a peaceful walk with my family, after working on Jack’s “Valentine Box”, the phone rings. It’s Jack’s bio-mom’s mom…Nanny. I think some thing’s wrong. Maybe the bio-mom has been attacked by a Hydra…or something. No, she just wanted to check on Tony and Sarah and, after prompting, said hey to Jack. felt strange, but Nanny is an extremely nice person, so I shrugged it off. She has even offered to watch Tony…again, nice but kinda odd.

Then, last night we took jack home. Bio-mom was at a relative’s house. The patriarchal head of the clan. So we stop to drop him off, and Nanny descends on the car, insisting we bring Tony in for the family to see. We are way off in the docks…I had a feeling we were about to become some domestic violence statistic. However, the ex- family was extremely sweet and loved that Tony bot. They also wanted to take photos of the binja…again, the baby not related to them. He is Jack’s brother, but there is no blood relationship back to this family tree, so it was just odd.

Well, we made it out…but the pucker factor was high. I admit I am blessed to have the kind of relationship I do with my ex-, but it really was odd to stand on the orange shag carpet I had grown accustom to over the 9 years of marriage, and hear my ex- say, “this is Sarah, Bryan’s wife and their baby, Tony.” Very twilight zone.

“You should be a pro, you’ve already got one.”

“This is old hat for you.”

I was holding Tony last night thinking just how different this is from my first child, Jack. Yes they both peed, pooped, and cried, as Jack says, but the difference in everything else is pretty staggering.

They bath are pretty laid back…knock on wood, and happy, but the likeness ends there. Even though I was home far more with Jack, I connected with Tony earlier. It may have to do with having no expectations with Tony. With Jack, the marriage was strained. We had wanted a child, and tried before him, but I think I was hoping he’d also help patch up the unfix-able. So when the ex-would come home from work and crawl into her bed, leaving me with Jack, I resented it…and him. I loved him…no doubt…but I didn’t bond with him and just fall in love until later. Tony was much easier. Again, I had no expectations. We are pretty sickeningly in love, so tony is like a bonus.

I remember being tense and easily rattled with Jack. Yes, I was inexperienced, but I think I was also a darker person. I don’t feel that with Tony. Even when he’s screaming in my face, I have this calmness that helps me through. It also helps him that I’m not worked up. There were times when Jack could make me need to walk away. Now Tony’s young…so maybe…

I guess I’m writing this to say; make sure your house is in order before having a child. As a man and father, you are already at a disadvantage. We aren’t wired to be parents. We don’t have hormones and chemicals that kick in to help the bond. So don’t think a child will be easy, especially if you are not happy with your life. Don’t bring a child into that. As a good friend says…”get your own shit right.”

Now, here’s the Catch 22… I would do it all again if Jack is the result. I would go through the unhappiness and disappointment all over again to have my son. He is amazing…and owns my heart. He’s me…at that age…crazy and all. His mother and I were not good for each other…but we made a pretty awesome kid.

Bryan’s parting thoughts…

Children are not a band aid for relationships. They are not a way to get more back from the man. They are not a way to get out of work. They are a blessing and a challenge. Be as ready for that as you can be. But even if things are 100% perfect, you can still bond and love your child. It just doesn’t come as easily…but it still can be awesome.

When I was growing up, there was a ta bu about talking real politics with my parents. I think I may have ask them who they were voting for once, and the reply was “You shouldn’t talk about that. It’s a private decision.” We would talk about it in high school, amongst my peers, but never directly to an adult.

So last week, my son ask me who I was voting for…

It seems that that stigma stayed with me.

“I don’t know.” I replied.

“My mom and step dad are voting for …”AHHH!!! I wanted to cover my ears and start humming loudly. I shouldn’t be hearing this from a child. It was a weird, almost physical, reaction.

My wife and I talked about that yesterday. She had the same reaction to his asking her. It was just something not talked about between children and adults.

Then I saw this article. I think it’s kinda creepy to have your child wear a sandwich board at 10 years old for any candidate…other than class president.

Is it a southern thing? I don’t fully understand it, because I want my kids to grow up understanding this democratic system we live in, so why shouldn’t we talk. It just feels…dirty. Next time, I’m just going to by him a Hustler and send him to his room.

My ex- and I get along pretty well. We share in Jack’s needs and wants. There are times we butt heads, usually falling into old patterns that caused the divorce to begin with. At other times, we are a united front. Here’s examples of both…within a 24 hour time period.

I dropped Jack of Sunday night, after a very full weekend of sports and family. He had no homework, which was awesome. However, not 3 minutes after leaving her house, she called me.

“Why didn’t he read his book? I sent it in his book bag.”

So I tried to explain that he had read other things, and she began to dove into my not being responsible for his education needs, and I…and so on. It was really kinda ridiculous. Not what the argument was about, but that the argument happened at all. It should have taken 5 minutes with the agreement being made that I would make sure reading books are considered homework and her agreeing that she needs to be clear about things I may not know since she is the primary care giver. But, it was 30 minutes of accusing and pseudo name calling. I guess 9 years of marriage will leave a few sore spots that take just a small verbal bomb to set off.

So the next night, After I had called to tell him goodnight, I was on the couch, feeding Tony, and the phone rings…as it does when your hands are full. It was the ex-
“Gotta second?”

I figured she was either still steamed about the book or going to apologize for the conversation.

“I’m feeding Tony, but yeah.”

“I’m going to talk to Jack’s principle and insist that he be taken out of this teacher’s class.” Hmmm, thinks I.

“What happened?”

“Well, he was asked to complete a math question on the board and got it wrong. It was the only one he got wrong out of the ten on his paper. The teacher, in front of the class, said ‘He didn’t belong in second grade’.”

My jaw hit the floor. Who says that? What kind of person says that to a 7 year old. He was crushed. He spent all last night saying he wasn’t smart enough to be in second grade. Now, he has an ‘A’ in math, and most of his grades are ‘B’s or high ‘C’s.

“Do you want me to come up?” I ask.

“Well, I don’t know if I can get a definitive time for a meeting, and you are almost an hour away. If I can, I’ll let you know and you can come up.”

“Well, do what you have to do. That’s not ok to say. If the principle won’t do anything, let me know and we can take other actions.” I was pissed, and so was she. We had a common enemy. We’ll see what happens

I guess that’s the way it will be. Their will be times when we go toe to toe over things, mainly because of our past, and others where we will be willing to go shoulder to shoulder.

So…it happened. Not 24 hours after posting how my nights go with Tony. I got up at 2 when I heard that little “I’m hungry” whimper. I get him out of his crib. Throw his bottle into hot water. Sarah prepares a bottle every night…which helps a bunch. I change his diaper, grab a drink for myself, hit the head, grab him and his bottle, and settle in on the couch. Turned on the tube, started flipping through info commercials and bad late night TV.

After about half a bottle, I burped him…and he spit up. “That’s weird, he usually doesn’t do that.” So I clean him up and get another burp cloth and settle back in.

After the bottle was empty, I burped him again, and instead of the sleepy baby or happy baby I’m use to, he has a look of “oh shit” in his eyes. I burp him some more, and he spits up more. “This isn’t fun”.

So about 3 hours later, after rocking and burping and walking and burping and snuggling and burping we collapse on the couch. No good bonding time, just a helluva fussy baby. After a quite 15 minutes, I get up and get him to bed and pass out beside Sarah.

He woke Sarah up about 30 minutes later to eat. it was a long night for the binja.