Trucking. Got my Chips Cashed In

Oh my word. Parenthood is kicking my ass.

But today I got to say to someone whose baby is 20 days younger than Trombone, It will pass. In three weeks, he’ll be back to normal. That felt good.

We have the crawling (still a sort of left knee crawl with a right knee drag, like he got shot in the field and is trying to get to his foxhole). We have the pulling up (mostly on objects not strong enough to brace him. Like his stroller or the plastic play-table. Yay for carpeted floors!) There’s the picking things out of the carpet and eating them. Like the small piece of jagged plastic he finally spit out this afternoon. (Boo for carpeted floors!) I mean, COME ON. I vacuumed yesterday! Where does the small piece of jagged plastic come from?

(It comes from The Terrible Mother mail-order store. I didn’t sign for it but it was delivered all the same.)

Oh, and we have the whining. I know, I have spoken of the whining before. But this is truly terrible. It’s truly terrible because he has figured out that it drives us batshit crazy and thus, it gets The Job Done. It is no-holds-barred whining. It is “hey I think I’ll try this right now and see if I get more stuff!” whining. It is “but it worked 10 minutes ago! LOUDER!” whining.

Help me.

Besides the whining, there are the full body contortions and screaming we must endure whenever a diaper needs refreshing. THIS is why people switch from cloth to disposable diapers. I could change a disposable in the time it takes him to flip over onto his front and crawl away. I can change a disposable WHILE he is crawling away. But a prefold with a snappi (or god help me, pins) and a cover? Is a several minutes of flipping/flipping/yelling/flipping job. Until I put pants on my head and clench a rattle in my teeth and hum “Summertime.” Then he stays still because omigod she is totally certifiable, what do I do? stay still. very very still.

The bright side starts here

There is also, though, the “heh!” of accomplishment. The grin of delight. The singing along when I sing. The awesome song I made up in the shower to the tune of Tarzan Boy, the chorus of which I will share with you:

Oh-oh-ohohohohoh – watch your step!
Oh-oh-ohohohohoh – watch your step!
Oh-oh-ohohohohoh – watch your step!
Oh-oh-ohohohohoh – watch your step!

Elephants
poop in the jungle poop in the jungle
elephants
don’t care
elephants
poop in the jungle poop in the jungle
ev
ery
where!

There is his obsession with his books. Every morning I put him on the living room floor and he injured-soldier-crawls over to the bookshelf and grabs his favourite book, a tome titled “Zoo’s Who” which features a large jungle animal on each page, each with its own strokeable patch of fur. He has figured out how to turn pages. He turns to page 1, the elephant (poops in the jungle!) and then laughs and looks at me. I say, “Yes! Your elephant!” (poops in the jungle) and he grins again and flips to the iguana. Its strokeable patch is shiny and scaly. He loves it best. I can see his point.

There is the person he is becoming. A funny person who sometimes purses his lips at me when I make faces, as if to say, Nice try. A sensitive person who sometimes gets frightened when he hears a noise that sounds like another baby or an animal crying. An observer who stares people down at the grocery store until they resort to asking me, “Is he happy or sad?” and when I answer, “Watchful,” then he smiles.

And there is the person I am becoming. A person who breathes through the rage the way she breathed through labour and then, when it passes, feels such similarly exquisite relief. A braver person who has placed her fears into a tidy pile and later, when she gets to it, she might examine them. Until then, I have shit to do and there is seriously no point in being apprehensive about any of it.

(I am also becoming a person who is starting to realize that she needs two cups of coffee a day because the two-cup days are just that much better. But that’s just a practical matter.)

This afternoon he woke from a nap and the back of his head was damp with sweat and a sweet curl rose just behind his ear. I bent and inhaled his neck and he stayed still enough to let me. We sat for a few minutes, just breathing. Then he twisted, impatient in my lap so I put him on the floor and watched him go.