Being a baby is about being sick and growing stronger to survive in this dirty world. Desmond had his first trip to the ER. He'd vomited several times earlier in the week and then suffered cramps or stomach pains every 15 minutes or so for days on end. They gave him an IV, they drew his blood and gave him chest x-rays. I'm not sure who was more traumatized, Desmond or his parents. In the end, it turned out that Desmond had poo up to his neck. Two days and three enemas later, it appeared that his belly was a bit emptier.
He was better for a few days and then, having traveled for Christmas, threw everything out of whack and got socked with another cough and cold. Dr. Dad reassured me that it's all part of growing up. My bleary eyes and sore back are convinced that all this illness is actually an effort to kill me.
Sometime in my 20s I started thinking on day one of vacation about the last day of vacation and how quickly it would pass. I have to admit, though, that I'm ready for the schedule to kick in again. I'm ready for work and babysitter and school to start up and for time to resume per usual. In the midst of it all, Desmond is on a sleep strike and having been pushed to my limit , I've decided to let him cry in his crib. Bummer. Being a baby is not that easy after all.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)