Feeding the babes as I type this. Oh, I've got the hands-free thing down cold. That is until burp time. (Then I'm about three hands short.) It's a peaceful moment--both making little cooing/gurgling sounds as they drink from their little bottles. This is one of the sweet & happy parenting times. Frankly, it's a complete and total relief.
It's been particularly stressful lately. I had a moment yesterday in which I felt 100% incapable as a parent. It was a wail-fest, folks. Absolute inconsolability for two hours straight. Perhaps I'm spoiled, but this was the first time I've been faced with such...intensity from them. Passers-by might have thought the babes were being dismembered. I'm glad it was cold out--there were no passers-by. It's moments like those that I feel as if we've made a mistake bringing children into the world. Or, at the very least, wishing that I had majored in child-development.
I knew this would be hard. I never knew it could be Olympic, triganomic, tax code, soufflé, encyclopedia-sales hard. Despite the frequent social proclaimations to the contrary, Super Dad I am not. I am just Dad. Doing my best, failing more often than I'd like, and just trying to remain sane enough to give my children the best lives possible--with the tools at my disposal.
No comments:
Post a Comment