| Sunday, November 04, 2007 |
| Can(e)dy |
This was what happened three nights ago.
She went to bed like she would on any other day, at 8.30pm. It was around 9pm when she started crying. It was painful to hear her cry like she did, partly because she seldom would cry before her sleep, but mostly because she was so damn loud. Like other times, I would wait fifteen minutes before attending to her.
As things would go they way they usually did, just as I got up to attend her, I heard her getting sick in bed. With hasten steps, I found myself face to face with one frantic kid. The events that followed were blurry now, but I do remember dealing with a screaming kid, clearing soiled beddings, changing fresh clothes for her and myself, to be the receiving end of another enormous heave.
The kid brought out her stomach contents three times that night and I watched them changed from partially digested milk, to water, to what looked like gastric juices. But nothing topped her screaming lungs, which sent out wails after wails.
We coaxed and patted, rocked and sang, threaten and smacked, the kid was inconsolable. For that hour, we were hugely defeated by that small person who became the epicenter of our universe. That night, she tested the grounds, expanded her borders significantly and left us confused and powerless in the struggle.
The next night, still shuddering over the defeat, I met Andre and BC for drinks. The two guys who have four kids between them welcomed me to the next level of parenthood. My so called buddies bidded me luck on the quest for a “fluid formula” – the one "fix-it method" for all forms of misbehaving.
Very funny guys, it is probably one of the best oxymoron I heard for awhile. Wil and I voted to get a cane.Labels: discipline, parenting |
posted by Chris @ 7:22 am  |
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