I Love Him Dearly, But I Need a Vacation
I have been put under the Baby Spell. Help!
I love my little guy. But at one years old, knowing how to tie me to a leash, is not something I can deal with.
I have this image of a frail old lady walking her dog. The dog makes a dash for a beetle that he spotted from across the lot. The poor little woman’s feet are lifted off the ground and she is dragged on the pavement until he comes to a stop. I am, most definitely, that little old lady who is walked by her dog.
I can’t imagine life without those freezing, tiny hands touching my thighs when I finally get a chance to pee, in what I thought would be private. He finds me everywhere. Let me go to the bathroom in peace, for heaven’s sake.
He won’t stay in his crib, no matter how much I beg. Somehow, in the middle of the night, he uses his baby powers to put me in a trance. I don’t even remember it in the morning, but he manages to convince me to carry him out of his crib. I would never actually choose to put him in my bed. He is the biggest bed hogger, after me of course, and so we clash drastically. It turns into a bed wrestling match.
“And they all rolled over, and one fell out” is the lullaby I sing, hoping he gets that ‘one‘ is referring to him.
Uh oh, he probably thinks he is the one left in the bed after everyone else is pushed off.
When I finally get to eat, after hours of grumbling belly starvation, he pays me a visit. It doesn’t matter that I spent the last two hours feeding him, he whimpers at my feet with hungry eyes. How does that little devil get me to hand over my few meager bites. Under normal circumstances, I practically bark at anyone who nears my plate. Even my husband knows not to snatch anything from my share of food, unless he wants his hand bitten off. No joke.
He throws around the veggies
Plays with them like rubber balls
He sweetly says “ahboom“
When folded laundry, he knocks and falls
He says only several words
And Mommy is a shout or whine
He motions to and for everything
And forces me to obey every sign
He throws a tantrum like he’s five
He screams when things don’t go his way
He climbs on me a whole night long
Pain from back aches start my day
He kicked my nose so many times
I thought it would be broken for sure
He has thrown his feet into my belly
I felt like I would digest never more
He jumps at little, tiny sounds
Hides behind me when machines makes noise
Peaks his little head around, so scared
What has become of all my boys
He chucks his food and fakes his cries
And whimpers as a joke
He’ll press any button a hundred times
Act clueless if it broke
But he has laughed and brought me joy
He has smiled and brought me to tears
He has shown me real and endless love
He has comforted many of my fears
He is amazing and he’s perfect
There is not much that he does lack
I am sure nothing will change when I go away
And if I decide to ever come back
Don’t ask me how that turned into a poem. The words just stopped flowing and got choppy and poem-like. Sometimes I write in the format that the words had been thought of in my head.
He makes me hold him all day and night (so it seems) and I am dreadfully tired. I can not be responsible for the weird imbalances that he causes to occur inside my brain.
Most of the time, he makes my words disappear altogether, and I am lucky if he leaves me with any remnants. Even if I have any words left, they come out in such a jumble. By the time I am done, I don’t even know what I am talking about.
Someone save me please. The little critters need some sitters. SEE IT WON”T STOP!!!