I've had some tough weekends. The one that comes to mind most recently was when my appendix burst. All the fun and shenanigans associated with that operation (not to mention the sales meeting I was helping run) were pretty painful and dreary.
But this weekend tops the bill.
Diagnosed with the flu on Friday, I was told in no uncertain terms by our pediatrician that passing it along to Emiko could be deadly.
That's an eye opener.
Now tie it in with the fact that Hopey had her Master's class all weekend long. Who in the hell is going to look after the kid? Gibson?
I've been sequestered in my room, subjected to the harangue of my father and brother (who rolled into town on Thursday night) and tortured by the sound of her cries. This has easily been the most painful place I've ever had to be: listening to her grief throughout each day and not being able to go to her side. Not being able to walk over and make her laugh. Finding tears of my own forming when I could hear how unhappy she was. I've worn a little surgical mask (courtesy of Cheryl) every time I've left my prison. I've washed my hands religiously (even before going to the bathroom). But I've kept my distance from her at all times.
Through all of this, I've been blessed with my father and brother's presence. Cheryl came over on Friday night to help them out since they had arrived with no expectation of being put on babysitting trial. Let's just say they passed with flying colors.
Dad has been a trooper throughout. He has fed her, changed diapers and held her through her squalling. He has been so endearing to her that, on Saturday night after Hopey got home, Emi held her arms out to him so he could pick her up! This has made me smile, cry and laugh all at the same time (though I try not to laugh because it makes me cough like I'm losing a lung).
Jeffy to has been a huge help. He's looked after Gibson, helped around the house and, here's the big one, even changed a diaper! He swore he was never, ever going to change a diaper...at least not until he had to change one for his own child. But Emi found a way to convince him!
A huge thanks to all for what they have done for my family this weekend. I really don't know what we would have done if they had so fortuitously been here in Colorado.
I've also learned something by this forced and necessary exile. I've learned a little something about fatherhood. Each time Emi cried, I wanted to rush to her side. But I learned that my father hasn't forgotten what it takes to comfort a teary child. He still has it. I realized that my standing over him wearing a mask could possibly just make him nervous as I would have tried to offer hints or suggestions while he held a frantic baby. I realized that he would figure it out on his own; she's not that different from any other child that came before or will come after.
And I can see how applicable this is for Emi in the days and years to come when she is learning something new that I think is just second nature. She will figure it out. I won't need to stand over her because she will eventually get it the same way the rest of us did. I remember how my father taught me that too.
My Dad is a hockey deity in central Maine. Everyone knew who he was when I was growing up. He played, he coached, he taught power skating and he ran the rink. When I played, he stood in the far corner of the stands and watched. Just watched. When he met me in the lobby, we'd walk to the car and I'd put my gear in the back before we began our 45 minute drive home. And he never once offered to speak first about the game. He always waited until I asked. He let me figure it out on my own and he knew that if I wanted his help, I would ask.
And so, while this has been the most difficult and painful weekend I have in memory, I plan to cherish it for all that I have learned and look back upon it happily for years to come.
But this weekend tops the bill.
Diagnosed with the flu on Friday, I was told in no uncertain terms by our pediatrician that passing it along to Emiko could be deadly.
That's an eye opener.
Now tie it in with the fact that Hopey had her Master's class all weekend long. Who in the hell is going to look after the kid? Gibson?
I've been sequestered in my room, subjected to the harangue of my father and brother (who rolled into town on Thursday night) and tortured by the sound of her cries. This has easily been the most painful place I've ever had to be: listening to her grief throughout each day and not being able to go to her side. Not being able to walk over and make her laugh. Finding tears of my own forming when I could hear how unhappy she was. I've worn a little surgical mask (courtesy of Cheryl) every time I've left my prison. I've washed my hands religiously (even before going to the bathroom). But I've kept my distance from her at all times.
Through all of this, I've been blessed with my father and brother's presence. Cheryl came over on Friday night to help them out since they had arrived with no expectation of being put on babysitting trial. Let's just say they passed with flying colors.
Dad has been a trooper throughout. He has fed her, changed diapers and held her through her squalling. He has been so endearing to her that, on Saturday night after Hopey got home, Emi held her arms out to him so he could pick her up! This has made me smile, cry and laugh all at the same time (though I try not to laugh because it makes me cough like I'm losing a lung).
Jeffy to has been a huge help. He's looked after Gibson, helped around the house and, here's the big one, even changed a diaper! He swore he was never, ever going to change a diaper...at least not until he had to change one for his own child. But Emi found a way to convince him!
A huge thanks to all for what they have done for my family this weekend. I really don't know what we would have done if they had so fortuitously been here in Colorado.
I've also learned something by this forced and necessary exile. I've learned a little something about fatherhood. Each time Emi cried, I wanted to rush to her side. But I learned that my father hasn't forgotten what it takes to comfort a teary child. He still has it. I realized that my standing over him wearing a mask could possibly just make him nervous as I would have tried to offer hints or suggestions while he held a frantic baby. I realized that he would figure it out on his own; she's not that different from any other child that came before or will come after.
And I can see how applicable this is for Emi in the days and years to come when she is learning something new that I think is just second nature. She will figure it out. I won't need to stand over her because she will eventually get it the same way the rest of us did. I remember how my father taught me that too.
My Dad is a hockey deity in central Maine. Everyone knew who he was when I was growing up. He played, he coached, he taught power skating and he ran the rink. When I played, he stood in the far corner of the stands and watched. Just watched. When he met me in the lobby, we'd walk to the car and I'd put my gear in the back before we began our 45 minute drive home. And he never once offered to speak first about the game. He always waited until I asked. He let me figure it out on my own and he knew that if I wanted his help, I would ask.
And so, while this has been the most difficult and painful weekend I have in memory, I plan to cherish it for all that I have learned and look back upon it happily for years to come.
2 comments:
I like this post. A lot. xoxo
Since you and I know that Dad would never read this, it will get printed out and left on the dining room table for him to read when he comes back home.
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