A Sinking Feeling
When I started typing this on Sunday night Mo and I were sacked out on the horizontal seating devices. The cats were treating us with a stereovisual cleansing of the anii. We were bone tired but fortunately for us the kids were asleep. That changed mid-sentence and here I am, Tuesday morning, trying to remember the awesome post I was going to type out... the kind of post that changes peoples lives, for the better!
But I have no short-term memory, so instead I comment briefly on the sinking feeling I sometimes experience while attempting to raise, and not completely maladapt, our children. The feeling I have that my best is insufficient, that the kids will end up having as limited an emotional palette as I, or the same tendency to fart loudly during quiet moments...
I am not alone in my concerns, Mo has her own, although she has not commented on any flautus-related worries. In brief, we feel overmatched. We worry sometimes we are unfit parents.
This is not to say we shall self-report to the ministry. Far from it. Our children are clean, clothed, and fed (inasmuch as one can 'feed' the 2 year old) and most importantly, loved completely. It is to say the effort is taking a toll. E is, um, feisty. Like my literary heroine (she who needs to be firm, on occasion), she is good at wearing people out. A is a happy little guy. He is really coming to life, reaching that wonderful age where he becomes a little simpler to deal with on account of his ability to communicate using the large eyebrow which is my gift to him. But he is heavy. He now clocks in at 21+ pounds which is around 70% of E's current weight. He is clearly made of a material with a high AMU.
So, to fitness. My buffed biceps have given away to lax wrist ligaments. Mo is battling a nasty bout of mastitis (symptoms: inflammation and discloration of the breast tissue, intense pain, forthrightness) and is taking large orange pills to fight the infection. I have toe-itis (I asked my doctor to simplify his diagnosis) which looks like this and I am taking large orange pills to fight the infection.
In the broad scheme of things these conditions are not serious. They too shall pass. In fact, now that I've typed about them, I feel much better. Thank you internet, for healing my foot!
P-man out.
But I have no short-term memory, so instead I comment briefly on the sinking feeling I sometimes experience while attempting to raise, and not completely maladapt, our children. The feeling I have that my best is insufficient, that the kids will end up having as limited an emotional palette as I, or the same tendency to fart loudly during quiet moments...
I am not alone in my concerns, Mo has her own, although she has not commented on any flautus-related worries. In brief, we feel overmatched. We worry sometimes we are unfit parents.
This is not to say we shall self-report to the ministry. Far from it. Our children are clean, clothed, and fed (inasmuch as one can 'feed' the 2 year old) and most importantly, loved completely. It is to say the effort is taking a toll. E is, um, feisty. Like my literary heroine (she who needs to be firm, on occasion), she is good at wearing people out. A is a happy little guy. He is really coming to life, reaching that wonderful age where he becomes a little simpler to deal with on account of his ability to communicate using the large eyebrow which is my gift to him. But he is heavy. He now clocks in at 21+ pounds which is around 70% of E's current weight. He is clearly made of a material with a high AMU.
So, to fitness. My buffed biceps have given away to lax wrist ligaments. Mo is battling a nasty bout of mastitis (symptoms: inflammation and discloration of the breast tissue, intense pain, forthrightness) and is taking large orange pills to fight the infection. I have toe-itis (I asked my doctor to simplify his diagnosis) which looks like this and I am taking large orange pills to fight the infection.
In the broad scheme of things these conditions are not serious. They too shall pass. In fact, now that I've typed about them, I feel much better. Thank you internet, for healing my foot!
P-man out.
posted by mo-wo at 10:21 p.m.
2 Comments:
Two smart parents = two extra smart kids.
Seriously...come hang out with my two and your pair will look like the von Trapps in comparison.
Our two are aging us.....we are withering in the onslaught on non stop talk.
We are afraid to go out in public with our daughter because she SHRIEKS really loudly and runs away..pinches and hits us and yells!
She is an angel.
And both WHIP smart. They have us beat.
Well, use of the word "anii" surely qualifies you for some sort of parenting award, no? If not, it should. :-)
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