Wednesday, August 31, 2011
This could have been an extension of the last entry. Hayes was in time-out yesterday (which never works, by the way) and he was surprisingly quiet. I don't trust that silence. I walked into his room to discover Desitin diaper rash creme smashed into the carpet, rubbed all over his clothes, in his hair, and even a creme mustache. I would have gotten a better picture, but I was too mad. And this stuff does NOT come out.
There are times as a parent when you walk into a situation with your child and there aren't really words to describe it, but just 'unsettling'. This was one such discovery. And of course, the star of this story is once again: Hayes.
Hayes likes to get up early. Well, early for two parents that aren't morning people. Bria, she's a little more up our alley. PRETTY lazy baby, that one. So sometimes when Hayes starts knocking on his bedroom door, calling for us, we just let him out like he's a dog, and then go back and lay down. He's pretty independent, so he just plays downstairs, helps himself to some cereal, cooks some eggs (joking). Well, I started to feel a bit uneasy about his silence this particular morning so I crawled out of bed and came downstairs. And there he was sitting silently at the kitchen table, with a large knife in his hand. And he was starring at me like he was about to do something crazy.
Walking up on this situation is probably how people feel when they come across a live bear in the woods. You know you need to act fast, but you don't want to make any fast movements. Hayes is about as unpredictably violent as a neighbors pitbull. He might comply right away, or he might just punch you in the face, or in this case, swing a knife at you. Yes, this is how scared I am of our 21 month old son. Luckily, thank the LORD, this was a pretty painless knife-from-toddlers-hand-removal. I didn't get a picture, as taking the time to do that might have caused a different outcome. But I did take a picture of the knife in MY hand. It's pretty big.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Hayes, you aren't the most cuddly boy I've been around. In face, I think I can count on my one hand how many times you've shown me affection. It's sad. Someday though, I think you'll change. I'm DYING to just hold you close without you pushing me away! But I'm also thankful for your independence;)
That being said, your dad and I were super excited when you woke up crying in the middle of the night. We weren't excited because you were crying, but because the only thing we could think to do with you (you didn't want milk, and you weren't having a nightmere) was put you in bed with us. You laid between us in the dark and we were super excited:) You have NEVER wanted to do this. Of course you brought your giant yellow duck which you call 'caw caw'. Which by the way, why is that the stuffed animal that you've become so attached to? You have about 15 regular sized animals on your bed, but you chose to carry around this giant duck that looks like you won it at the fair.
Anyways, as we are laying in bed with you, about to fall back asleep at about 1:30 am, you were still kind of whining. Then it happened. Sounded like a burp then a cough then I just felt warmth. And I smelled barf. Then you did it again...a few more times. This time all over dad and the bed. The moments that followed I wish had been on tape. Just your dad and I scrambling in the dark, trying to take cover from your spilling mouth, but nowhere to go. It was starting to scare you so I had to bring you in for the most uncomfortable cuddle of my life. Just holding you, smashing the vomit in between our bodies. It was a barf hug, I guess. Then we turned the lights on. and we all looked terrible. I put you in the bath, stripped the sheets and changed clothes.
Notice I said that I changed clothes...still not sure if your dad has and that was a few nights ago. Anyways, you still wouldn't go back to sleep, poor little guy. You were still whining and miserable. We took you to the basement and I just wanted to comfort you in front of a good Wiggles dvd. But you didn't want me of course. Just 'dada'. Part of me was just aching to hold you and rock you. And the other part was a little relieved that CJ had to stay up and cater to your every whine:) I'm sure my time will come, maybe when you're older, where I will have more than just one puke hug before you ask for dad:)