April showers bring May flowers...we hope

Sava,

Each morning you climb into bed with with us, snuggle under the covers and begin lightly kicking our backs and whispering your needs "Mommy, I need milk. Daddy, I need water and eggs and cheese and crackers. Mommy, I want watch movie. Daddy, wake up. Wake up, Daddy. Wake up. I need to pee. I want cheese and balloons...."

While there has grown a backlog of all the wonderful times, the funny quotes and situations, what seems to keep rising to the top is your utter intensity. I love you more than I've loved anything or anyone, but there are times when I want to throw you down a flight of stairs.

Today, for instance. If I were describing the simple skeleton of the day it would look something like this: breakfast, the gym, home for lunch, a nap, a housewarming party, a visit to the store, a visit to a cafe, home. Seems kind enough. But you just totally and completely worked me today. I mean, you demolished my spirits, you crushed my nerves, trampled over the carcass of my emotions and stood victorious on my whithered remains.

I don't know how to explain exactly what it is you do, but I need to begin watching the progress. For starters you never stop. There is never any downtime. You want this, you want that. You pick things up and deposit them elsewhere. You throw your stuffed animals, fight with Nico for her stuffed animal. You demand foods, cry when you receive them. You demand water once everyone is sitting, then spill it immediately. You put your hands in your food and throw it on the floor. While we're cleaning it up you demand milk. We deny the request and you throw a tantrum, during which you knock over your food. I clean it up and you get hungry again, but this time you want daddy's or mommy's food and you won't take no for an answer. You want vitamins. We give them to you, but now you want more. Etc. etc. We finally clean you up to leave the house and now you're playing hide and go seek and running when we get close with shoes, pants, your jacket. At the gym you're an angel. We get to the housewarming party and it's all about grabbing hand fulls of the common food. Chewing it, spitting it back. Climbing the stairs. Peeing on the floor. Pouring juice on your dress. Screaming and crying and kicking me until I have to remove you. At the store you run and won't come back. You try eating clothing. You cry and scream NOOOOOOO at me when I try to pick you up. I take you to a restaurant to eat, but you insist on climbing on the table and holding my keys, which you lose. You don't want to stay, you don't want to leave. I eventually carry you out and decide to pick up something to eat and go home to watch a movie with you to see if that helps. But while picking up dinner you're laughing hysterically and insist on pulling everything off the counter. You scream NO to me when I ask if you want a hug or if there is anything I can get you. Then you jump into the air and begin to run, tripping and falling onto the floor. Then it's a rage of tears and screaming and crying. Then you're demanding unreasonable things, asking to go home. But at home you're nothing short of an absolute tyrant. On and on and on.

Later I find myself drinking a lot of beers and reading websites about emotionally intense children. The thing is, I know you will change, you always do, but there is nothing I can do to keep myself from wanting to cry from the exhaustion or simply stop doing so much to please you. I feel that might be the answer, to simply not pay so much attention to you and your whims, but I don't know how to cut myself off from you because I love you so much.

It's a balancing act, and one I'm sure most parents have been through. But it's all new to me and while I've wanted to post here so many of the good and the funny things you do so that later you can reflect on them, I guess this was more important right now.

It's 10:30 and you finally went to sleep. I had to take all of the furniture out of your room and put it all into the hallway. The only things I left were your bed, your nightstand and a small chair. When I checked on you a few minutes ago I found everything dragged away from the walls and you in your bed with the chair on top of you instead of the blankets, which were on the floor.

Yes, I thought, standing there looking at you snoring away with a chair on top of you, this is my baby.

God, if there is a god, save my soul, if I have a soul.

Love one exhausted and defeated Daddy