Gimme Ten Steps

Yesterday started off with a screaming fit from Baby G around 5am. I didn’t see it as a harbinger of things to come but simply rolled over as Mama took him and the now awake B downstairs. An hour later I stumbled downstairs, messed around with the two little cretins while their mother went for a run, and eventually readied myself for Yoga at 8am. When I walked back into the house around 10 I was in great spirits, full of fresh breath and devoid of toxins, at peace with the world.

The feeling was short-lived. “Where’s everybody at?” I asked once inside the door and was met by a cross look from Mama. The baby was asleep upstairs. I tiptoed into the TV room where B sat on the couch with tears in his eyes. Then a cry from G upstairs. Within fifteen minutes I had yelled at B to quit trying to close the back door in his brother’s face. Things just snowballed from there.

At some point, B and I got into the shower to wash off for the movie–Spider-Man–we were going to see. While washing my hair, I felt an odd trickle on my leg and looked down to see my four-year-old son peeing on me with a smile on his face. All I did was sigh.

I don’t know what I was thinking taking B to Spider-Man. He’s obviously too young and when he said he wanted to go during a fight scene between Spidey and the Lizard I happily agreed. For the last hour-and-a-half he had talked my ear off, asking me questions like “Is that Peter Parker?” “Where is his dad?” “Is that the Lizard?” On and on and on. It was exhausting.

Back home the turmoil continued, fits and fighting. Then at the dinner table, B turned to me and spoke, “Daddy, you are annoying.” I just dropped my head. It hurt.

Finally, upstairs to the kids room where I sat on the floor just biding time until they went to bed. Locked in a bout of self-pity, all I could think about was what a disaster the day had been. Then baby G stood up on his own, and wavering back and forth took a step, then another and fell to his butt. It was thrilling. His mom had just told me he’d taken a couple of steps earlier but these were the first I’d ever seen him take. Then he stood again and took another wobbly step, then another, and another until he’d moved all the way over to his mother. Ten steps in all. Back down on his butt then back up again. He’d take two or three then pivot and take a couple more before landing on his tush again. This went on for another fifteen minutes, with us all laughing and cheering G on. Meanwhile, he smiled, ecstatic and obsessed with his new ability.

When they finally went to bed, my mood had changed and the day had been cast in a new light. That’s always how it is with kids. Hour after hour can be trying as hell but redemption is always around the corner. Of course, it can work the other way as well. It’s just all part of the visceral experience of parenting.