We’re leaving 3B

What was it, you ask? One too many diapers filled with pungent, viscous, green goo? One too many stomps on Papa’s squishy bits while standing on his lap? The shift from random grasping to conscious depilatory digital attacks on the back of the neck, the chest, and the head–where Papa has precious little to give up?

It was none of those. It’s our night to go to the symphony, so our good friends D&D; are coming over to look after the little bean. We’re hoping that he doesn’t display the aforementioned behaviors too often in the few short hours that he’ll be with them. We’re also hoping that we can tear ourselves away from 3B, since the only other time we’ve both been separated from him was during my reunion–yes, I know that I still owe you a post about that–when we handed him off to my sister, who has two kids of her own.

My fear isn’t for what D&D; will do, but for what 3B will do while they’re here. With my sister, I pretty much knew that whatever he could dream up, she would have seen, dealt with, or at least heard about–as it was, he sacked out on her chest on the couch–but D&D; are in pretty much the same boat that we were in a few short months ago. You know, back when we thought there was no way that sleep would actually come only in two-hour increments, or that we would actually be able to function for weeks at a time on nothing more than extended catnaps interspersed with screaming poopfests. You know, back when the thought of our beautiful little boy peeing all over his own face would have startled us. Now we just keep that coffee flowing for ourselves and wipe off his face and give him a big smile because we know that he not only doesn’t know where the pee came from and what it is, but also he won’t remember it happening as soon as he starts smiling.

Yeah, we’re now bad parents. No biscuit.

But back to D&D; . . . what do we warn them about? What don’t we dare tell them about? How do we get ourselves away from the baby and out the door?

Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?

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  • d.w. and I are still blissfully unaware of what sleep in 2-hour stints is like, although we’re both doing our very best to wrap our minds around what it might be like. But no luck. Even so, we’ve been savoring every full night of sleep, knowing it could be our last for, oh, I don’t even know how long. The mother-in-law arrives tomorrow, so I think today really was our last lazy morning. Sigh…

  • We left our first to go to the theatre when she (the child, not the theatre. obviously.) was not even three weeks old.

    Thing is, we left the chid with my mother and father who lived with us – they knew everything to expect.

    Even still, I called from a payphone at intermission to see how everything was going.

  • Dart gun. By they time they come to you’ll be gone and they will have no choice but to stay.

    Totally.

  • Totally NOT bad parents. Give yourselves 2 biscuits each for taking time for adult activities. The first time we left Duncan, with my mom and stepdad, we came home to them walking him up and down our hallway trying to get him to stop crying…but I never regretted it. And just like the pee in the face, 3B won’t remember that you were gone for a few hours.