First Day of Daycare

Patrick's first day of daycare showed me how truly terrifying being a parent can be.

Jennifer and I made arrangements at work so we could both be there as he was dropped off. We walked him in and handed him over, along with several months worth of clothing and food. He was in tears (yes, afraid of being abandoned at several months old), his mother was in tears (afraid he would hate her ... logically knowing he cried because he loved her), and I was fighting to keep the tears at bay (being the good, strong husband ... man, was that painful).

We got as far as the car before Jen's waterworks started up again. I held her ... for what seemed like hours, letting her take strength from me. All the time, I was hiding the weak feeling in my knees.

Eventually, we got to work.

Then, the phone call ... it was Jen, picking him up. Another phone call ... they survived the five minute car ride home (first time without me). Another call ... he was happy and feeding.

Finally, my work day ended and I arrived home and got a chance to hold my son. Not a big deal since I had been back to work for a few weeks already ... a huge deal since there had been so much emotion throughout the day.

Over dinner, we shared the simple fears ... yes, Jen was afraid she would not recognize our son when she went to pick him up at daycare ... and, yes she did recognize him.

Patrick slept solidly through the night that night, as did his parents ... as we do on most nights when he is in school.

I've kind of hoped that all of this would get easier, but since Jen mentioned the fear not recognizing Patrick when picking him up ... I've felt the clench inside me now and then.

My father stopped in a while back for Father's Donut Day at the school, since I could not make it. He had fun and had some awesome stories to share. He asked me how I manage to drop Patrick off at school ... apparently, Patrick thought he was there to pick him up and was very upset when his Papap left him there. My advice was simple ... I wait until Patrick is not looking and run, otherwise I will be debating whether to go back and get him from school for the rest of the day.

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"Hello?"

We walked into my parents house ... looking for Papap. "Hello," we called. "'Ello," Patrick mimicked. "Hello," we called again, laughing a bit. "'Ello," Patrick mimicked again, delighted that he could get us laughing that easily. Out in the back yard, he went for the shovel (small blue plastic one I got for him a while back). "Maybe he should go shovel in the sand-box," Papap said ... Off he went to the sand-box, lugging the shovel. Later I asked him if he wanted raisins. Shaking his head no, he headed for the fridge. "Eeze," he said ... Cheese, he intended. His comprehension and vocal capacity is growing by leaps and bounds!

A Simple Evening

We had my parents over for dinner last night ... Patrick and Jen prepared dinner, even going as far as making brownies for desert! It was very cool watching Patrick cuddle with his Grandfather. It is always amazing to me how those two get along. It was also very cool watching Patrick and his Grandmother read a book together ... Before dinner, he got a chance to show off the cast-iron toy stove that Jen had played with as a child. This has become one of his favorite toys ... the parts certainly make a lot of noise when he tosses them across the room. At dinner, I sat next to Patrick, across from his grandparents ... their expressions as they watched him were sheer joy and a joy to watch, as well. At one point, I asked Patrick to show them the Moon and Stars in his room. He has a humidifier that lights up, projecting colored starts and a moon on the ceiling ... he loves them. He immediately headed for the stairs, and turned to his grandparents and signaled come on ... a q

Terror or Anger

Jennifer and I woke about twenty minutes ago to Patrick crying ... nothing unusual. I asked her to get him since I have to start getting ready for work in about three hours (yes, I have to work on a Saturday). Where things became unusual was the loud, sustained crash, and Patrick's cries rising to a hefty scream. Being the concerned parent that I am ... with visions of his changing table collapsed on top of him, I rushed to their aid. "What was that?" I cried. Jennifer, weakly replied, "I fell down the stairs." With Patrick screaming at the top of his lungs, I think I actually asked her to repeat what she said. I found my wife sitting, with her legs out and my son in her arms, at the bottom of the stairs. Asking if she and Patrick were OK was mixed into confused questioning about what happened. Somehow, her feet went out from under her (we suspect a couple of the leaves that Patrick likes to play with were on the steps). While my real concern was i

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