May 19, 2010

Son's scream of death has scared me away from enjoying daily blessing


I've started a new blog called "A Crash Course in Daddyhood."

I use this as a outlet for all the fodder that my 3-month-old son provides – from blowouts in his diaper to the simple pleasures of being a dad.

I thought I would actually share a quick post about Baby Crash on this blog, though. (You know...do a little marketing for my other endeavor.)

This post is short and sweet – a lot like my son.

The idea came to me this morning as I was leaving the house for the day.

Normally, Crash is up and around – propped up in our bed next to his sleeping mommy – smiling and laughing – or he's eating breakfast from the boob (mommy sleeping in this instance, too).

When I leave the house to attack the day, those smiles and giggles light me up. (Can't wait until he can wave!) I know that he barely recognizes me from the dog, but I'll take "barely" and all the facial expressions that go along with it.

This morning was different, though.

I left the house earlier than normal for a men's fellowship at church.

Crash hadn't stirred yet, realizing he was about to drowned and/or starve to death. (He normally wakes up with shrieks of terror in his lungs..."my diaper is wet and I'm starting to digest my bile! HELP ME!")

As I went to kiss him goodbye, he was sleeping like an angel in his crib.

I stood over him and just watched him breathe.

I kissed his forehead.

I kissed his cheek.

I touched his little hand.

I gently pinched the fat rolls on his legs.

I said a small prayer, "Thank you, God, for this wonderfully great blessing."

I'm sure I was smiling like an idiot.

After a few seconds, I thought to myself: "Why don't I do this more often?"

I pondered for a second, and then I realized (cue another big smile – and a slight head nod)....

When he's sleeping, I'm usually tip-toeing out of the room as fast as possible, trying to avoid the squeaky floor boards and praying that Brother Gus doesn't gallup into the nursery or start barking at his shadow.

I need to stop worrying about holding my breath as I dash out the door.

I need to stop fearing his scream of death if I accidently make a sound.

I need to just stop – take a couple minutes every day and watch our little miracle dream about the angels.

3 comments:

Steve said...

Wow, that made me smile and tear up at the same time.

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joven said...

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