I took him from my father and though he was reluctant at first but the moment he was in my arms he snuggled in quiet comfortably that I felt the longings for fatherhood.
I lifted him higher and almost placed him across my neck but changed my mind at the last minute. Brought him back down and made him stand on the arm rest of the sofa. And whilst I supported his bum with my hand I pulled away rather fast like I had been stung because his trainer pant felt rather soft. Yes he had done the do-do in the pant and I couldn't believe that no one had smelt it.
Next thing was me yelling that he had done the mighty number two in his pants and where was his mother. Of course I knew she wasn't in but I needed someone to do the cleaning and not me. It was bad enough that I had caught the smell of it on my palm, but my mind just wasn't in the accepting mood for a whole lot more than that.
Pa took him from me and after a long few minutes he came out from 'do-do' cleaning smelling fresh and then I wanted him back.
Got me thinking, yet again; how do men deal with helping their wives with such issues in the home? Whose job is it to change the diapers, cook the meals, help with the children's homework, and administer discipline and a whole lot that goes into raising good children?
Hmm...
By the way, the baby's not mine. But I won't mind him being mine cause he is so cute. *ehehe*
About two days after the above incidence, a friend lost the baby born a day before. That was really a very depressing and devastating story. I just couldn't believe it initially but it was the brother to the wife who broke the news to me. And then I was faced with the dilemma of calling or paying them a condolence visit. But how do you call one who lost the first baby on the phone to empathize with them on the passing of a child that they had waited at least nine months for? A child that had been bathed, dressed, feed, diaper changed long before its expiration period in the womb? A child already named and a woman already being called a mother simply due to a protrusion that carried another life and signified stepping unto another level?
I really can't imagine the agony of their hearts. Empathizing no matter how much, I would never be able to understand the loss of a bundle that great expectation had been built upon.
I often ponder about the absurdities of this life. The things we take for granted and then we loose them and then wish we had them? I really can't just begin to describe.
I lifted him higher and almost placed him across my neck but changed my mind at the last minute. Brought him back down and made him stand on the arm rest of the sofa. And whilst I supported his bum with my hand I pulled away rather fast like I had been stung because his trainer pant felt rather soft. Yes he had done the do-do in the pant and I couldn't believe that no one had smelt it.
Next thing was me yelling that he had done the mighty number two in his pants and where was his mother. Of course I knew she wasn't in but I needed someone to do the cleaning and not me. It was bad enough that I had caught the smell of it on my palm, but my mind just wasn't in the accepting mood for a whole lot more than that.
Pa took him from me and after a long few minutes he came out from 'do-do' cleaning smelling fresh and then I wanted him back.
Got me thinking, yet again; how do men deal with helping their wives with such issues in the home? Whose job is it to change the diapers, cook the meals, help with the children's homework, and administer discipline and a whole lot that goes into raising good children?
Hmm...
By the way, the baby's not mine. But I won't mind him being mine cause he is so cute. *ehehe*
About two days after the above incidence, a friend lost the baby born a day before. That was really a very depressing and devastating story. I just couldn't believe it initially but it was the brother to the wife who broke the news to me. And then I was faced with the dilemma of calling or paying them a condolence visit. But how do you call one who lost the first baby on the phone to empathize with them on the passing of a child that they had waited at least nine months for? A child that had been bathed, dressed, feed, diaper changed long before its expiration period in the womb? A child already named and a woman already being called a mother simply due to a protrusion that carried another life and signified stepping unto another level?
I really can't imagine the agony of their hearts. Empathizing no matter how much, I would never be able to understand the loss of a bundle that great expectation had been built upon.
I often ponder about the absurdities of this life. The things we take for granted and then we loose them and then wish we had them? I really can't just begin to describe.
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