This is going to be a bipolar post, and you'll understand once you've finished reading.
This morning was another attack of the Terribles. Billy wanted my comb. Now, Daddy often lets him play with my comb and carry it around the house, which, of course, means that when I need to comb my hair I can never find my comb. I have one simple rule: it stays in the bathroom. Simple enough, right? Nope. I don't get it. Daddy loves my comb and steals it from me. Billy steals it from me- loving it for entirely different reasons I'm sure. It's an old plastic comb that Grandma bought for me long before I could drive. It's missing a tooth in the middle. And in this house you would think it's the Holy Grail of Combs.
Anyway, I didn't want it wandering so I took it away from Billy. He asked for it back and I told him no. I was holding him at the time. So, he ripped the binky out of his mouth with force and then tried to shove it in my mouth with equal force, I guess to silence me. It was actually quite funny. He still didn't get the comb.
This evening was more Precocious Billy. He tried to eat a handful of dog food. (Hey, if Buddy likes it, it must be good!) He hugged and cuddled with the kitchen garbage can. This is not an exaggeration. They cuddled. It wasn't cute. Thank God I keep the can clean. Yuck! Then I asked him to give something to Daddy. He hid it behind his back and ran away, keeping his back turned from Daddy. Yep. It was that kind of night.
And now to switch gears.
I read on facebook today about a friend of mine from college. She's not a friend that I've kept in touch with, but we are fb friends. I learned today that her infant girl died. I'm heartbroken for her. This woman is a sweetheart. I can't imagine the pain she is in. Her child was here long enough to fall in love and then to lose. It's terrible. But I haven't written to her and I probably won't. We haven't communicated since college and now is not the time. I wouldn't know what to say. Only that I shed a tear for her.
I just finished reading a book in which the author describes losing her baby sister. It's a true story. She talked about walking into the baby's room and the sheets still smelling of baby, of the empty crib, the toys that would never be played with again, the clothes laid out. I had a very difficult time reading those chapters. That baby was 1.5 yrs old and accidentally drowned. She talked about her mother losing herself into the bottle.
It's hard for me to comprehend the grief and I don't want to. I hope to never know. I hope YOU never know, either. But so many mothers (and fathers) do. So tonight I hope you will join me. Say a prayer, have a thought, or whatever you do. Send some prayers to the parentss who tonight have empty cribs and for their children who won't get the joy of growing up.