Timothy will be eleven months old tomorrow.
Last night, Laura was with friends from college who are visiting, and with Elisabeth working as a camp counselor and Catherine out for the night, it was just the little man and me. He was tired and at 10pm, I fed him his five ounces and he collapsed, asleep against my shoulder. I calmly laid him down in his bed and walked out the door of his room… and then he started screaming.
It’s funny because T has almost never done this. I decided to let him cry a bit and see if he went to sleep.
But he cried and cried. I watched a soccer game highlight to distract myself, but couldn’t even hear the occasional ‘Gooooooooalllll’ above Timothy’s wail. After he had cried for five minutes, I decided to throw in the burp cloth and make a peace offering. I started mixing two more ounces of formula. But by the time I had spilt it on the floor, cleaned it up, and made an additional two ounces, the crying had stopped.
Part of me felt vindicated for making the tough decision to let him cry it out, but most of me was disappointed that I had missed a chance to comfort the baby boy.
It reminded me of another recent decision…
A year ago we dropped our dog, Thibault (pronounced ‘T – bow’) off at his new home. He was a beautiful yellow lab/ husky mix, but he was sometimes a nervous dog, and had bitten a boy. And so when Laura found out in January of 2011 that she was pregnant, as much as we loved Thibault, we knew that he couldn’t stay with us.
We talked a lot about how to tell the girls (‘will they be mad at the baby?’), but that was settled when Elisabeth found a brochure for a no kill shelter that I had accidentally left lying around. The kids were sad but took the news well (as long as we were getting another dog in the near future).
We looked for an owner for almost six months, and considered whether we could put down a healthy dog. But then, less than two months before Laura’s due date, a very nice couple appeared and agreed to adopt him. We were super lucky, and we dropped Thibault off at their house a year ago.
It’s funny, these decisions that we all make, big and small, that are pretty simple on paper and a little trickier emotionally to wade through, and we just hope that we mostly make the right ones.
So this morning, I was ready to explain to Timothy why it was best for everyone for me to watch that soccer highlight last night instead of picking him up.
But he was just happy to see me.
And then I changed a very dirty diaper.