Crying

My sweet son was born into this world, gently. He was born in the water at a freestanding birth center. Everything about his birth was quiet, dark and calm.

My sweet son can be anything but quiet and calm.

He has two speeds;

Speed 1. The sweetest, happiest, most outgoing little person.

Speed 2. Crying, crying and crying!

His first day on earth was spent crying and crying while the other new babies of the earth slept and cuddled. Shock.

When he cried throughout his first year, colic. When he cried throughout his second year, terrible twos. Throughout his threes, his temperament.

We are now almost half way through my sweet son's fours. What words can explain the crying away now?

After these crying jags I find myself tired and worn out. This afternoon for example, I plan on watching some DVRed reality shows and popping open a tube of cookie dough. Hello Tori and Dean. The gym, the cleaning, the thank-you notes. They will all have to wait.

My one consolation during this crying is the knowledge that my sweet son is an absolute angel in public. He is probably at nursery school right now charming the class photographer and making the Mommy Helper fall in love with him. At pick-up time I will probably hear all about how absolutely sweet my little mayor was.

A life in politics...maybe?

Rant over.