Katie is off at a SNOMOMs meeting.  She didn’t quite leave me alone – Malin’s here, so if one of the boys had developed an interest in Drano I’d have had backup, but fortunately I didn’t have to call on her.  Tomorrow night they’re both leaving me in the lurch, though.  Katie’s off to play volleyball, while Malin’s going to her first Spanish class.  <sigh>  I hope they count how many boys are alive before they leave, because I make no promises.

The ear infections are back.  Well, I guess they haven’t gone away, so they’re at least 2 weeks into them, and more like 3.  Now they’re on a new antibiotic, a purple one, and purple is clearly superior to white (the color of the last medicine), so I’ve no doubt it’ll work wonders.  Nonetheless, I had to rock Dexter to sleep tonight, even after some IBUprofen.

Actually, that’s an interesting thing about Dex.  He fights going to sleep so badly, but really he only fights you leaving him alone in his crib.  As long as you stay nearby, he’s fine.  Or as long as you hold him.  Tonight he screamed for 10 minutes, but I caved because he started choking on the phloem, and the more he screamed the worse it was getting.  I picked him up, went over to the chair, sat down, and rocked gently with him sitting on my lap, leaning back against me.  He didn’t move or make a sound.  His eyes were wide open for about 20 minutes.  Then for the next 10 minutes they started blinking longer and longer, and then he started to snore softly, and that was it.  They’re nice moments, to be sure.  I mean, my to-do list is usually several volumes long, with an appendix or twenty tacked on, so once they’re out I’m supposed to get moving, but when he forces you to sit there, and if you can just run with it, it’s really nice.  He’s a very, very good snuggler. 

Which makes me feel all the worse for trying so hard to kill him over the last few weeks.  First we downplay the raging ear infections, and try to wait it out.  Then I cut him while trying to remove a bandage.  I’ve probably tried to sit on him once or twice as well, and I’m sure I’ve done some joint-damage during some of the more actively protested diaper changes. 

Nicholas hasn’t had it all that easy the last few weeks either, though.  The same infections, predictably enough, and non-stop neediness.  Then, two days after I stabbed Dexter and was just kind of sort of starting to not feel like the worst father ever to walk the Earth, I open the front door to yell to Carter and Marilyn about where to park, and turn to the right as I go back inside, while apparently Nicholas went around the left.  I didn’t even notice.  I went back inside, and a few seconds later, I heard screaming.  Very faint screaming.  Where was it coming from???  And then I saw a hint of movement out the window, and saw Nicholas laying at the base of our steps, screaming in pain.  He’d walked straight off our porch, smacked his head horribly, rolled, cut open his cheek, an scratched his chest. 

This is him 5 minutes later – he didn’t much like the ice I held to his forehead, but he was pretty calm about it.

And here you can see his battlescars starting to form in earnest:

I think I had just about enough guilt last week.  I DON’T LIKE this part of parenting.  I can handle the rules, and the poop, and the puking, and feeds, and the work, and the poverty – but I can’t handle screwing up and hurting them.