As a family living in a busy urban city it can be very easy to get into the grind of just getting things done and quickly. The list of things to do includes manoeuvring traffic to get to work and school, running the home, paying bills, cooking and cleaning before you add the biggest task of all -- raising the children.
Right now, I'm going to let my tears fall in the shower, instead of in front of my child. I'm going to turn off the television, close the Facebook tab, toss the paper in the recycling under bottles and cans. I'm going to let my daughter play and laugh, and not know all of the terrible things that I have to know.
He started softly at first, and then began growing in volume. Over and over and over. It wasn't like he was saying, "Oh God!" More like just intoning the name of the primordial creator as if it was a mantra, rolling the word around in his mouth slowly and repeatedly, like it was a marble or a malted ball.
Before we left the hospital with Lev, the nurse gave us a little lecture about how important it is not to shake the baby. We've all read about awful incidents in the newspaper often enough to realize why the state has now mandated this little chat with new parents--though I found it odd that they not only explain it, but make both parents sign a document promising we would not violently shake Lev.