Needless to say, there is no friendship or mutual admiration present here. And though it may only last a few months, I am sad.Here is a scene from this morning:
I wake at 7am to Ally stirring next to me, knowing full well that Ari will be walking in our door (in a questionable mood) in approximately 5 minutes. I sit down to perhaps nurse Ally quickly before he arrives and then hear a loud thump from Ari's room and his door opening. Shit. Quickly, I set Ally down as Ari comes barreling into our room, his face crumpling and his arms outstretched to me. We sit down in the chair together and rock. He won't look at me. Won't talk to me. Ally starts to cry. Sascha picks her up. Not good enough. Ari is still catatonic on my lap. Ally increases the volume. So I figure, "Well, there's room for two, right?", and ask Ari if perhaps Ally needs to eat in order to stop crying. No answer. With nothing left to lose (presumably, I've already lost him), I plunk a pillow on my lap and nurse Ally in a football hold while holding Ari with the other arm. He arches away from the baby, frowning. "Ari, as soon as she's done, I'm only going to hold you," I placate. No go. After two minutes he twists away from me, slides off my lap and runs to his room. Ally finishes. I hand her to Sascha and make my next move to Ari's room to see if I can fix the wrong-doing of which I am guilty (mothering two children). As soon as I walk in he starts crying, whining and writhing. The prefix to a tantrum. Again. I sit down with him and try to resume "our time". No go. So I ask if he really wants me to leave. Yes. Really? Yes. Okay, I'll be downstairs when you need me. Okay. Would you like me to cover you? Yes. I tuck him in and he allows me a kiss (amazing). Which brings me to the kitchen, a cup of coffee, Guideposts, and tears of frustration. And that's one of the less dramatic starts to our day.
To be continued...
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