A few days ago, I was playing with the kids in the backyard and we have one of those plastic kids basketball hoops.
Well, my 8 year old has become fairly proficient at making baskets with a worn out old Nerf ball. I, however, have not put in the practice time necessary to consistently make any baskets on this hoop or with that ball. We played a rousing game of P-I-G and he eeked past me to win.
Every day after school, my son comes over to the church I work at for quiet homework and reading time and after that, maybe some screw around time. Usually there is another kid he likes to play with, but yesterday he wasn't there. After I finished up some work, I decided that it was time.
I am kind of a sore loser. Back in the day I was "Charismatic" about winning and now I am simply grumbly about losing. The church has a small fellowship hall with a real basketball hoop. So yesterday, we played H-O-R-S-E. I got no letters and creamed the poor kid. We had tons of fun playing, but I reminded him that Dad is still the king of the court. I won.
Last night was not a game that I was going to win. My 4 year old has Down Syndrome. It is most definitely not what defines him, but it is something that is part of our lives and always will be. Anyhow, he and I don't always communicate on the same plane as he does with his mother, who is a saint. Last night we were both at a loss. About an hour after going to bed, he began to cry. His stomach was hard, distended. We thought that some time on the toilet was in order... nothing. He calmed down and we laid him back down. 15 minutes later, here he is sobbing again. We knew that his tummy hurt, or his head hurt or some combination of the two, but we had run out of the kinds of medicine that would treat such ailments. Finally, after fighting this until about midnight, I ran to the store and picked up some baby gas drops and some tums. I returned home, hoping to quiet the bubble-guts inside of this tired 4 year old, No Luck. After he got a dose of medicine, he barfed. Then about 20 minutes later, he barfed. On and on for a while until the poor kid was absolutely empty. I need you to know that this child has had many digestive issues and stomach issues and things, so this type of barfing is not out of the ordinary for him when he gets sick. Had it been any of the other kids, we probably would have called a doctor. For the rest of the night, he would cry for ten minutes and sleep for ten minutes. Until 7 o'clock in the morning.
My wife and I tried taking shifts, but our house is not terribly large and I am a very light sleeper. I didn't do much "sleeping" during her shift. Eventually her back could not fight with a cuddly roly-poly squirmy octopus boy and I switched spots with her. I held my ground until 7 and then since he hadn't barfed in a few hours, I took him to snuggle with me while Julie got the kids ready for school and such. He was, at that point, out cold. No fighting, no rolling, no nothing. He was sleeping and I was not. Did he win? I think the game was about more than sleep.
The game, I think, was to see how far we could push mom and dad before they would stop being present for the situation. Well, he found out. As a father, I try to be present as much as possible. Not that I try to be around, but I try to be present, be part of the things going on, answer questions, beat an 8 year old at HORSE, play or whatever my kiddos need from me at the time. So even though I am super tired sitting at my desk, I know that for all those hours last night, I was present and my kids knew that. Don't settle for being around, you are not part of the environment. You are a parent, an integral and important part of your child growing up and forming into an adult that people want to be around. Be present.
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