Friday, November 03, 2006

Mulligan--Not the Mike and his steam shovel kind

One of my favorite books as a kid--OK, it's probably still in my top 25--was Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, which may be the reason that I liked The Lost Language of Cranes so much, but this isn't about that kind of mulligan.

This is about the golf kind of mulligan--the second chance. I'm announcing that I'm giving myself a second chance at something that I told nobody I was trying and that I failed at after only 48 hours: blopping.

I don't have anything to lose by failing, since I didn't enter my name and URL for all the prizes they're giving away. I didn't want the prizes, I just wanted to see if I could do it. The answer, after two days: No. No, I can't do it.

And here's why . . .

To help 3B sleep better and more regularly, we've been trying to follow a pattern every night, so he knows when it's time to go to sleep. We were thinking of going with bath-book-boob-bed, but we've never gotten book worked in quite right, so it's pretty much bath-boob-bed, and last night was no exception.

Mama nursed him to sleep in our bed, then left him lying there as she snuck out to the living room, in hopes that we could maybe eat some ice cream and have a laugh or two before we both crashed. After about fifteen minutes, however, before we could get started on our plans, 3B was startled awake by something: a burp, a fart, a dream . . . who knows? He let us know that this displeased him by escalating immediately to a sustained shriek, skipping right past pitiful sobs.

By this time, however, Mama was in the midst of a few things in the kitchen, and she hadn't gotten her ice cream yet, so even though I was about two lines away from finishing the post that made half of my six loyal readers hate me, I hustled back to the little screaming bean. I was anxious to get him back to sleep since he hadn't slept all day, even though he'd been busy with a trip to see his newborn friend Luther. I curled up next to him, rolling him on his side to face me with his head on my bicep so he could suck on the shoulder of my shirt, which soothes him. I draped my hand over his back to keep him up against me, on his side, facing me, for warmth and comfort, then I started watching the screen saver flip through our photo collection.

After a few minutes of this, 3B was sound asleep again and I was starting to drift off. I struggled to stay awake, thinking about how I had to finish my post to successfully blop, how I really wanted some ice cream, and how Mama and I have so little time to talk to each other every day, which makes me enjoy our evenings alone together even more. And then I looked down at little 3B, who I had rolled onto his back, slightly away from me, but with his head still on my arm.

I knew that if I pulled my arm away, no matter how carefully, there was about a 50 percent chance that he'd wake up and I'd have to start the whole process again. Looking at him, I started to compare the importance of those other tasks with the importance of 3B: successful blopping or a happy, well-rested 3B? So I turned my gaze back to our screen saver and drifted off. And when I woke up this morning and saw Mama and 3B still slumbering, I knew that I was an unsuccessful blopper, but a satisfied father.

And that's why I'm giving myself a mulligan.

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1 comment:

  1. Ahh do not feel bad, you made the right choice. Iwas just teasing ZD about why he did not give a go, he just laughed at me. Not the right month for that here.

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