Freak Magnet Dave

The week went fairly well. As well as can be expected when a totally unprepared parent looks after an 18 month old girl with a will of her own. Last Monday was the handoff at daycare and I brought Brynn home. The Squeeze was away on business for the week, so that meant it was just the two of us. The most difficult time happened to be mealtimes. I don't know what it was, but every time she was in that high chair with dinner or breakfast in front of her there was grief. It wasn't a meal without sobbing, wailing, and much food in her hair. When I calmly stated, "no, no, that goes in your mouth, not in your hair", she lost her mind, and consequently, I lost mine.

On Tuesday morning I took her to daycare to keep her in her usual routine and told the workers that it appears she's got a bit of a cold. No biggie. It's a daycare. The place is swimming with illness, so they weren't terribly concerned. Every night at home I had a humidifier going in her room with that menthol stuff that hopefully clears the airways. While she slept, she would cough and then cry for about ten minutes until she fell asleep. This happened about every hour. Needless to say, I didn't get a lot of sleep those first few nights either.

A couple of days went by with no major problems, but Thursday the daycare called to see if I could pick Brynn up early. Her cold was really bothering her and she was insufferable unless she was constantly held. She had a bit of a fever, so I gave her some meds to reduce that. Friday morning I took her to see her doctor. They tested her for strep throat (Weezie had it the week before), but it was negative. Just a cold. They told me to keep giving her Advil over the weekend to keep the fever down and make her comfortable. When we got back home, we just cuddled for a while until The Squeeze got back home. WooHoo! Always good to have an extra set of hands and some moral support. The first thing I did was run out to get some more Advil and a few new books for Brynn. She loves books, but I was starting to lose my mind reading the same four books that she brought along with her. "The Wheels On The Bus" can only be read so many times before the lyrics turn to "The blade in my wrist goes slash, slash, slash. Slash, slash, slash. Slash, slash, slash."

We all spent the weekend together and had a good time. Brynn just loves The Squeeze, and the feeling is mutual. He's wrapped around her little finger. We visited the folks on Sunday and she was a bit cranky, but after about an hour or two she warmed up.

Monday was another daycare day. I was hoping to get in to see my chiropractor, because a week of lugging around 30 pounds gets to a guy. No luck. He wasn't working that afternoon. I had to wait until Tuesday. When I picked her up in the afternoon, I had her on the floor while I put her coat on, and a little girl around four years old came up to me and said, "Are you her grandpa?" Nice, kid. Real nice. "Though technically I am old enough to be her grandfather, I am actually her daddy."

Tuesday morning I was starting to feel a bit rough. I was stuffed up. After taking Brynn to daycare for the last time, I came home and gathered up her things and did some laundry. In the afternoon, I loaded up the car, stopped off at the chiropractor for a good crack, and headed to meet Weezie at the daycare for the handoff. We unloaded my car and loaded up her SUV, and we went in to get Brynn. We watched her play in the little play kitchen for a few minutes before she looked up and saw us. She looked up, smiled and toddled on over. Weezie and I figured Brynn would be so glad to see her after this week. Brynn made her way over, looked suspiciously at Weezie, and held her arms up to me. Well, I didn't see THAT coming! When Weezie took Brynn from my arms, she screamed bloody murder. It was as if she didn't recognize her. OK, she came back with a tan, but still! And it went on and on. She was only calm when I held her. "You must be loving this," she said. Ya, I just love to hear my daughter cry. NOT!

Weezie took Brynn to put her coat on, and she kept on screaming. When I was putting the carseat in Weezie's SUV and she held her, it was non-stop screaming. I had to take her and let Weezie finish with the car seat. I buckled her up in her seat, while she cried, knowing that she wasn't going with me. I closed the door and listened to her fading cries as Weezie drove off.

I came home to a very empty house. She's only been with me for a week, but the place sure didn't feel the same. When The Squeeze came home from work he said the same thing. We miss her so much. As much hard work, stress and pressure as it was, there was so much happiness. I miss having her sit on my lap as I read the same books to her over and over and over. I miss the way she "talks" to me. I miss that little laugh and that big grin. I miss hearing her say "Dada" and "Papa". And "ball" and "Pooh". I miss how as I read her book "Kiss Hello, Kiss Goodbye", she would go "mmmmmmmmmmmwaaaaaaaahhh" and kiss me. I miss how she hums the tune to "The Wheels On The Bus". Most of all, I miss picking her up from her crib in the morning and cuddling with her.

Weezie called last night to tell me that Brynn calmed down and when she saw Zoe, it was business as usual. On Friday, her mother has hip replacement surgery, and she wants me to take the girls for a few hours while she visits her after work. We can't wait.

Last night I was really feeling terrible. Everything aches. My nose won't stop running, I'm coughing and blowing my nose raw. I'm popping Advil and cough candies. When I went to bed last night I was shivering and just couldn't seem to get warm. It looks like Brynn left me a little something to remember her by until Friday. It's a small price to pay for a "Kiss Goodbye".

Mmmmmmmmmmmwaaaaaaaaahhhh!