Dadzilla Vs. John Deere

This morning at 3:30am I kicked my son’s miniature John Deere tractor across his bedroom floor. BANG! It hurt my foot and woke my wife. I told her it had been an accident and she rolled back into the covers of our bed grimacing. I think she bought it, but the truth is I was in a sleepless rage.

It’s funny the things that wake me up. I can sleep through a savage thunderstorm or even a sixteen wheeler crashing into the telephone pole in my front yard, but the sound of my sons head rustling against the covers wakes me from the dead. That’s how it starts. It takes about four minutes for him to reach full meltdown. I’ve never timed it, but I have counted breaths, praying between each one that somehow he’d drift back to sleep.

The slow struggle builds with a melody of grunts and moans. His small fingernails start to scratch against the lattice work of fabric that holds him in. All the while my jaw clinches tighter and my limp fingers find fists. Pavlov himself could not elicit more complete conditioned responses. He’s methodical and calculating. Now wailing at full volume, he begins twisting and turning, pounding his chubby little feet on the mattress until finally I fling open the sheets and stumble to attention.

Typically, I am an instant victim, powerless against his cuddly little frame. This morning I was immune. I collected him from his bed holding him tightly in my arms. Not so tight that he might be hurt, but enough to relieve him of his devices and stir up some fatherly satisfaction. I struggled for a moment and then before I realized it my residual anger was channeled into the small toy. It took flight and then found the wall.

Dealing with this irritability has been an interesting challenge. Running on a half tank, it sometimes becomes hard to see all that I am grateful for. Even in the eyes of my child. Dim moments like these are normal, and I am not concerned that I will ever do anything to regret. I just want to be aware of myself and see my choices more clearly. Even through swollen eyes at three in the morning.