Tag Archives: motherhood

Emotional hostage

There are those times when, as a father and as a man, you need to grit your teeth and do the right thing. I was faced with that decision tonight. So I gritted my teeth, picked up my bag, and told my wife that I couldn’t handle my son’s cries, and I was going to take a walk. She smiled, gave me a kiss, and told me to have fun.

So here I am now, huddled in the Barnes and Noble down the street, hiding from my son’s current meltdown.

Perhaps, this is not one of my finest moments.

You see, my son has taken me emotionally hostage. It all started a week or two ago during our morning commute. While driving my wife to work, I heard a sound that freezes any parent’s blood. I heard my son choking. Loud gagging sounds struck me from behind like a club to the back of the head. I panicked. “What is he choking on?!” I asked my wife. She glanced to the side out of the corner of her eye.

“He’s just choking himself for attention. It’s no big deal.”


Sure enough, ever since then, whenever he wants attention, my son stuffs his hand into his mouth and starts gagging. Over the course of the last year, I’ve learned to filter out most of his sounds. I learned to ignore most non-essential crying (to save my sanity) within the first six months. I especially learned to tune out whining — that high-pitched, carefully rehearsed screech when I won’t let him climb into the toilet. I was Tough Dad, impervious to his attempts to break me. My wife, still full of that crazy hormone cocktail that makes mothers fall in love with their babies on first sight, suggested that we give in just a little, just to make him happy. I didn’t. I stood strong.

But my son knows that despite my Tough Dad exterior, I love him fiercely. He knows I would fight rabid dogs hand-to-paw for him. I would kill hordes of Nazis to save him. And so, he knew that the only way to get my attention is to make himself sound like he’s in danger, to activate my father instincts.

Thus, the choking.

My wife, on the other hand, now mostly pregnancy/labor hormone free, knows the game. Raising four siblings from infancy does that, I guess. She assures me there is nothing wrong. He simply has found my weakpoint and now he is exploiting it. Hard.

And so here I am, tonight, hiding. We had put him to bed and despite being tired, he didn’t want to sleep. So the minute we close the door, the gagging sounds begin, drowning out the sound of my breaking heart.

My wife shakes her head when she sees me start to bend. “He is in no danger,” she tells me again. “It is all just an act.”

Then the crying shifts. It’s not the usual whining, I’m-tired crying, or the very forced, carefully calculated fake-crying. It is howling, a primal scream that he only makes when he’s hurt. My blood pressure is spiking. My wife is nonplussed, playing Disgea on her Nintendo DS with headphones over her ears.

I am in agony. The timer goes off. My wife goes in to check on our son. The crying immediately stops when she walks in. But after singing a lullaby and walking out, the choking and screaming starts all over again.

“He’s not –?”

“He is not in any pain or any danger. I checked. No fever, no illness. He’s faking everything,” my wife reports.

I am sitting on the couch, alternating between covering my ears and putting my head between my knees. My son continues to scream his I’m-hurt-please-cry. My stomach is in knots.

You spend your entire life after your child is born looking for those signs of humanity. Not just life — the crying and pooping that indicates he’s still alive. You start looking for those markers that say “I am human!” The first time your child laughs or genuinely smiles is magical. When your child experiences his first thunderstorm and he clings to you, your heart melts. And when you first betray your child during his vaccinations and he stares at you, begging for an answer as to why you let these shots happen, it demolishes you.

But deception — it is amazing how quickly a child exhibits deception. And, when your child first hides something from you (say, a piece of paper he wants to eat) because he knows he is not supposed to have it, it deeply disturbs you. For what could possibly be more human than trying to deceive another human being?

His cries are reaching a fever pitch, something almost alien. It is not real, and yet it sounds real and it most definitely feels real. His level of acting is devastating. My son, who can barely put together sounds to make rudimentary words already knows how to lie to his father. As I try to block the horrible sounds out, I remember The Vaccination Incident. We are even, I think through gritted teeth. I don’t feel bad about that anymore.

“I can’t take this,” I say. My wife laughs, my dear wife, my Tough Mom of a wife. “I’m going for a walk,” I inform her.

She gives me a kiss goodbye. “Have fun,” she says as I walk out the door, my tail tucked between my legs, my Tough Dad costume torn to shreds on my son’s bedroom floor.



Filed under life stories, parenting

An Open Letter to Sisters of the Church

Dear Sisters,

I still remember the day I went up to my mom and told her that I wanted to be a mom just like her. She immediately became uncomfortable, patted my head, and told me to play outside, but even as a child I could understand that something was wrong. As I grew older and learned more about my role as a man in the Church, I became bitter at the idea that the Church teaches that men cannot hold the sacred office of motherhood, no matter how righteous we are or no matter how much we want it, and, I will admit, I became quite bitter against the Church.

But I was soon blessed with a wonderful marriage to an amazing wife who has taught me that though I may see the fact that men can never hold motherhood unfair, this is all part of God’s divine plan. You see, my wife explained to me that men are still special and wonderful and valued in the Church. She told me how women need to have motherhood because men are already more pure and virtuous than women, and that without motherhood, women wouldn’t have a reason to improve themselves. Just look at all of the women neglecting their children’s needs, she said. Need I look for more proof? I knew in my heart what she taught me was true; after all, the women in Relief Societies often met together for “Enrichment” to improve themselves, away from their families, while the men in the Priesthood quorums rarely ever had any outside activities – we were too busy making a living, building careers and providing for our families to indulge in such things! Women are just generally selfish and self-centered, and they need motherhood to train and domesticate them to be more nurturing and loving. It all suddenly made sense. Men already do so much in the Church, my wife explained with a wink, and imagine if men were priesthood holders and mothers as well? Why, should we expect that men should be bishops and prophets and apostles and mothers and Relief Society Presidents and Primary Presidents? What would be left for the women to do? My mind boggled. I had never thought of it that way before!

I guess what I want to do is apologize for my near-sighted stubbornness. I now understand that motherhood is a great equalizer, and more of a burden — not a blessing — and despite all of your pre-disposed faults, your husbands and fathers love you despite them, and perhaps even because of them. All I ask is just to please remember us little guys, and to respect fatherhood and to treat your husbands with respect. And we’ll hold up our part of the bargain and support you and your important work from afar. The Church teaches us that motherhood is the most important calling of all, and though I wish I could help, and though I wish I could bring my naturally gifted nurturing and caring talents to such an important work, I understand that my place is outside of the home, and I will be blessed for my obedience, no matter how distasteful I may at first find it to be.




Filed under religion, wordsmithing