Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

Mother and Son (#understanding)

My mother pours herself another glass of wine out of desperation as I wail. 

Unfortunately, I have no other choice, seeing as at ten months old I'm not able to speak. My mother takes a large gulp of wine. 

"Shhh, honey. It's ok," she sings. She offers me a bottle of milk for the tenth time and I bat it away in frustration and scream louder. 

My mother's hair is unkempt, her shirt is covered in spit-up. I've seen pictures of her in the living room from just over a year ago and she was a stunner. But not tonight. Tonight she a frazzled mess.

Dad seems to have disappeared. Perhaps this is his 'night with the boys,' but mom has been at it all day with me and honestly I haven't been in a good mood. 

Mom turns on the vacuum cleaner because that helped when I was younger and had colic. But now I'm bigger and I can out scream any man made noise. I proved that on the last flight to grandma's house when not even the roar of a 747 engine at takeoff could smother the sound of my vocal chords at full blast. 

I'm good.

But she is getting it all wrong tonight. She changes my diaper for the third time after I fart. Fart! I've sat happily with a loaded diaper so full my they had to dig the poo out of my belly button and did I make a peep? No. I'm usually not that picky about my diaper. But mom is cycling through all of the multiple choice options she can think of that can make a baby stop crying and so another Pampers goes in the landfill. 

"How about a cookie?" I spit it out.

She puts me in my crib two hours before bedtime. Like I'd ever sleep in that cage! Ha!

She sits with me in the dark thinking maybe I'm tired. Nope.

"Are you teething?" She forces ice cream into my mouth. I swallow (it's pretty good) and give her a twenty second reprieve and then resume my crying. 

Mom is on her third glass of wine now but stops half way through it and puts me in my car seat. I'm not really sure she should be driving, but she is hoping it will settle me down. I wail relentlessly as she drives through the neighborhood. 

We come back into the house and mom picks up her wine glass again. She is on the phone with dad. 

"Get your butt home right now!"

I wonder if they will call the doctor. I've never seen Mom so distraught over me before. She is pouring her forth glass, cheeks beet red. My crying is tiring her out. 

I reach towards her glass and do something I've never thought to do before. I point.

Mom freezes, glass half way to her lips and looks at my little finger. Then she sits down on the sofa and holds the glass to my lips. I take a few sips and quiet for the first time in hours. 

Mom takes another gulp and then gives me another tiny sip. We both smile at each other. Peace is restored. 

Dad comes home thirty minutes later to find us both asleep on the sofa.