Tucker doesn’t like infants; he finds them “uninteresting”.
When he first said that to me during the wonderful period of postpartum hormone craziness, I automatically assumed that what he really meant was that he hated Oliver and wished that he hadn’t been born.
I was wrong. Imagine that.
Tucker completely meant what he had said. To him, infants are small lumps of wobbly necks that he can’t feed and that usually prefer me to him during the early months. Because of this, I let Tucker deal with Cara while I deal with Oliver.
With Cara, it worked out just fine that I was the one who did the infant “parenting”. Her very young life revolved around boob and being held and Tucker’s not so good in the boob department.
I was expecting Oliver to be just like Cara. He’s not.
There are some days when I really think that Oliver would be just as happy with anyone as he is with me. I don’t feel special to him like I did with Cara; I was the one who could comfort Cara when no one else could.
Oliver is just so laid back that I think Sophie could comfort him [she is a very comforting pitbull].
I didn’t feel special to Oliver until last night.
Once Cara had been put down for the night, I went outside to call my step-mom. Tucker was charged with Oliver and the call was only going to take a minute of two.
The call got cut short due to a tooth pulling emergency on my step-mom’s end and Oliver’s screams greeted me when I walked in the door.
It wasn’t a “Who the hell has me?! Where’s my mom” cry. It was more along the lines of “Someone tried to kill me and it hurt really bad!!!”.
Tucker thrust Oliver into my arms and limped off.
Apparently Tucker had been pacing the floor with Oliver when Tucker slipped on the couch cover that had made its way to the floor. Our slick concrete floors and large couch cover conspired to kill both Tucker and Oliver and Tucker fell on his ankle.
I looked Oliver over and though he was physically fine, Oliver was scared shitless.
I popped out a boob and stuck it in Oliver’s gaping mouth and there was silence. Oliver looked up at me and was calm.
And then he dropped my boob and started screaming again.
Rinse and repeat.
After about fifteen minutes, Oliver fell asleep and everything was better.
Officially the first time that I have felt like I was special to Oliver.