Thursday, September 10, 2009

Poor Kid

It's hard for even me to believe, but I'm almost feeling more sorry for Clay right now.

Brennan continues to mend. The diaper changes are becoming less awful (not good, but less-and-less of an absolute heart-wrenching event). The drugs continue to pay dividends (he's been running around since midday Wednesday while we desperately try to keep him from hurting himself). And he gets attention -- lots of it. Constant snuggling and affection. Kisses, hugs, and affirmation.

Clay, on the other hand, is almost an afterthought. He came back from my folks' midday Wednesday, and it's been nearly constant, "Watch out Clay! Look out for Brennan! Don't hurt Brennan. Give Brennan a hug. Give Brennan that toy." On and on and on.

This afternoon I was putting Clay down for his nap and I realized that I had barely paid him a thought for probably a week (or more). In the run up to the surgery and in its aftermath, Brennan has been the center of my universe and Clay has gotten very short shrift.

So I feel pretty lousy about that. Brennan still needs plenty of love and attention, but I've got to find some way to balance it and make sure Clay is cared for as well. Otherwise, Clay is bound to go off and get himself some sort of serious injury to share in the attention. Trust me, it's in his genes.


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