What is it about crying that makes it so hard to listen to? The sound? The knowledge that someone we love is in pain?
I’ve heard far too much crying this week. One overtired, teething babe who won’t feed because his gums hurt, so he cries because he’s hungry which makes him tired which makes him cry all the more. One overwrought little girl going through a room change at nursery (moving up from toddler room to preschool) who is so bothered by change that her world seems to fall apart; taking out her frustration and worries on the people she can trust are a constant.
I’ve been pretty close to breaking point myself this week. I never thought I would get to the stage where I’d have to put down a crying baby to walk away, but it’s happened twice in the space of a few days. Tall glass of cold water, punch a pillow… something. Then return, cuddle, rock, sing, jiggle, sway, babble… anything to stop the mind wandering into RAGE SHUT THE FUCK UP RAGEEEE territory. That’s not a nice thought.
We’re ok. They’re ok. I’ll probably be ok after another glass of wine.