From: "Dream Cole" Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2001 15:36:24 -0500 Subject: xfc: NEW: Exhaustion - The Dream Series (PG) Source: xfc Title: Exhaustion Author: Dream Cole E-mail: dreamcole@hotmail.com Archive: Just let me know. Rating: PGish. Classifications: V, MSR (Okay, MSM), S Spoilers: None. But I'm ignoring any episode that said Scully could not have children. So you can say it didn't happen or there was some miracle between then and now. This is kind of a continuation of the Dream Series, although it is quite obvious what happened. If you are interested in reading the others in the series, please e-mail me and let me know. Summary: Read the title and guess what's going on. :-P Disclaimer: I don't own em. I'd like to, but I don't. Exhaustion You'd think that the terrible two's would start at age two, wouldn't you? That's what I had always believed. I mean, I had always hoped that Dream would simply bypass that stage but somewhere deep down I knew that wouldn't happen. Wishful thinking, I know, I know. Anyway, I'd always thought that the terrible two's would start at age two. And so far my daughter had been an angel. She started walking and talking a bit before anyone expected, a pleasant surprise. And she was starting to get the hang of toilet training, which was a relief for me as diapers weren't exactly my favorite part of parenting. So when we were entering the last month or so of Dream's 2nd year with us, I thought we were safe. And then it started. Dream's mother has never been dependant on me, and I've never been one to be dependant on anyone, so when my daughter started becoming independant I thought nothing of it. That is until it started to hurt. At first it was little things, really. She wanted to get her drink by herself. That's fine, she can do that, I don't mind. She wanted to pick out her own clothes. Okay, I can just make sure they match somewhat. She wanted to put her shoes on without help. That's fine, if she can handle wearing shoes on the wrong feet, I can handle being excluded. But when "no" became her favorite word, that's when I started getting frustrated. When she gave the stroller a bad look and stubbornly told us she would not get in it, I got annoyed. And when she refused to let me carry her, preferring to walk, my heart started to hurt. That's not to say I'm not proud of my child growing up, because I am. But suddenly she doesn't want me around anymore, I'm not good enough. She's a "big girl" now, which is fine and dandy, but I miss my baby. That little bundle of love that I brought home from the hospital. The face covered with mushed peas, laughing and flinging her spoon around. The little girl with the pigtails (yes she had the pigtails), running towards Daddy, excited to see her father back from work. Now she's happy to see me, but not as much as I'd like. She loves daycare now, so when her mother and I go to pick her up, she's reluctant to leave. And after a long hard day at work, I'm exhausted and just want to go home with my daughter in one arm and my lovely wife in the other. I want to eat dinner with my family and then settle around a book or a game. But noooo that's not how my life is. We arrive and we're exhausted. Scully goes and takes a nap, worn out from work, and Dream goes and stares at the TV, ordering me to "go 'way". Thanks a lot, love you too. The weekends aren't much better. My wife needs more sleep than I thought possible and lies around most of the time, dressing in sweats and avoiding makeup. Dream visits friends her age, reads her books (or rather, stares at the pictures) and, if I weren't keeping an eye on her, would spend her life in front of the television. Not that she watches junk, I get her to watch educational programs, I'll have you know. So today was one of those days where my lovely wife was taking a nap in our bedroom - her last coherant words being "get Dream to bed" - and my darling daughter was painting... on the walls. Who wants boring white walls when one can smear them with assorted colors from a paintbox?! Ask the parents? Of course not! I wonder if she realizes that WE are the ones in charge, not her. "Dream, sweetie? Mommy wants you to go take a nap, will you go lie down with her?" I ask cautiously, knowing the answer before the question is finished. "No," she says rather calmly, not even glancing up from her artistic abilities. "Dream?" "No, TANK YOU," she replies, remembering her manners. At least I brought her up to be well-mannered. It's the obedience part that we need to work on. "Baby, mommy and daddy need their sleep so why don't we all go lie down in the big bed?" She doesn't even bother to reply. I get tons of respect around here, can't you tell? I reach over and take the paintbrush from her hand and put it back in the box, cringing as the wails begin. Kids have the art of temper tantrums down - they know exactly how to cry so they're slightly annoying enough to get their way but just pathetic enough to earn sympathy. But I can't fall for that, I'm the Father and it is my duty to get this cranky kid to bed. I reach over and pick her up from the floor and place her under the covers in her bed. She struggles to get up but I'm two steps in front of her and gently push her so that she's lying down. I leave the room, remembering the first time I had to do this. Scully and I had read that we can't run to our baby every time she wakes up in the middle of the night, she needs to learn to put herself to sleep. So we stayed in our room, her in my arms, our hearts breaking as our daughter screamed bloody murder. When the cries finally subsided, we closed our eyes and tried to sleep. It doesn't get easier, nearly two years later. She's still crying, screaming and when I walk back into the room she turns her back to me, obviously unhappy with me. I lie down with my daughter and her sobs subside. She's still daddy's little girl and she lies in my arms and listens to the beating of my heart. She's forgiven me, I can tell by the way she's letting me hold her. Somehow the room goes fuzzy and everything goes quiet, save for the deep breathing of my sleeping child. I let the contentment of realizing that I was finally victorious in getting my child to sleep, before I lose consciousness myself. I'm awoken to the worried expression of my wife standing over me. The room has gotten dark, we've all slept for several hours. What a lazy bunch we are. I pry myself apart from my daughter and try to see if I can comfort her. "What's wrong sweetie?" I ask as she paces the floor, trying to make a dent in the carpet. I step in her way and hold her closely in a hug. She pulls away slightly, looks up at me and then blurts out her news before I can even wrap my mind around it: "I'm pregnant." THE END Author's note: I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this anymore so... lemme know and I might finish where I left off. This story has an implied "To Be Continued..." ending, with a question mark on the end, depending on if anyone cares or not. In other words: feedback is my friend!