This blog has nothing to do with the movie. I wouldn't do that to you.Before I start, I want to clarify that I intend to make somewhat of a left turn with this blog. Since its debut, I've mindfully taken one parental topic at a time (restaurant eating, losing sleep, going from one to two) but I am realizing that sooner or later I'll run out of topics to tackle. So the intent now is to use this blog space as somewhat of a daddy journal, detailing the daily struggles of raising children, rather than focusing on one topic per blog. That said, let's talk martyrdom.
This week started my family's new routine. The wife's maternity leave ended, which signaled not only the re-introduction of sleepless weeknights for yours truly, but also the absurdly over-confident belief that I can shower, iron my clothes, prepare my lunch, laugh at a YouTube video, cry at a YouTube video, sit and think of words that rhyme with "orange," be generally unproductive and eat a lazy breakfast while still managing to tend to the needs of two other totally helpless human beings (I include myself in that company). Nope, on Tuesday and Thursday nights, I now lay my clothes out, make my lunch and organize all the cargo into neat little piles (okay, Sonia does that) leaving only urination and teeth-brushing for the morning, if I even have time for that.
Of course, despite the fire being lit under my ass, I still slept through my alarm this morning, to the sounds of Nate stirring in his crib via the monitor on my night stand. I shot the covers off of me, bolted downstairs and dropped his bottle in the warmer. Now, I can't overemphasize how crucial the timing is here. If I bring him downstairs when the bottle hasn't been warmed up, I am facing at least ten minutes of red-faced hysteria, waking up Antonio in the process who will join the chorus of unhappiness with relative ease. The odd thing is, if I start heating the bottle without him seeing it, the hysteria is curbed for a few minutes, allowing me to change him without the guilt of feeling like I'm Casey Anthony. So this morning I managed to pull off the feat of doing just that. Then Antonio woke up at almost the exact time I needed him to before eating a light breakfast without even complaining, followed by a completely tearless, uneventful drop-off at the daycare center. Knowing how awful my luck usually is, I know the law of averages is bound to swiftly kick me in the ass next week and both my sons will refuse to eat while simultaneously shitting their pants right as I'm closing the garage door behind me. I mean, it just has to happen that way.
On top of the added stress of the two-kid daycare drop-offs (I'm still not sure how many of those should be hyphenated), the kids have been playing this other trick on me where they time it so that I'm putting them both down to sleep at night. I'm in Nate's room, as he sucks on the bottle nipple, drifting slowly into a deep sleep as I refresh Facebook for the 15th time. I hear Antonio climbing the stairs, slowly. It's like he knows I'm almost done. Then, the inevitable happens.
"He wants you," Sonia loudly whispers from behind the door. Fuck me.
Till next time, be strong and stay sane. And share my story with others, if you would be so kind!
-Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
My Podcast: www.courtesyflush.podomatic.com
Follow me on Twitter @JoeDeProspero
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