Our newborn son has decided that he will remain conscious and furious between the hours of 5pm and 10pm. There is no sleeping, or happiness allowed during this timeframe. It’s pretty sweet.
My wife and I are expected to provide constant entertainment (which of course, he must approve of) until he passes out from angry exhaustion. I believe some call this being “colicky”? I prefer speaking the truth and call it "having a bit of an attitude problem".
In his short 2 months of of existence, our little “boy-diva” has also developed quite the sense of humor, as he’s taken to puking on me PRIOR to eating. Very unusual behavior indeed.
I say all this because, last night my wife had gone out with a friend, and lucky for me, I got to stay home and relax with the kids.
The evening was off to a great start. Heather got the little one down for a snooze prior to exiting the house. I throw a party in my mind.
2 minutes after she drives away to enjoy her leisure time; senior grumpy pants wakes up starving and enraged.
“Showtime!” the child’s puppet thinks to himself
Out come my jazz hands and I begin doing my little dance.
I hold him. I sing. I swing him.
I see he’s amused watching me squirm, but alas, he does not approve, and so he expresses his displeasure by projectile vomiting down my shirt. Apparently I deserved that.
All of these good times were occurring whilst I was simultaneously trying to get my oldest son to do his homework.
You would think that printing 5 words wouldn’t be that much to ask, but you would be wrong. Unfortunately, picking up a pencil and scribbling letters on a piece of paper is considered torture by 6-year-old.
2 hours later, homework time is over. Baby “screams a lot” has surrendered and I’m off to bed.
For a few hours, I dream of simpler times.
And then, much too quickly, 4 am cuddle time arrives.
“Cuddle time” are the several minutes in which the inappropriately affectionate cat has picked to show me (daily) how much he cares. I just love this.
I get up and begin my morning routine of drinking coffee, and uttering profanities.
A few more hours go by and then off to work I go. I spend the next 10 minutes driving in a sleep deprived haze. I stop at the local Timmies to grab my 6th coffee of the morning.
As I’m driving away, I somehow lose my grip (most likely because I’m asleep at the wheel), and drop the scolding hot coffee on my lap.
I instantly learn something new: Burning your genitals will wake you up quicker than drinking 6 cups of coffee.
I arrive to work looking urine soaked. I head straight to the washroom to clean myself up, very pleased to attend a meeting 5 minutes later.
And so, this has been a recap of the last several hours my life has provided.
I’m not sure it can get better, but I’m here waiting to see what the future holds.