In case I haven’t whined about it before (impossibru!) or if I have and it’s waaaaaay back in the archives of the blog which are organised and watched over by a small dead spider called Terrence who lives(?) in the corner of my writing room/creativity dungeon and I have to say is doing a TERRIBLE job of making everything findable! I am going to go ahead and re-iterate that I am for all intents and purposes a stay at home dad.
I DO work a few days a week in an impossibly unorganised and occasionally dangerous pit that boxes are thrown into, where my job entails putting 1000 boxes away into the space for 100 boxes to make way for another 1000 boxes to show up today; but other than that, I am neck deep in female “twonager” related shenanigans and “fun”.
And one of those fun activities that my little mini monster simply can’t get enough of at the moment (outside of the BBC kids series ‘Sarah & Duck’ which I’m certain is code for ‘Kid heroin’) is being fucking awake.
Not just regular awake, fucking awake.
Not ‘woke’ like those folks who are investing in cryptocurrency to fund their next holiday to the other side of the flat earth provided the lizard people don’t go putting more autism into vaccines and killing off all the ‘smart’ people, but just regular people awake. Except it’s fucking awake so it’s awake in turbo mode.
She is awake and dialled up to 11 from pre-dawn to post dusk and that’s what’s on my plate for most of the day until mum gets home at which point I become what I think is commonly referred to as ‘Chopped liver’ but in our house we call it ‘Anything that’s not Sarah and Duck.’
The weirdest thing is, the more tired she gets, the more hyper she becomes. Who gets more energy as they get less energy?! I’m thinking of selling her to the soviets to help crack the cold fusion formula for fucks sake.
But that’s ok because god created booze and coffee for just such a situation.
And thus is born the daily diet of the stay at home parent.
You guys shake your head at the ‘Wine mommies’ out there sure, but let me tell you, those bitches are doing good to be able to hack these tiny monsters on something with a measly 13% alcohol content.
All joking aside though she’s actually not that bad, plus there’s only one of her so if anything, I’m the one being a little bitch in this equation.
But the thing that’s getting to me as of lately, is that she has dropped the hallowed daily nap.
Now when I took on this job, I was promised two breaks a day, one in the morning and one at midday so I could spend one doing the important stuff like washing, cleaning, drying, putting away clothes, jerking off etc, and the second doing my stuff; reading, writing, playing videogames, jerking off etc.
It wasn’t a bad deal.
But then my morning break got taken away and I gotta say, it was hard to adapt. I had to cram all those other activities into one break but it was for about two hours so I got most of it done, usually though I had to drop off the ‘Me time’ things in favour of making the house look a tiny bit less like the fanciest hotel room in Chernobyl.
But now, now there are no breaks. There is no reprieve. My house is a round the clock wreck and every time I glance at a book the bookmark is ripped out of it, chewed, scrunched up and thrown at a cat.
So I started doing what any sane person would do in my situation.
I started getting up at 4:30 and either going to the gym or coming downstairs to either get on my spin bike or write.
Sure, I’ve had to up my daily coffee intake from somewhere in the range of ‘reasonable for a full time coffee taste tester’ to ‘Hey have you considered switching out sugar with meth’ but that’s just one of the pitfalls of choosing me time over sleep time.
And it could be argued that sleep time IS me time, but I’m not awake to enjoy it so, fuck that right?
As parents, it’s very difficult to juggle the 24 hours you get in a day to make sure that you give adequate time to your house, your job, your children and most importantly your spouse, but it’s also of exceptional importance to make sure time is made for you.
Looking after you, makes you better. And a better you is better for everyone.
Just keep in mind that what you’re working with here, time in relation to children, is as volatile a mix as a T-rex with the sneezes wrapped in TNT in the path of a tornado.
One teeny false move and you’re not only fucked, your house is fucked, you’re covered in mess and there’s a ringing in your ears for a week.
Not like you can prepare for it though.
The moral of the story is roll with the punches. I think.
All I know is that I’m sitting here now writing this (9pm) instead of early this morning because my own TNT-T-rex-Tornado beat me to the punch with wake up time due to being a bit sickly.
Shit happens though right, luckily I’ve been looking after me a bit recently so now I can look after her properly.
Screw you if you think that makes me selfish.