Dad Time

"Well spent" weekends take on a whole new meaning when you're a father. It's not that I don't still occasionally get out of work on a Friday afternoon and announce to the world while ripping off my tie that "IMMA GET TORE UP!", it's really just that the phrase means something a little different than it used to. Instead of being a portend to me slogging enough Ketel One to void the warranty on my rental liver, its now a dedication to myself. Indeed, you could call it a pact, to say that I will do whatever it is that I can do to absolutely destroy whatever vestiges of connective tissue may remain in my knee joints.

This is a two part process.

Step 1: Feed child breakfast.
Step 2: Attempt to go outside of your home.

Inevitably, at some point near the beginning of your adventure, the child will ask to be carried. This is understandable as evolution has cursed them with short, stubby legs better suited for kicking fathers in places that will reduce the possibilities of siblings than for actually getting them from place to place.

Carrying your kid, combined with breakfast, and the sack of lead-dust quick-crete she somehow managed to devour overnight is the perfect recipe for guaranteeing that you'll be using a walking cane at the ripe old age of 30.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here, and that's just the morning.

First, we'll set the scene.
On the weekends, I take over and become chief parent in charge. I do this for a few reasons.

First, doing the same job 24 hours a day, 7 days a week sucks. So I like to give my wife a break.

Second, it's important to spend dedicated time with your kids. Specifically, it's important to spend time with the kids that isn't all fun and games. It’s not fair for Mom to be the only person who says "no", and for Dad to be all Parks and Zoos. I'm sure there's a whole web community dedicated to the issues that come out of that kind of lack of balance.

Third, my wife is pregnant. And any human being that asks a pregnant woman to do something that they themselves are capable of will swiftly find themselves reduced to a steaming pile of ash, if they are lucky. Unlucky ones will only be able to wish for such a gloriously quick death.

So with this stuff in mind, Friday evening comes, and Dad takes over the household. In a smooth swift transition that third world governments can only dream of, my crack team of experts (read: me and my wife) decide on a plan for the weekend, and I become its enforcer.

Now, I say enforcer for a reason. I'm a bit more dedicated to schedules than my wife is. When I say "a bit" I really mean that I am a Drill Sergeant, who's only goal becomes getting what needs to be done, and done on time. Perhaps this is a male thing, perhaps instead it lies in my upbringing, or, more likely, it has to do with the fact that I don't stay home with the kid all day and therefore have the renewed energy and patience only achievable by one who is not exposed to someone who wanders around holding the bowl of her practice potty taking sips from it and calling it soup for 8 hours a day (though my co-workers may disagree).

So, when Dad is on duty, we follow the rules. The Schedule. The Plan.
The Plan is as follows;

8:00 AM : Wake.
8:02 AM : Brush teeth, brush child's teeth
8:04 AM : Downstairs for breakfast
8:05 AM - 8:35 AM : Prepare/Eat breakfast (preferably waffles, or maybe crepes with fresh cut fruit)
8:35 AM - 9:00 AM: Get dressed
9:00 AM - 11:00 AM: Errands (usually grocery shopping)
11:30 AM - 12:00 PM: Lunch, this must be timed precisely because of the next entry
12:00 PM - 2:00 PM: Naptime. The child will sleep during this period to refresh herself for the day.
2:00 PM - 2:30 PM: Break. This is where we warm up for the afternoon. Cool off for a while.
2:30 PM - 4:00 PM: Play at the park! I'm not heartless, the kid gets to go outside and play for a bit, get some fresh air.
4:00 PM - 4:15 PM: Snack time.
4:15 PM - 6:00 PM: Attend to afternoon errands if any remain. If not, calm play in the house.
6:00 PM - 6:30 PM: Prepare Dinner
6:30 PM - 7:30 PM: Eat dinner
7:30 PM - 8:00 PM: Cleanup, then calm play.
8:00 PM - 8:15 PM: Bedtime ritual, change diaper, brush teeth, read a book.
8:15 PM : Sleep until 8:00 AM Sunday, repeat.

This is Dad's day. Note that when Dad is in charge, no detail is left untended to.
When Dad is in charge, this shit is on the ball.

Now, with such a regimented day, it’s probably easy to imagine that things might go a little off course here and there. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The end result of the above schedule essentially boils down to the following:

6:30 AM: Kid wakes up screaming about the fact that she has a trail of poop from one end of the bed to the other. Honestly, I'd scream too. I change the diaper, and put her back to bed, maybe with a book or two to keep her entertained, so I can sleep till 8.

9:30 AM: Wake up, stagger to get the kid, who has since given up on her parents and gone back to sleep. Wake her up, talk about how awesome the park will be, especially the swings.

9:50 AM: Facebook

10:20 AM: Breakfast, I guess. (Cereal) Assure her that if she does well at breakfast, we'll spend extra time on the slide at the park!

10:50 AM: Oh hell we needed to run errands we still have time don't we quick get her dressed no she doesn't care if she wore it yesterday there are no stains on it its good lets go!

11:59 AM: Continued behavior such as crying and rubbing eyes indicates that child is hungry and exhausted, prompting parents to actually look at clock. Promise that it's going to be okay because after her nap we'll go to the park.

12:50 PM: Lunch, but oh God all the food we have is frozen or needs to be prepared.

1:30 PM: Lunch (Cereal) Assure her that if she does well at lunch, we'll spend extra time on the climbing wall at the park!

2:00 PM: Naptime

3:30 PM: Kid stops screaming and is now (probably) asleep, but you don't dare check on her because you might wake her up.

3:45 PM: she's up.

3:46 PM: maybe?

3:47 PM: yep she's up

3:57 PM: After a successful diaper change she is now sleeping peacefully at last thank God and all the Saints in Heaven above. Console yourself that some time at the park will make up for all of this.

5:00 PM: Wake from nap

6:10 PM: Kid wakes from nap.

6:11 PM: Facebook.

7:00 PM: Oh crap we forgot to get Groceries earlier and all that's in the fridge is potential half-meals, cursed by the laws of nature to live a dual, semi-life until their companion parts are brought to bear. But its cool we'll just pop over to the grocery store that's 5 minutes away, get what's on the list and come home, eat and put the kid to bed. Oh, and stop at the park for just a few minutes.

8:30 PM: Finish picking up Chick-Fil-A because it was the healthiest thing you could think of at the last minute that wouldn't take an hour to get ready.

8:45 PM: The kid has successfully eaten one grape, and now refuses to listen to the slightest indication that she should so much as put her tongue on her $6 chicken sandwich that you spent ten minutes and a half a pint of blood cutting into baby-bite sized chunks.

9:10 PM: Kid eats. (cereal)

9:30 PM: Bedtime ritual (all joking aside, this is the holy grail of the day. this stays the same if at all humanly possible)

2:30 AM: AW FUCK WE NEVER WENT TO THE PARK

So essentially what this boils down to is that I get a taste of not only what my Wife's day is like when I'm at work, but I also get a nifty taste of Humble Pie. When you're exhausted at the end of a day that's been utterly ruined by nothing in particular, and you climb into bed, in shambles and wracked with guilt for the things that left undone, there is one thing that should make it all worthwhile;

That special moment when you're putting your daughter to bed.

When you lay her down on her new toddler bed, whose sizable mattress makes the poor thing look minuscule and tiny and helpless, and she looks up at you in the room lit only by her nightlight, and you can see her huge, soulful eyes staring up at you.

Those pools of light that gaze upon you with the awe and reverence only the very young can have for their parents, that seem to say with every tiny breath of her body that you are the arbiter of all that is good in her world.

That despite the ravages of the day, she loves you implicitly, and trusts you more than any other human being alive to do what is right and necessary to protect her, and teach her, and help her, and keep her clean, healthy and happy. When she looks up at you and you understand that parents are the God for all children. And that everything she'll ever need she can entrust in you.

And she looks up at you,
and you look down at her.
And you say "Goodnight honey."
and she says "nite!"

And you look down at her,
And she looks up at you.
And you say "I love you..."
and she says "love 'oo!"

And she looks up at you,
and you look down at her.
And you kiss her on the forehead and say "My darling daughter"
and she says "Mom."