Fudge man, working till 11 p.m., having to get up at around 8 to look after the kids (not a terrible time to have to wake up, granted), and then going back in at 2 the next day,
...
Let me just say this: I want a 9 to 5. A steady schedule. I mean, I've got a steady schedule now, meaning it's the same from week to week because my boss has been cool like that, but with the kids every day, and the trying to find a job related to my communication degree, and doing this social media volunteer gig, it's tough.
I'm sure there are lots of parents out there who've got similar or even shittier schedules. Is anyone else reading this a stay-at-home parent, and if so, do you have a PT job? What is it and what are the hours? I'm purely curious.
Also, I like my job. My coworkers are all cool, and this is one of the first times I can say that. I like everyone I work with, and going to work doesn't seem like a chore. It's nice, in fact, to be able to get out of the house.
Sometimes at the end of mom's work shifts (my kid shifts), I just don't have it in me to be a great dad anymore. It's trying, because they only want me to be happy, but they're still kids, still acting on impulse rather than with a mind to people's limits for things like noise, the occasional rude-but-didn't-mean-to-be-rude question, or one they already know the answer to. Kids just like to talk, right? They're excited about it, and they want to share it with you. But after a full day of it I not only don't want to have to talk to kids anymore, I don't even want adult conversation. I just need me time. My male solitude, ya know? Superman's fortress of ice.
A few days ago, for example (and this is a rare occurrence, mind you), mama came home, and I was kind of in a funk and couldn't place why. I knew I didn't want to be acting negative in front of my three ladies, but I was having a hard time being positive. Usually in these cases I just shut down and lay on the couch and play a video game.
So Megan comes home from work, and bless her, she vacuumed the kids' room. While that was going on, Beatrix, my yesterday-turned-3-year-old and younger of two daughters, sat next to me on the couch, and started to read "The Pingu Book," which is actually a kaleidoscope book. Lucy, the older of the two, started this trend, and it's really fucking cute. They essentially make up their own story about Pingu, this ... Swedish claymation penguin show for kids. And they only do it to the kaleidoscope book.
As BB's reading to me, I'm just kind of curled up in a ball, facing her, one knee up which my face is kind of resting on. I'm in almost a fetal position. I wanted her to leave me alone, but how could I tell her that? What she was doing was really good for her, as far as just practicing language and being creative and telling a story. But her story is completely non-sensical, you know? It's the ramblings of a 3-year-old. There's no insight to be had there.
Mama was vacuuming, so BB probably didn't want to go over to where the noise was. I just sat there, wishing it would end, but not knowing how to say it. And I could tell BB picked up on it, just a touch, but she just kept going.
Mama turns off the vacuum, comes out and rubs me on the shoulder, and I couldn't even look up. I said, "I just," and then trailed off, thinking better of saying what I was gonna say, and then I said, "Can you take BB away from me?"
So she did. BB seemed happy to go, cause mom held the promise of a better-mooded parent, with that certain feminine positivity that I have a hard time maintaining. She's such a good mom. Always patient with the kids even when they're misbehaving. She's got such a shitton of love in her, and I'm a lucky guy, and that's right Megan, I know you're reading this. You're probably my most faithful reader.
Remind me to tell you guys about something I was thinking today, a memory of something shitty and embarrassing I did to my mother. I must have been about ten, but I'm gonna stop typing now and drink the rest of my beer, eat my second cookie, and try to sleep.
Oh yeah, and remind me also to talk about my career search as of late, and what we did for BB's birthday yesterday.
Peace I'm out.
...
Let me just say this: I want a 9 to 5. A steady schedule. I mean, I've got a steady schedule now, meaning it's the same from week to week because my boss has been cool like that, but with the kids every day, and the trying to find a job related to my communication degree, and doing this social media volunteer gig, it's tough.
I'm sure there are lots of parents out there who've got similar or even shittier schedules. Is anyone else reading this a stay-at-home parent, and if so, do you have a PT job? What is it and what are the hours? I'm purely curious.
Also, I like my job. My coworkers are all cool, and this is one of the first times I can say that. I like everyone I work with, and going to work doesn't seem like a chore. It's nice, in fact, to be able to get out of the house.
Sometimes at the end of mom's work shifts (my kid shifts), I just don't have it in me to be a great dad anymore. It's trying, because they only want me to be happy, but they're still kids, still acting on impulse rather than with a mind to people's limits for things like noise, the occasional rude-but-didn't-mean-to-be-rude question, or one they already know the answer to. Kids just like to talk, right? They're excited about it, and they want to share it with you. But after a full day of it I not only don't want to have to talk to kids anymore, I don't even want adult conversation. I just need me time. My male solitude, ya know? Superman's fortress of ice.
A few days ago, for example (and this is a rare occurrence, mind you), mama came home, and I was kind of in a funk and couldn't place why. I knew I didn't want to be acting negative in front of my three ladies, but I was having a hard time being positive. Usually in these cases I just shut down and lay on the couch and play a video game.
So Megan comes home from work, and bless her, she vacuumed the kids' room. While that was going on, Beatrix, my yesterday-turned-3-year-old and younger of two daughters, sat next to me on the couch, and started to read "The Pingu Book," which is actually a kaleidoscope book. Lucy, the older of the two, started this trend, and it's really fucking cute. They essentially make up their own story about Pingu, this ... Swedish claymation penguin show for kids. And they only do it to the kaleidoscope book.
As BB's reading to me, I'm just kind of curled up in a ball, facing her, one knee up which my face is kind of resting on. I'm in almost a fetal position. I wanted her to leave me alone, but how could I tell her that? What she was doing was really good for her, as far as just practicing language and being creative and telling a story. But her story is completely non-sensical, you know? It's the ramblings of a 3-year-old. There's no insight to be had there.
Mama was vacuuming, so BB probably didn't want to go over to where the noise was. I just sat there, wishing it would end, but not knowing how to say it. And I could tell BB picked up on it, just a touch, but she just kept going.
Mama turns off the vacuum, comes out and rubs me on the shoulder, and I couldn't even look up. I said, "I just," and then trailed off, thinking better of saying what I was gonna say, and then I said, "Can you take BB away from me?"
So she did. BB seemed happy to go, cause mom held the promise of a better-mooded parent, with that certain feminine positivity that I have a hard time maintaining. She's such a good mom. Always patient with the kids even when they're misbehaving. She's got such a shitton of love in her, and I'm a lucky guy, and that's right Megan, I know you're reading this. You're probably my most faithful reader.
Remind me to tell you guys about something I was thinking today, a memory of something shitty and embarrassing I did to my mother. I must have been about ten, but I'm gonna stop typing now and drink the rest of my beer, eat my second cookie, and try to sleep.
Oh yeah, and remind me also to talk about my career search as of late, and what we did for BB's birthday yesterday.
Peace I'm out.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I encourage comments from any and all readers. Please lay your thoughts on me.