Stolen Time

There is nothing quite so sweet as stolen time.

For over a month and a half I have been a full-time father to my six month old son. He's teething, and got a cold recently, and hates to nap. During the day if he can help it he won't sleep more than an hour or two total. He gets up at 7:00am at the latest. During our time together I have developed (discovered?) the methods to get him to sleep at night: lots of food, fresh diaper, low light, and steady white background noise. My rocking and shooshing techniques have the subtlety and practiced skill of many hours of practice. I can almost calm from across the room if he fusses in the middle of the night. I'm getting pretty damn good at running errands on my own with the little guy, to the point where I look forward to taking him out and about daily.

But I need a break, once in a while. Kasey is the breadwinner and works about forty hours a week. She sleeps while I get up with him, feed him, entertain him, make sure he doesn't gum our shoes or eat power cords. I do the daily cleaning with my no doubt larger left arm full of little Jonas. I'd love to see scientific data supporting this, but I think my sway back actually saves me a lot of back pain since it's already curved inward more than normal. I get tired. Espresso helps.

So we visit Grandma Sheila a lot. It helps that she lives so close now. We can walk there, him hanging from the front of me in a baby carrier, in less than four minutes. We go over there and watch TV and I eat popcorn and M&Ms and still feed him and help change him. It's a small rest, but not much. So I relish the rare occasions I can bring myself to drop him off there, like today.

I came home and took some very personal time, reading in the room my father did most of his in while I was growing up. I browsed the Internet, uploaded some pics of my son, chatted with friends online. I finished watching a documentary on people who live out in the badlands of New Mexico without power, plumbing, etc. It's so hard to do anything straight through with an infant.

Less than two hours in I get a text from his grandmother stating only, "getting tired". I reply that I'll be there shortly. "Shortly" is wonderfully vague. That was thirty minutes ago. In another thirty I'll probably leave. I had just started up the hookah and a movie I've been wanting to watch for years. It's questionable, but I need some time. Just a little more time.

I know previous posts and tweets have expressed mostly annoyance and frustration, but I do love the little shit. He's so pretty. He loves me too, I can see it. He trusts me, he looks for me. He gets a little sad when I leave, as sad as the attention span of a six month old allows, I guess. I miss him already and it's been only two and a half hours. Fifteen minutes and I'll leave. Maybe I'll get another double espresso.

I wish it could stay like this. My job could be my family, my home. Cleaning up after my pets and cooking. I'll be a disheveled housewife, gladly. My hair, falling out of it's tie, already looks the part. I've been reading, catching up on rented movies, walking. It's really quite enjoyable. I take this as a sign of end times for my unemployment, however. Just as I'm getting it down. Ten minutes to go. Five after proofreading.

Maybe I should start playing the lotto. But Vegas wasn't built on winners, as my dad said once.

- David

Let's Go

Let's Go, originally uploaded by BodhiDave.

Six of one or half-dozen of the other new pics of the Jonas. He's six months old now and his first tooth is creeping out of his bottom gum in the front. Too cute!

- David

X-Mas Tyme

Sooo, Christmas and my birthday are coming up here pretty soon. I'm older and had to borrow money from family members because 1) I got let go and 2) HP apparently had a major problem getting paychecks out so I still haven't received my last paycheck and as a result my wishlist is pretty small this year. There's like five things, and it's all crap I'd use on a daily basis.

So there you go. My guilt has been slowly building year by year and I swear, I SWEAR, this year that pictures and Christmas cards are going out to peeps.

Take care, be merry and bright.

- David