Our own Dad-like Hell! |
I’ll keep this one brief because the past few days, my spare time is like my sex life: It doesn’t exist. And when it does, it consists of me panting for breath, wiping the sweat from my brow, and weeping silently. You see, my wife has been put on permanent bed rest until the baby is born, which essentially means I have to take care of her, my 3 year old son, as well as cook, clean, do laundry, and make daily visits to her doctor’s office. I don’t need to tell you that I’m failing miserably. Already, the laundry is beginning to pile into a giant amorphous beast. I think it has developed sentience. We need to keep the door locked to prevent it from absorbing my son. And I’m pretty sure it raided the fridge last night.
My Wife has it pretty bad too. I have to admit that. Her
body is serving up the eviction papers as we speak. My daughter will have to
vacate, because my wife has had enough: Back spasms, high blood pressure,
nausea, discomfort, pain, and about eighty more symptoms that she likes to
remind me of every… 2 minutes or so. I told her that’s how I feel when I go to the
gym. Now she has a sore fist to add to that list.
So there’s a high likelihood that I’ll have a daughter the
next time I post – that could be when she goes to college, at this rate. Maybe
I’ll get her to guest post. Hopefully she’ll settle down quickly, and her and
my son will keep each other entertained, and perhaps they’ll tire one another
out and sleep 16 hours a day, and my wife and I will have all the time in the
world to rekindle our pre-baby magic. I know this is just fantasy, and I’ll
spend most of the next three years in a sleepless fog of screaming kids and
shitty diapers. But a man can hope. After all, “once you choose hope,
anything’s possible.” Christopher Reeve said that… before he died… from severe
complications from his quadriplegia. Hmm…
I do want to point something out. I would happily murder the
person who coined the phrase “sleeps like a baby!” Babies don’t fucking sleep.
A baby’s sole, single solitary goal in life is to deprive his/her parents of as
much sleep as possible, while still managing to survive. It’s like a game of
Russian roulette for the wrinkly little Benjamin Buttons`. “Let’s try to drive our
parents to the point of insanity, without them abandoning us by jumping in
front of the nearest passing train!”
The problem is, it doesn’t end with the newborns. Tonight,
my son (whom I’ve spent every waking hour with over the past five days) decided
I’d misjudged his bedtime tonight. “Hey Dad,” I imagined him say, “it’s Saturday
night. Let’s stay up for two more hours.” Well, son… believe it or not, I had a
game on the DVR I wanted to watch. Maybe you should just go to sleep and climb
in to our bed around midnight, like you do… Every… Fucking… Night! Nope. It’s
10.30 now and the little Beelzebub has literally just fallen asleep 10 minutes
ago (To note: I began writing this post 12 hours ago).
So yeah… the uncle, or aunt (‘cause it wasn’t a Mommy, or
Daddy), who coined the phrase “sleeping like a baby” is more than welcome to
spend the evening putting my son to bed. Sleep like a baby? Yeah right! Should
be ”sleep like the parent’s of a baby… any fucking chance they get!!!”
You are so right about that phrase!
ReplyDeleteGood luck to you. I hope you make it through okay!
Screaming babies and shitty diapers...
ReplyDeletethat pretty much killed my sex drive. For forever.
Good luck, pops! My advice? Hire a nanny and go rent a hotel room for a week for you and your wife. Don't forget condoms. My guess is you don't want to undergo this right after you get through this. x
Your blog is excellent. Came over her from This is Mommyhood. Sleep deprivation----there's no way to describe it. Went through it myself, four, count 'em, FOUR times. Sheer hell.
ReplyDeleteLisa
Thank you so much, Lisa. Four? Wow! You have my eternal respect. You are a badass ha ha
Delete