See the first day here.
Roman (14 months)
Ryan (32; tasked with single-handedly watching all the above for a week)
Hello Monday. While my job makes it easy to work from home, my kids do not.
I usually will work from home one day a week but that’s when Charity is here, making it feasible.
All that to say my mom is watching my dependents today so I can go into the office. This will be my first break from all of this… *gestures toward the entire situation*
The times are approximate, the feelings are not.
My alarm goes off at stupid-early o’clock because of this. I try using the fact that I’m watching the kids as an excuse to sleep in this week. I then turn off my alarm and get out of bed; stuff isn’t going to make itself.
I’m done writing. Everyone is still super unconscious. I take this opportunity to shower.
The girls wake up and stumble into my room. I hear Roman chatting with himself. Sounds like it could be a joke or something.
My mom shows up to take over the house. She is swarmed by all three kids.
Which was so adorable. Then I noticed that the hug they were giving her may have been one of those, thank-you-for-pulling-us-out-of-that-burning-building kind of hugs. There may have also been tears of relief. There may have also been pleading for her to never ever leave them. Not quite sure, as I was busy practicing my baton handoff.
After some instructions and quick tidying up—wanted my mom to see at least a resemblance of house maintenance—I handoff the baton with little hesitancy.
I grab the homemade birthday cards that I forgot to bring last night to the party, since I’m headed over there to pick up the diaper bag I’d left.
As I’m pulling out of the driveway the girls step onto the porch, both yelling, “Bye Dad, love you! Don’t forget to give our cards! And don’t forget the diaper bag!”
“Ok, love you guys.”
“Don’t forget dad! The cards and the diaper bag!”
“Ok. See ya guys.”
“Make sure you give the cards and then get the diaper bag Dad! Ok Dad?!?! Don’t forget the cards and the…”
As their little voices fade into the background of road noise I’m thinking, “Man, you only get one strike with those guys.”
I arrive at our friends’ house. I remember to give the cards and pick up the diaper bag. Still kicking myself for leaving it in the first place.
“You had one job.”
Yeah, well within that one job are a thousand little jobs, so maybe I don’t kick myself as hard.
Get to work. It’s quiet here.
Once again reflect on how quiet it is.
It is just super quiet.
This recurring thought continues every two minutes throughout the day.
Ran across this great quote.
“I’m really missing my kids today.”
— Said no dad-who-is-tasked-with-watching-his-three-kids-for-seven-days-and-finally-gets-a-break ever
Packing up at work, ready to go home.
Time to get into dad mode. During the drive I’ll recite the basic needs list I made.
Air, water, food, shelter…air, water, food, shelter…
Arrive at home to relieve my mom from her post. Usually everyone wakes up from nap around 4pm, so I’ve got a little more time to reorient.
But not today. I walk through the door and they are all staring at me like, “You’re back. I guess we’ll ask you for stuff now.”
The noise is back. My ear drums feel betrayed.
My mom leaves after a debriefing. She had cleaned our kitchen floors because let’s be honest, that was probably the caboose at the end of my priority train. And has been for months. Pretty sure she’d cleaned it with a rag like Cinderella; we don’t have a mop.
After the door shuts behind her I survey each and every one of our beautiful children’s faces.
I’m sure my mom just couldn’t see me chasing after her car, screaming for her to come back. Probably had a glare in her rearview mirror or something. It happens.
While I make snack I entertain the idea of putting everyone to bed at 4:30 pm.
Went for a walk.
It was nice enough outside to finally field test the new push tricycle contraption we got Roman for Christmas. It’s like a tricycle that you control with a handle behind him.
He dug it. Though the poor sap probably now thinks he has the power to move things with his mind.
Thought it’d be fun to race from light post to light post. And with a “On your marks, get set—” Violet jumps the gun running full blast. I can hear her cracking up, I join in the laughter, Nola does not. She begins screaming about the injustice of Violet’s unethical sportsmanship.
So we try to race again at the next set of poles. Same story. We try again. This time Nola jumps the gun on Violet, which sends Violet into a tailspin because it’s not fair. I explain to her the ridiculousness of her statement taking into account her previous actions, and then decided to ban racing from the rest of the walk.
After banning racing Nola chooses to complete most of the walk as some four legged animal. Naturally.
This really helped speed things along.
The kids want beans and tortillas again. I’m good at reheating that.
So I went with yesterday’s plan and removed Roman’s clothes. Which was again, brilliant, as this time he decided to go with a William Wallace war paint theme.
Braveheart. Nailed it.
Put everyone to bed after dinner.
Roman wakes up crying, which is unusual; sounded scared. So I go in and pick him up. I think he may have had his arm caught underneath him or something. I may or may not have told him to just stop crying like a baby, suck it up, and be man.
Don’t worry mom, I didn’t.
I calmed him down like a boss and laid him in his crib. He went right back to sleep.
Day four down.
Hurray for grandmothers. That is all.