Mr. Mom

Me and my big mouth.

A few months ago, my wife had to attend a Saturday teaching seminar, and I took care of the little girl while she was away. It was a breeze...but of course I shouldn't have told my wife that when she arrived home that evening.

"Piece of cake. And I managed to do the laundry, wash the dishes, give her a nap, tidy up, and we went to the park. It was awesome. One of the most memorable days of my life. I don't know why you're always complaining that it's so hard and exhausting. If I didn't have to work, I could do this every day."

Big mistake. Ever since, my wife has been trying to break me. I think that when she returns tomorrow morning she may smile with the satisfaction that she has finally done so.

See, last week I went out drinking (as chronicled in the Hungover Eye For the Drunk Guy post), and since then I knew that sooner or later I would have to pay up, so to speak.

When she came home from work on Friday she asked "you don't mind taking care of The 18th letter (not her real name) for the weekend, do you? I was planning to visit my family and some friends in Daejeon, so if, you know, you haven't made any plans..."

Hold on; that's not exactly right.

When she came home from work on Friday she told me "you're taking care of The 18th Letter (not her real name) this weekend. I'm going to visit my family and some friends in Daejeon. I don't care if you made plans. Remember last weekend?"

No problem, I thought. I've done it before, and I can do it again. It'll be fun.

Fast forward to the following morning, 7am. I'm comatose in bed, having just stayed up until 4 reading the Watchmen trade paperback for the umpteenth time. I'm awoken from my Mumraesque slumber, hearing the cries of the little girl. She's at the front door, feebly trying to put on her sneakers, umbrella in hand.

I pick her up, soothe her as best I can, and call my wife on her cell.

"What's up? Why did you leave without waking me up?"

"Well, I knew you had a late night, and I didn't want to disturb you."

"...You know...you could have...you should have...oh, forget it."

I poured some coffee and tried to snap back to reality. Tired as hell, I prepared breakfast (cereal, the staple breakfast for lazy fathers to make). When the little girl was finished, three hours later (joking), I didn't have a plan. It was raining, so going out was not really an option. But the princess was obstinate; she wanted to be entertained.

"Do you want to watch a movie? Star Wars?"

[Nods head]

Five minutes later...

Daddy, LEGO!

10 minutes later:

Daddy, puzzle!

2 minutes later:

Crayons!

15 minutes later:

TV!

15 seconds later:

Raffi!

Aside from the first time I smoked marijuana, time has never passed so slowly. By 11 o' clock I was like a boxer pummeled for 15 rounds. After lunch, a girl who lives downstairs knocked and asked if The 18th letter (you know the drill) could play. Sure, I said, just as long as you play here and keep it quiet.

God bless that girl. For 30 minutes they played, and it seemed like an eon. Then she was called home, and the little snowflake was once again mine to entertain.

When she's with my wife, her afternoon naps generally range between 1 and 3 hours. This one lasted roughly 45 minutes. Not good.

(I would be remiss to mention that she's recently toilet trained and the 300 or so times she told me she had to go pee -- 70% of which were false alarms.)

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur. I made dinner (if the FBI were to question me I wouldn't be able to say what it consisted of), played, played and played some more (one goal I did accomplish was giving the angel an obsessive compulsion for 'Star Wars,' so at least I got that going for me, which is good)...and when she finally fell asleep at 9:30 I was so tired I thought that perhaps it was for the best that I do the same.

But it was not to be. All work and no play makes Tiberious aka Sparkles a dull dad.

I stayed up until 1:30, watching 'Princess Mononoke' and playing Puzzle Bobble on the PC (thanks JB).

After a short stay in Slumberland, where the trees are leaved with slices of pizza and the grass is made of deep-fried cheese, the little angel woke up at 2:30.

Afraid of the shadows on the wall (seriously), she kept me up for another 2 hours. I finally fell asleep, but it was far from restful.

This morning, she woke up at 8. Nothing too dissimilar from the day prior occured -- except that she had to go to the toilet maybe 400 times, and she made some commendable bowel movements.

Chatting on-line with my mother (the only way I can convince the little girl to eat her meals is with the promise that she can talk on MSN with her grandmother afterwards), she noted that The 18th letter (*_*) looked as happy as she's ever seen her. A very small consolation, believe me.

I was as tired as a rubber wheel. I still am. Her afternoon nap today lasted only a half hour. To my very being I hope that she's as tired as I am, and that she'll sleep as soundly as a hibernating squirrel. But we both know that's not true. She's finally in bed, but I have the esteemed pleasure of going through it all over again tomorrow morning.

Wifey, you win. It's not as easy as I sometimes say it is.

On second thought, scratch that. I think I'm getting my second wind.

But I'm wise enough now to never admit it.