July 4th on a Wednesday. There should be a law that says, “If a holiday involving two of our country’s favorite pasttimes, drinking and fireworks, falls on a day that does not allow our citizens to sleep in after the next day, this it should be moved to accomodate such a time.“
Since no story-like words will adequately represent this blog like the bare hard facts will, I present them to you bare bones:
6:00 Oldest son up at butt-crack of dawn. Get him settled on the couch with juice and cartoons. Drink coffee, fetch things for eldest son…try to enjoy some quiet time on the porch while it’s still cool out.
7:45 I go to gym while wife stays home. Youngest son still sleeping.
8:45 Get home, pretty much same situation except youngest son just woke up (treat!)
9:15 Head out to meet local family at park for a morning of wild youngin’s and bagels. For them, this is breakfast. For us, it is a mid-morning snack.
11:30 Whew! It got hot. Coming home.
12:00 Wife takes computer desk (spare) over to youngest brother’s house as they just moved in and computer is on the floor due to now spare furniture.
12:30 I coax youngest son into a nap; playing trains with eldest.
2:30 Wife comes home after dropping off desk and grocery shopping for the “week from hell” (AKA: vacation at the beach with in-laws). Continued train playing. I also complain of not feeling well and being tired.
3:00 In an effort at sloughing off tiredness, go outside and chop wood for the oh-so-frigid Atlanta winters to come when the sun enters a significant cooling period (eat it global warmers!)
5:45 Start “surf n turf” dinner on grill (kabobs with skrimps and lobster tail) (p.s. it was not my best effort, but hard to grill beef and seafood on same grill and keep it all hot for serving)
AH, the real fun begins!
7:30 Youngest son ready for bed. Wife puts him down whilst I bathe eldest.
8:15 Eldest son watches some “Thomas the Tank Engine” (a nightly ritual…that or “The Wiggles“)
8:45 Wife and eldest son leave to go watch fireworks. I stay home with young one.
9:45 Both return elated. Eldest son goes to bed.
10:40 After listening to neighbor intermittently shoot off fireworks, finally go out shirtless, “Bill! How many more do you have?” Bill’s reply: “We’re done.” I mutter, “Goddang right you’re done a**hole.”
11:30 I just fell asleep when youngest son wakes up. Wife tends to him.
3:15 Youngest son wakes up again, I get up. Find he’s totally soaked head to toe in urine. Diaper is soaked, so is bed and clothes. Stick bottle in his mouth to keep him quiet while change him, then try and change bed sheets. Stupid crib bumpers tied in knots (all 18 of them, and it was NOT my doing). After successfully untying a few in the dark (because heaven forbid you turn the lights on and wake the baby up for sure!) I finally get out the scissors and cut the Goddang things. Know wife will be furious, but since this is the second child’s crib bumpers I’ll have done these to, don’t claim ignorance of my frustration.
Let me explain here for a second for those who think my actions a little “over the top.” When you put these crib bumbers in, you in effect, trap the mattress in the crib and the only way to get the mattress out, is by removing the bumpers. Now, you can remove the mattress without removing the bumpers, but believe me A) not in the dark and B) not without significant effort and swearing. I know they are supposed to keep little one’s feet and hands from getting trapped in the slats, but they also offer a suffocation hazard (so hah!).
I also have significant doubts as to whether or not a 4-month old could have that much pee from the 11:30 feeding. Suspect she just didn’t want to bother changing him. (Oh and…not the first time this has happened).
4:00 Lying in bed trying to go back to sleep and wife gets up to pump. WTF?!! You mean, I got up, tended to the baby, got all pissed off so that I can’t sleep, only to have her get up a couple of minutes later anyway to go pump? Now I’m really jazzed. The only thing that can possibly calm me down now, is watching Fox Mulder and Dana Scully investigate some psychic bad guys on late-night TV.
4:30 Bow to pressure and turn off TV. Don’t immediately fall alseep. When do, dream weird stuff about the curly haired kid from “That 70s Show” giving me a car. Very odd.
6:00 I hear “thump thump” and realize it’s past time to get up. Find oldest son wide awake despite having gone to bed later.
My day starts. And you wonder why I don’t look forward to weekends anymore.