Six Months In...
Time flies, doesn't it? Bash has been out of Swedie's belly already for six months. SIX MONTHS! I've been trying not to be the insane social media parent. So far we have zero albums on Facebook dedicated to him. That's an accomplishment. Then again I haven't made a Facebook album in forever. But still. I think I've done alright. I doubt anyone sees Bash and goes:
- Here we go again with this kid!
Like admittedly, I do sometimes. If you feel guilty, then you probably are. But I'm not judging those parents that think we care about the 18 pictures you took of your child finding her belly button. I actually understand now. Before being a parent, I thought it was insane. Now I know... it IS insane. We all are insane for our kids. I just happen to be more willing to hide my insanity. I think my kid is cuter than any other kid (Except for that one stupid little girl we saw at the hospital when Bash was one week old. How dare that little brat be cuter than my kid?! I've been pretending she doesn't exist with her perfect little afro and bright eyes.). Everything he does is cute to me. It's not right. I can tell already that he will one day be able to take advantage of said cuteness and I won't be able to do anything about it. This isn't good...
Swedie's been on maternity leave since giving birth. She has the whole parenting thing down to a science. She knows his different moods and tendencies. She has a schedule and everything. Though she's the resident expert, she still trusts me to do my part. I feed and change and all that jazz. I'm confident in my abilities. I honed my skills when my mother had a daycare back when I was in high school. I'm great with kids. However, I still get this rush of panic whenever that front door closes. It's like that dramatic camera zoom from scary movies on the front door as it slams. Just me, the dog... and... THE BABY. Before she leaves I try to get an estimate on how long I'll be swimming in the deep end.
- Did you say you were going to do just cardio today?
I hope to goodness that it's a yes. Then I can just hold him off. Just keep his little butt happy for about 45 minutes. He's a happy kid anyway. That's another thing. We got so lucky with Bash. He is one of the happiest kids ever (I'm insane, remember?). He just wants to be happy. He got a shot last week and I didn't see not one tear fall from his eyes. It was a Tuberculosis shot too. Took it like a champ. He seemed more bothered by the wrestling hold the doctor made me put him in before she stuck him. I was waiting for a referee to slide into the room and start counting! But this happiness works against me. When I come home from work, the house is always calm and Bash looks up ready to play with Daddy. It would suck if Swedie came home from a freaking one-hour workout and the baby was crying uncontrollably. She'd think I don't know what the hell I'm doing. So these short times alone are big for me. I have to perform. Gotta show Daddy's got what it takes.
I kind of have an entertainment schedule set up. It's like a workout circuit of fun. First, I play it cool until the door slam and horror movie zoom-in. Then I take deep breaths so my heart rate goes back to normal. Then I get some time in on the play mat. This holds his attention for at least 15 minutes. Then I do some fun but slightly dangerous game that I would never do in front of Swedie. Bash loves all of these death-defying games that I won't detail because I think Swedie reads this. Just know... it's awesome! Unfortunately it only takes up about five minutes because I don't want to get too crazy. Then there's the bouncing harness (hoppgungan). This thing is from heaven. Bash likes to be upright and this harness does that for him. It's attached to the door frame of his room and he has a blast when he's in it. He tries to walk and jump while the springs bounce him around. This is another 10-15 minutes. Then I put him in his walker. Sometimes I take all of the obstacles possible out of the way (rug, table, etc.) and the living room becomes a play room. The walker has all of the bells and whistles that holds kids' attention. Side note: When will the rotary dial phone contraption that makes that clicking sound be discontinued? There aren't even phones like that anymore! The walker buys me another 10-15 minutes.
That's my circuit of entertainment. It should keep Bash busy until Mommy gets home. But sometimes he gets hungry. And that's when Mother Nature laughs in my face. I can't pop a boob in his mouth like Swedie and feed him. I have to warm up frozen breast milk. Doing this while holding him (while he's not happy) makes me feel like maybe the dog is better fit for this. I don't have enough arms for this shit. Old McDonald doesn't have enough animals on his farm and I can't remember what a freaking horse says. Just play along with me, Bash! Everything is going to be alright. The eight minutes it takes to prepare the milk feels like an hour. My child is unable to feel empathy. He just wants some milk... I think.
Through trial and error I've learned that he will actually take his bottle if I sit him in his bassinet at a 45 degree angle facing the Miami Dolphins clock on the wall. Yes there is a Miami Dolphins clock on the wall as well as other memorabilia. I am grooming a fan. He stares at his clock as he eats/drinks (I still don't know what to call it) and all is well in the world. On most occasions, he starts getting sleepy. Just my luck. Whenever he finishes off the bottle I can burp and rock him and put him in his crib. If I time this just right, I'll have just enough time to put everything back in place in the living room, clean up the mess in the kitchen and put on a replay of the Dolphins beating the crap out of the Patriots just as Swedie walks in the door.
- Wow. You're home already?
I'm only six months in, but I'm learning. This isn't that hard. I'm good with kids. Until next time...