Friday, August 6, 2010
As I’ve noted many a time on the blog, Diana does 99.9999% of the child rearing in our family. Aside from the, at most, 1 hour in the morning when I look after the lads and the 2-3 hours I give her on the weekend, she is in charge. Which I’m sure directly results in the hilarious “pleases” and “thank yous” that come out of Elijah’s mouth.
I think she’d agree that the worst shift is the overnight. It’s certainly a lot better than the up-every-hour early days of both boys. But it’s always a crapshoot. Will they sleep through the night? Or will it be a never-ending loop of cries and poop?
To top it off, I’ve suddenly acquired the ability to sleep through anything. Time was, when the diaper hit the fan late at night, I’d wake up with the team and at least make a half-hearted attempt to pitch in.
But since my summer business hit, I’ve zonked right through even the most hysterical crying. By Diana. At most, I’ll open one eye to make sure Diana knows where the fire extinguisher is or groggily point to our box of silver bullets we keep on the nightstand.
Every morning I wake up refreshed and semi hung over and ask Di how it went. She’ll look at me like I’m nuts and say, “Didn’t you hear the werewolf smash through the window?” Or, “Didn’t you see me fight off that possessed tree a la ‘Poltergeist?’”
I’ll usually lie and say, “Oh yeah. I heard it. I just didn’t want to get in your way. You looked like you were having a really great time with the C.H.U.D (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller).”
p.s. I have no idea what today’s photo is about.