On Call

Mondays are my night for sport.

My repose

My one chance to get out

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Routine

Do remember the routine?

I’m trying to. I think we had one once upon a time. But it seems like eons ago, something way beyond sleep depraved memory.

I think it went like this: read a book with mommy, cuddle with daddy, snuggles in with her blanket and baby doll, daddy exits room, mommy and daddy have some quiet time before bed.

I think that’s what it was like

Once upon a time

Before…

Before we had a baby

A baby with no biological clock

A baby whose digestive system is realigning itself.

I can’t fault the kid, he’s in pain.

You see the strain

Cramp, cramp

Face pulled tight

Beat red

Moan, moan, whine and

BLAST out the back end.

Quiet…for a few minutes

Repeat, this time with uncontrollable screams.

He’s tired,

He wants to sleep too

Before a two and a half year old

A two and a half year old who needs extra attention.

Before two kids who suck up every single breathing moment

Leaving you panting for just five minutes

Sport

The act of physical movement, increasing metabolism, building muscle, breaking down fat.

This is a foreign concept.

The spare tire is growing.

One notch further on the belt

10 hour work days

2 hours in a car

Once home, dinner, bed time routine, crash

I don’t move

It’s dark out when I leave work

No more garden work

Oh yeah I got little kids,

Scratch that, don’t think about garden work or working on the house.

No physical work, at a desk all day, in a car

I feel like a fat flabby slob

The love handles have extra large grips

For what? There’s no time for love

Monday Night

Monday is my night

My reprose

My one chance for some kind of movement.

Two hours of running and jumping.

It gets my blood pumping.

At least I get a night. The kid is attached to Mommy’s breast. She doesn’t get a break. The only sport type movement she gets is pushing the stroller and doing curls with both kids in her arms.

The evening starts with a wound up older sister. Turns out she had an extra long nap.

She doesn’t want to go to bed. She’s not tired. She’s bouncing off the walls. Lights on, lights off, cuddle with daddy, back in bed, cuddle with daddy, back in bed, lights on, lights off.

Doesn’t she realize I need to go to volleyball? Patience, she needs you to be there.

She’s playing with her damn hippo night light, totally ignoring me. But I gotta be there. I twitch a muscle, she asks where I’m going.

Finally she’s quiet, I’m allowed to leave the room.

All’s quiet down below. I ask mom if she thinks its okay for me to go to volleyball. Crazed deer in headlights look returns my gaze.

“You’ll come back if I call?”

“Of course” I say “I’ll take my phone with me. Don’t give me that look, all is quiet here. Be a little more positive”

To which she retorts, “I’ve stopped being positive. There are no quiet nights”

45 minutes later as I get the ball to serve, my phone rings. A faint voice on the other end asks if I can come home.

5 minutes later I enter a quiet house. This doesn’t seem right. I make my way upstairs to see a bright and bushy 2.5 year old, a zombie mommy and comatose baby sitting in the bean bag chair.

“He’s been screaming at the top of is lungs for 30 minutes. He disturbed Stella. He only quieted down 2 minutes ago.”

Daddy takes Emmett to give mommy a break but to no avail, he’s gotta eat. I take my turn upstairs in sister’s room. I have to stay!

I stink

I try to ignore it

She buries her head in my arm

The stench will most surely make her pass out.

It seams to enliven her.

Daddy drifts in an out. Some time later daddy wakes up, he desperately needs a shower.

As soon as he moves a head pops up. “where’ you going?”

“Daddy has to shower, you can hear me shower through the wall. When I am done, I’ll get my blanket and come back. I promise” “you need to lay down I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Daddy exits a dark and quiet room to de-stink. Upon returning he finds his daughter with all the lights on, bouncing (or should I say taking flying leaps) in her bean bag chair looking at her books. She turns in great surprise and greets me with a big smile.

It’s flippin 11pm. My alarm goes of in 6 hours. “child, you gotta be tired!”

“Neeeeiiiiinnn!”is her reply.

“We’ll it’s lights out, we’re going to bed.” Through sniffles and bouncing from bed to bed, we drift off to sleep until the beep beep beep of my alarm at 5am.