Do you remember when you were in school and you forgot your lunch? You’re sitting there watching all of the other kids eating… You’re even looking at the weird kid with the funky looking peanut butter sandwich thinking; ‘I would eat that through a straw with no hands’. Then one of your friends realises you haven’t eaten and asks “hey do you want this packet of chips” Your stomach is like “NOMNOMFUCKINGNOMNOMYES” and you look back up past their extended hand, into their eyes, begin to weep a little and say “No thanks i’m not hungry”….. what the fuck? Why am I too fucking proud for burger rings? So my mother in law says “i’ll look after the boys, you get up to the hospital and see Sarah”. Oh man… this was it… this was my moment…
…..I was in the shower faster than a Saturday morning hooker. I scrubbed that shit harder than a packed up meth lab. I annihalated every last memory of vomit, shit, dribble and snot like the cops were about to pull up. I threw my clothes on and brushed my teeth slowly whilst having the internal battle: to accept or decline. What if I say yes… does that make me her bitch? What if I say no… could we die? “I’ll just quickly clean the house and and hope you tell me to get out before I finish the rest of this sentence”
So there I was, driving her Bakery-Mobile (she owns bakeries) through a McDonalds drive-thru praying they wouldn’t force me to order a shitty McBreakfast. I stopped into coles to grab some trashy magazines and energy drinks. And then there’s my favourite part of grocery shopping. The part called, “don’t hand me your goods, please just pop them on the conveyer, allow them to travel slowly past the impatient fucker behind you who’s already constructed their ‘grocery mini-wall’ and give us all enough time to see what you’re buying so we can make internal judgements of you, your lifestyle and determine a potential year of death”. Well call me a Kardashian loving caffiene addict with eye bags and just hurry up and scan my shit!
I head home after a short stay, planning my night on the drive. The words “just plan your night now” are a chorus of motivation. You know when you get a pep talk, and you try to run before you can walk? Well Knox, throw out the noodles because daddy’s brought home a roast! So there I am, revitalized, rejuvinated, feeling great, ready to do battle… Knox would rather hang out with his Nanna and leaves me for a few hours leaving me with only Finn, looking up at me, incapable of conversation or the ablity to interact. He started smiling at me, I smiled back, he smiled more, I tickled his belly and goo-goo-gaa-gaad, he smiled more, I started playing peek-a-boo, he shit his pants… the smile isn’t love… it’s gas.
A walk should pass some time by and help him settle. So there we were, walking down the road, Finn in the carrier, got my head held high, people in cars looking at us, quick pic for the wifey, he falls asleep, dog walkers saying g’day, a few passer’s by ask to see him. It was a great feeling. I felt like a dad version of the Fonz… until he shits… he didn’t even wake up… I mean, who shits their pants and doesn’t even wake up?
The night was a lot better than the one before. The kids were settled, the roast was in, the house was warm. They ate, they bathed, they slept. I worked that routine like it was the opening fucking ceremony. It was actually amazing. It’s nothing that a bit of routine can’t help with. Which gave me time to write the previous post.
Earlier that day when I was talking to Sarah in hospital about the previous night and she said “I want you to write this down so you always remember just how hard it is”. It is hard, It’s really hard. I don’t know how single parents do it. I don’t understand why we as a society have these expectations of people. Maybe we don’t… maybe they’ve just got these expectations of themselves. The fact that I’m a man means nothing, the fact that my wife chose to sacrifice time from her very good job and take leave means nothing. Because no matter how much the world changes, it’s still quite traditional for one parent to stay home while the other parent works. It’s not gender specific, it’s not pigeon holing roles in the family, it’s not anything. It’s just really fucking practical.
I planned on writing this post last night but I took some of your advice and slept. I just slept and slept and took advantage of the time to regenerate whilse the boys slept. There has been so much support and positivity come out of my post which is really wonderful. Sarah is in pain but is coping well. She will be having surgery soon. She misses her boys and her boys miss her. Thank you for all the well wishes and I will make sure I get more of the actual DaDMuM experience into the next one.