It was such a strange sensation to get home late this evening to my empty house. The porch light on. Dogs insanely excited to see me. The house destroyed. Baby toys everywhere.
I immediately went to work picking up all the toys. They are now safely put away in the guest bedroom. I don’t know why I have a guest bedroom, but I do… I almost got teary putting them away. It is going to be strange to sleep in my bed again. After three nearly –consecutive nights of sleeping on the couch next to the pack-and-play where Gavin slept, I’m not sure how I’m going to feel. While I do have a whole new respect for mothers and fathers (both single and joined)—I felt dirty and sweaty the entire weekend and I’m so tired I think I’m getting sick—I discovered that I could do it. I could keep a baby safe and happy. I could make dinner for seven people with a one year old on one hip (only burnt my arm once—gonna be a good scar from the look of it). I could choose not to write, watch tv, go to the coffee shop, etc. etc. etc. so that he could have my attention. He started the weekend walking two or three steps and finished it walking twenty to thirty. Who’s a proud uncle? Granted, I know (I KNOW) that what I experienced this weekend wasn’t even an amuse bouche of parenting, but still. I truly expected I’d come away going, wow, so glad I’m and uncle instead of a father. Instead, I am leaving it feeling a touch like a father who just gave away his child. Who knew I could fall in love with that little boy even more. Shouldn’t even be possible.
I am excited to sleep, be clean, write, and just breathe tomorrow. However, I will miss him waking up so sad in the middle of the night and then sleeping on my chest as we both drift away. How his squeals of laughter washed away my self-consciousness at all the silly noises and actions I made. How his very presence turned off a part of my brain and heart that I never get solace from.
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago