Snow Day!!!

The snow came full blast yesterday evening, cranking up around 3 and continuing through the night.  They'd been calling for up to a foot, but usually in Virginia that means a dusting. But it dumped all night and this morning we woke up to a blanket of white enough to officially make today a snow day.

I did some shoveling this morning. I tried to get the car up the street and failed. Surrendering to a day at home with warm coffee and my favorite munchkin. The office was closed anyway. My boss said something about taking training classes from home, but uh, I forgot my password, my uh internet connection is down, the dog ate my laptop. 

Nope, instead we’re sledding.  A little anyway.  Simon doesn’t quite know what to make of it. He saw some snow during Christmas when we were up north, but he wasn't impressed. I think he was ready for some lunch and a nap. So now, with both wife and son napping, I’m left with a full day of snow and shoveling, and uh maybe some more sledding if I have time…because--wait, do you hear that?  A rumbling outside, almost like a growl. That harsh, scraping sound. Nooooooooo! 

 

 

 

Oh Poo...

“Hi, nice to meet you.” 

Shaking hands with one of the hot shots at work this morning, I suddenly remembered the hunk of poo on my index finger just hours ago. I still don't know what happened, the details are blurry. My son had a surprise waiting for me.  A surprise that was bursting at the seams. Hours upon turning 38 years old, I was screaming like a girl for my wife to come and help me with a very messy situation. Then I looked at my finger. Uh oh. You know that part in Home Alone, when the kid sets the spider on the bad guy’s face? That was my reaction. 

But that's how the day began. The morning was a whirl of tasks all pertaining to the 20lb ball of chub whose ear rattling shriek prevented me from oversleeping on the couch. Yes, the couch, on my birthday. I know, poor, poor, pitiful me… 

I was on the couch because our son was a beast last night. He’s teething, (or growing horns out of his head), and he won the battle of wills once again. We let him in the bed and between mother and baby, Dad became the odd man out. I tried the guest room, but couldn’t get comfortable. Somehow I ended up on the couch. I’m such a drama queen… But I’m not complaining. I can't complain. Our baby is well, and we are healthy. A bit tired but healthy.

Anyway, the important man released my hand and I waited for him to curl his lip or wrinkle his nose. But all was clear. Maybe that Bath and Body Works warm vanilla sugar soap works after all. That or the kerosene. Later, when I look in the mirror to find that I had forgotten to brush my hair, I saw the dribbles of white crust just under my collar. The little dude urped on me when I wasn’t looking. But at least this explains why people were clinging to the walls in passing and giving me that polite, but please don't kill me smile in the cafeteria.  And it explains why I have this nagging compulsion to wash my hands, again...

My Vacation...

I’m typing this while lounging in my pajamas at 8:45 on a Tuesday morning. I feel a hint of remorse for my wife, she has just left the house after a frantic early morning ritual of getting ready for work.   I woke up to her racket, crawling out of bed to find her rushing through her morning routine, debating which maternity shirt looked less like pajamas while hiking up the elastic waistband of her jeans.  Before my eyes had fully adjusted, she hurried off to school, leaving the house quiet and tranquil in her absence.   

As for me, I’m not sure when I’ll get dressed to actually begin my day.  At some point I will need to walk the dogs, but they seem completely content as of now, curled up sleeping peacefully in the quiet house.  After my wife left, I poured a bowl of cheerios, wearing an old pair of jogging pants and a wrinkled long sleeved shirt, running a hand through my unkempt hair.  So goes my life this week...

Due to the pregnancy, we have cancelled a trip to Jamaica along with the drive north to upstate New York for Christmas.  This left me with some unused vacation, and leaves me here, using up vacation days on this week of Thanksgiving, lounging around the house while writing blog posts and watching MadMen reruns in between jaunts with the dogs.  Yesterday, I piddled around the yard with the rake, but then I remembered.  I’m on vacation!  As an expectant father I had better enjoy this me time while I can.

I would like to say I could get used to this, but I’m already starting to—I can’t believe I’m typing this, miss work.  Not enough to go in on my own time mind you, but I miss the structure of my day.  I’m not sure I could stay home full time, not that it’s an option.  I'm sure a baby would keep me busy, but---oh, it looks like one of the dogs just woke up, time for a walk!  Life is tough for a stay at home dad...