Wow, Chloe is a year old! Where has the year gone? I can’t believe it’s been a whole year already. When Ellie’s first birthday came around, I was ready. I ready for her to be one. I was ready for the next step. Her first year did not go by fast and her birthday was as much of a celebration for us surviving it as it was for her becoming one. But for Chloe, just as this post is late, I’ve felt behind this whole year.
After a long night with Chloe, to say that I am less than eager to start the day in the morning is an understatement. You know, one of those nights where you pray for morning to arrive just so the night will be over. Those nights are the worst, and the mornings following those nights are equally as terrible. When you finally get your baby to fall asleep at 5:30am and your toddler bursts into your room at 6:30am brighter than sunshine saying, “daddy daddy! It’s morning!!!” the morning is the that last thing I want to see.
Dearly Beloved,
We are gathered here to celebrate the wonderful, yet short-lived duration of our dearly departed friend, Naptime.
If you are a regular reader, you’ve probably noticed I haven’t written much in awhile. It’s not that I don’t have anything going on or anything to say, I have plenty. I’ve just been struggling lately. Stuck. I’ve been feeling depressed and feeling lost. Lost my outlet. Lost my voice. Lost myself.
I know having and caring for children requires sacrifices. And it’s a sacrifice I welcome, but I also think it’s important for me, and my family, for me to maintain a sense of self. I am a father. A stay-at-home father, but that’s not all I am. I’m finding it’s really difficult trying to find that balance.
I love special days. Especially ones that celebrate me. Like birthdays. I don’t mind if you want to make a fuss over me, I won’t stop you. I might pretend I don’t want anything or a big deal made, but secretly I really do. I just don’t want to come out and say it. But since becoming a father, I’m finding I get a lot more excited for Father’s Day than I do my birthday.
For a birthday, all you need to do is be alive for another year to celebrate. Anyone can do that. But for Father’s Day, I feel like I earn my gift. All the diaper changes, meals cooked, baths given, stories read, forts built, art classes, story time, picnics, play dates, playground time, meltdowns soothed, being spit up and puked on, I deserve it.
For Father’s Day, I have no problem announcing exactly what I want. And as far as gifts go, I don’t have big wants. I’m just talking “I want to go to a brunch buffet and eat until it hurts,” or “I want to go out for ice cream!” I’m pretty simple. It’s really just food I want. But this year, I’m asking for something even more simple. All I really want is some peace. You know, when I “have to go.” Just a little privacy. A little poop in peace, or P.I.P. as I call it.
