7:35 AM: It's still peaceful here at Casa de Cheeky. By now Oodgie is munching pretzels and being subjected to either Take the Lead or The Benchwarmers as her in-flight movie. Me? I wait.
Since this is my first full day as a stay at home dad, I'm going to try to share the excitement as it happens; the thrills of victory, the agony of defeat. Assuming, of course, Cheeky doesn't juke me and get to the computer first. You'll know if it's her....she's the one who doesn't use vowels when she types.
Hark....the beast stirs. I must don my sheld and helmet. To be continued....
8:45 AM: Food everywhere. Except in Cheeky's stomach. The calls for Momma have begun. Where the hell is my coffee?
9:25 AM: Storm clouds are gathering outside. Seriously...the super-dark kind that the aliens use to mask their invasion. A sign? Perhaps. I should be safe...if anyone's got germs to protect us, it's kids.
Oodgie put together an owner's manual for Cheeky. According to paragraph 17, section 8, Cheeky should get tired around 10-10:15, at which time you put her down for a nap and take care of every potential personal hygeine issue you need to...it's your last chance all day. But the little kid petered out 5 minutes ago after a rousing game of Throw the Frog, and is now mumbling her way to sleep in her crib. Am I that exhaustingly fun?
No time to write...I smell like a homeless person, and if I don't shower now strangers will be spraying Febreze in my face by noon...
10:34 AM: Fresh as a daisy! This isn't so bad. I hear her stirring, but at least I got to read part of the paper. By the way--and I mean no offense to my Jewish friends out there--you can't tell me that this isn't "excessive force."
Now what the hell am I gonna do with her?
3:00 PM: So far so good. I'm having what I like to call PPD -- Proud Poppa Day. Cheeky has been great! It's ridiculous how effortlessly she charms people...a skill I wish I had in college on my excursions to Cremont all-girls dorm. But I digress...
We played in the park, where she simultaneously desparately desired and utterly feared playing in the fountain (which, in her defense, was the temperature of freshly melted glacier). At lunch she consumed about 100 KDDs (Ketchup Delivery Devices) and had a grand time trying (and failing) to get an ice cube into her mouth. Being the complete novice Dad I am, I forgot a bib, so she was wearing a delivery bag around her neck (which I highly recommend...worked like a charm).
Baby hygeine hasn't proven to be my strong suit, yet. When I put her down for her nap she had a ketchup streak under her neck that made her look like she'd lost a fight with a Columbian hit man. Her hands and feet are the color of coal miner's, and my little white trash baby has been crawling around in nothing but a diaper for the last hour. But we're having a great time so far.
Let's hope she doesn't wake up screeching like she's channeling Eddie Van Halen....
6:30 PM: I've got the touch! Pardon me while I pat myself on the back, rub my tummy, and roll back and forth on a bed covered with benjamins dollars pennies laundry. Cheeky's down for the night...a full hour earlier than normal. Went down without a peep, happy to the end. It's good to be the king.
It wasn't flawless, mind you. Cheeky woke up really cranky and upset, probably because of the enormous growler that was stuck up in her rectum ampulla. She cheered up a lot once that was out; she also smelled like a salmon hatchery. The storm finally broke open just after dinner, and she was less than enthusiastic about the thunderclaps that shook the windows. Minor issues, though, and since I electrocuted neither her nor myself I consider today a success.
One down, three to go. Let's check back in on Monday and see how I'm holding up...
You have my cell # should you find yourself in need of some assistance or some talking down off the ledge.
Posted by: Mr. Big Dubya | July 21, 2006 at 07:18 AM
Keep your chin up tiger, everything is going to be great.
Posted by: Peter | July 21, 2006 at 07:31 AM
If we don't hear from you by noon, we're sending in the SWAT team.
Posted by: Sheryl | July 21, 2006 at 10:29 AM
You could try this; when I first lost my job in Sept 2003 (starting a period of being a SAHD for 18 months) the twins were 16 months old.
I started leaving The West Wing on in the background while we played (it was that or The Wiggles and Barney on a constant loop - [shudder])
Now they're four and they love to sit on the couch with me and watch West Wing episodes. One of them is going to be a politican when they grow up.
Everything will be fine. Just remember; they smell fear.
And I agree with Sheryl, if we dont hear from you by noon your time, I'm calling in reinforcements.
Posted by: Kemp | July 21, 2006 at 10:46 AM
You're pathetic. I'm telling you....teach her how to play video games. I need an actual CHALLENGE when I come to visit.
Posted by: TheOtherC.Weber | July 21, 2006 at 12:06 PM
Take the girl to the park. Don't worry about sleeping times, as long as she naps and sleeps at night. Just take advantage of the time. She will tire out more with you, cause dad's play differently.
Posted by: Melissa | July 21, 2006 at 01:33 PM
I'm sending in the Master Cheif for backup. Those clouds outside are Covenant drop ships.
Posted by: WestCoastBrother2 | July 21, 2006 at 02:00 PM
Noggin is channel 298 on DirecTV.
Oh, okay. Real advice?
Dance parties are always fun, and the kid won't mind if you are a bad dancers. Mine prefer bad dancing.
Coloring is good, reading books, singing songs (especially ones with hand motions like "Itsy Bitsy Spider").
She's one? Peek a boo could keep her busy for 45 minutes.
Posted by: Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah | July 21, 2006 at 02:06 PM
Nice job, dad
CHEEKY IS BEAUTIFUL! Holy blue eyes, batman!
And- I bow down to your links (as always) the violin guy? what's it like in your head?
Posted by: kara | July 21, 2006 at 02:47 PM
You are doing a great job! I was going to suggest Noggin as well, but Sarah's on top of that. PBS Sprout is Channel 295 if she gets bored of Dora or you get creeped out by Oobi.
The picture of Cheeky is ADORABLE!
Posted by: misfithausfrau | July 21, 2006 at 02:55 PM
The first day is always the toughest, my friend. The secret to success is 50% perspiration and 50% inspiration. Judging by the looks of that delivery bag bib, I think you're going to be just fine. If you need a hand, give me a call!
Posted by: MetroDad | July 21, 2006 at 03:41 PM
I adore that picture. I hope no one from CPS sees it though.
Posted by: Melissa | July 21, 2006 at 04:27 PM
I'm loving that bib improvisation!
Posted by: landismom | July 21, 2006 at 05:39 PM
You're both welcome here for the weekend.
Posted by: WCG | July 21, 2006 at 07:42 PM
We drove through that storm today, it stunk. Glad all is going great. Remeber, we are in Plainview (not hiding but Plainview...right there).
Posted by: Arwen | July 21, 2006 at 08:36 PM
Good luck mi compadre. Monday will be here before you know it...
Since she's asleep, I suggest beer and videogames... always a nice tension reliever.
Posted by: Kemp | July 21, 2006 at 09:24 PM
You're doing a great job-especially the plastic bag thingy-who cares about that whole suffocation issue anyway-highly overrated! Love that foto-she is such a gem-labor intensive but fabulous-call for help if desperate-but I think you have it all down-and remember-she will recall this alone time with you forever-her analyst will help her over time -- say-twenty years or so?
Love and kisses to the kid-
ECG
Posted by: ecgram | July 22, 2006 at 09:53 AM