TV, Dusty Corners, and a Bloody Big Toe

I’m a true stay-at-home-dad again, and I’m trying to get back in my groove. Between two children, house cleaning, cooking, and writing, the days have been a little full. So what did I do today? I added Gymboree for Tilda to the list of things to do. Annie benefited both physically and socially from our weekly Gymboree dates and the guilt I feel over Tilda’s developmental learning curve was just too much to bear. The added bonus for Tilda is that today is a babysitter day and she gets me all to herself. She really deserves this. Granted, I love—I mean really love—to be alone, but she has never had the opportunity to experience the super stay-at-home-dad that I can be.

I know there are other parents at home with multiple children, so I have some questions for them. One, how do you keep your houses clean? My house is just getting by, what with the dog hair in the corners and the dishes in the sink. So how is it, exactly, that you aren’t embarrassed to have friends over? Two, how much do you look forward to your night on the couch with the Television? I know that it isn’t cool or progressive to love TV anymore, but in the tradition of Dolores Price, I worship at the altar of our television. I’m just too tired to pretend that I don’t. Take last night for instance. When I was making dinner and baby juggling, I was comforted by the idea that once bedtime was over I would be pacified by the stellar Tuesday night triple of House, Fringe, and Eli Stone. No matter what, they would be there for me and I could vegetate for a little while. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Thursday nights. I live for Grey’s Anatomy—I’m kidding, this life hasn’t softened me that much. But the thought of Alec Baldwin’s wry quips and a little Jim and Pam romance is enough to make me swoon.

I do have a some serious business today. Annie got her first real boo boo. She dropped a toy truck on her toe and bled enough to warrant a Band-Aid. I don’t count the time she got her black eye because she couldn’t see it. In the mind of a toddler that means it doesn’t exist. This little cut was very real, I’m sure she’ll be pointing to it all week. The black eye, fortunately, was forgotten about in an hour.