The Fall Of The House Of Dad Solo

This place has been a sick ward for so many days now that I've lost count. So much cold and flu medicine has been consumed around here lately that I'm worried about driving, lest I get pulled over and fail a DUI test. Ghosts of Black Plague victims have been walking our hallway, occasionally asking if we're "ready to go now." We've been so sick -- How sick have you been? -- that vultures are perched on the back fence, wearing bibs and scanning a wine list. I mean, we've been sick.

And, in a plot twist that should surprise no one, it seems that NJ brought it home from day care. She ran a fever of varying degrees for four consecutive days and had a bad cough, too (not to mention a molar coming in at the same time). I've been congested and had a sore throat and wicked cough. The Wife has had all the above and was hit the hardest, and became so desperate she sent me out yesterday to buy a neti pot . Thankfully for the child, she was already asleep last night when her mother used the pot for the first time.

Things have been so bad that The Wife had to abruptly shut down production of an adorable toddler video:

Worst cameo ever.

NJ recovered first (see above) and seems well and good now, but Man! there were some rough days. The difference between a sunny, delightful NJ who wants to walk and climb and explore and talk and a dour, cranky NJ who wails if you look at her wrong is so vast there aren't any metaphors to capture its essence. Me? I'm mostly OK, too (other than a tick in my throat). The Wife is still dragging, but hopefully the worst is behind her.

"This Single Parenting Is HARD!"

On the last day of my last Super Solo stretch with NJ, I was IMing with a co-worker, B, and complaining about getting up so early that day. I was thinking about the past three days and all the work I put into them, but at this point in our text conversation I had only mentioned that day's waking hour, then followed with "this single parenting is HARD!"

B, who has a daughter in college and a son in high school, responded: "laughing"

Well, yeah, I thought as I saw that she was typing more, I am pretty funny! Then she followed up with a short story about her friend who left town with one of their kids and left the other with her husband. B offered to help out, and her friend replied, "Oh, one is nothing."

"if you had 2 you could do this in yr sleep"

Ah. Not laughing with me, but at me. Got it.

So yes, perhaps I'm a little bit of a wuss for complaining about juggling a job, day care and a 13-month-old kid for THREE WHOLE DAYS. But I have no frame of reference for multiple children -- this is all I know, and all I will know. So I will lay out my experiences here and you feel free to snicker away. I've had a taste of single parenthood, and to me it looks like a pretty tough gig.

NJ's health. Her smoker's cough roared back with a vengeance the first night The Wife was gone. Exactly four minutes after I switched off the television and double-checked the alarm clock, she started hacking up a lung downstairs (Note to self: The baby monitor doesn't have to be set at maximum volume.) I booked downstairs and rocked her for a while, and after singing about half of the "Born to Run" album to her, all was well and she was nodding off again, cough-free.

NJ's sleep. The little girl who sleeps like a lamb and never has night issues, the one who was the envy of all the other parents we know, is gone and did not leave a forwarding address. Putting NJ down used to mean a kiss on the forehead, handing her one of the eleven stuffed animals, and leaving the room. But or the past few weeks, no matter how tired she is, putting her down is immediately followed by her rolling over, crawling to the side of the crib, standing up and shout-crying. A rocking-to-sleep session is now mandatory -- again, the Springsteen songbook was invaluable -- and middle-of-the-night wake-ups are common (although they usually don't happen after midnight, huzzah).

My sleep. The Wife gets up before I do and takes care of NJ in the mornings -- because she gets up earlier than I do anyway, and also so she can spend as much time as possible with her daughter before leaving for the office. So getting up early was a change, and a challenge -- particularly when I couldn't manage to fall asleep early at night to compensate. I ended up doubling my coffee intake, and anyone who knows me and the strength and amount of coffee I like knows that is a big deal. My innards are still reeling.

My job. It was a lot easier back when I was at home. The Wife would leave, but my day was already tailored to fit NJ's, so the adjustment ended up being not all that huge a deal. And hey, her nap time was my nap time if need be. Now, I've got a big chunk of work in the middle of taking care of NJ, so I'm expected to be sharp and active and alert and not napping or doing other mentally unchallenging things like building tall stacks of blocks and knocking them down. Add to that the sleep issues above and it wasn't pretty.

My time. I had none! Well, check that: From 8.30 p.m. to whenever I could manage to fall asleep, that was Dad Solo Time. The morning was all about NJ. The day was all about the job. The evening was all about NJ. Once she was in bed, I cleaned up her various messes, packed her next day's lunch, and performed a couple dozen similar tasks before I could sit down with a free mind. And then I was too tired to do anything except go to bed (and then fail to go to sleep). Oh, there was the one evening I worked late: Woo-hoo! I had no opportunities whatsoever to sit and stare at the wall, or inspect the hairs on my forearms. No Me Time at all.

NJ's whining. Still rocking her cold -- or, more likely, rocking a brand new cold -- and not napping long enough at day care, most evenings NJ was as whiny as I am in this blog post. As described here -- I used the phrase "a little irritable" to be polite to the kid. She turned it on and off like a spigot.

Oh, for crying out loud. Don't make me break out the world's smallest violin.

This is all a long-winded way of getting around to a shout-out to all the single parents out there. I don't know many, actually, but the couple I do know are raising beautiful, smart kids. To the previously untrained eye it looked pretty effortless. It was impressive enough then, but now that I've had some first-hand experience with it, I'm in awe. Kudos!

Also: The calendar tells me that today is the 70th birthday of the World's Greatest Househusband. Happy birthday, John. I haven't baked bread with my kid yet, but she's only 1 year old. Hopefully, there's time for that.

(In his last interview, Lennon said: 'I don't believe in yesterday. Life begins at 40, or so they promise. And I believe in what's going to come." Three weeks later he was assassinated. So maybe "Hopefully, there's time for that" is exactly the wrong message to be taking from the whole thing.)

Super Solo Redux

The Wife leaves for a road trip in a couple of days, the first of three in the next five weeks. My loyal readers know that I've aced past Super Solo assignments with trumpets wailing and colors flying and everything short of Padma Lakshmi smiling warmly and murmuring, "Congratulations, you are the Top Dad." This go-around should be just as smooth, hopefully, but it'll be a little different because of some new factors:

The Sick
NJ is winding up her first prolonged illness. Her day care cold is mostly gone, except for what sounds like a brutal cough that crops up from time to time. One of those times is around 2.30 a.m., after she's been laying horizontal for a long time. Hopefully we won't hear that number on our baby monitor in the wee hours this morning, and by Wednesday -- when The Wife hits the road -- it should all be over. (Including the diarrhea. Please, sweet little baby Jesus, let that include the diarrhea.)

The Day Care
I've yet to drop NJ off at day care. It's no big thing, obviously, but there is something of a routine that I'll need to know. What if, for example, I walk into the play area with my shoes still on? Heaven forefend! Or I fail to sign in in the morning, or out in the afternoon when I take her away? (OK, that one is important.) There's also all the stuff I need to take in with us -- the diapers, the blanket, the packed lunch. Yeah, that packed lunch: I'll have to pay attention tomorrow evening when The Wife puts it together. All I really know now is that when I load the dishwasher, there are about 47 tiny bowls, lids and other Tupperware-like objects.

The Job
There's an office reasonably close to NJ's day care I can go to after dropping her off (since I'll be more than halfway there anyway). And: going to an office means incentive to shower, something all work-at-homers need.

The Standing
Nothing to do with The Wife leaving town, but I thought I'd bury the lead because it's my blog and there are no editors clamoring for a rewrite. NJ's interest in and ability to stand has increased ten-fold since starting day care. She stands up from her knees or from her butt with ease, hangs on to the coffee table or sofa edge with one hand while waving a toy (or just waving) the other. She also has walked a few steps while holding on to said sofa edge or coffee table. I guess I'd better get on that babyproofing stat.

Aaaaaaaaannnd ... There It Is

NJ is home today with her very first day care cold. The new blog name suggested here is not fully on the mark, though, as The Wife is working from home today as well. We'll both be taking care of the little tyke and firing off e-mails and the like during naps and such.

NJ's cough would scare you if you heard it while walking down a long, dark hallway, and she occasionally rumbles the phlegm in her throat like an old subway car coming to an emergency stop. And there's such a constant slick sheen under her nose you'd think British Petroleum is in charge of her sinuses. But she's in very good spirits:

Eh, things could be worse.