Mr. Mom: Day One-Half
You’ll probably think me a lying gobshite, but I’m Mr. Mom right now because Mama Dog had to jet off to Chicago to tape an appearance on a well-known nationally-aired chat show. I worked a half day this morning, then rushed home to be here before Mama Dog had to take off for the airport at noon. Since then, my already elevated esteem for Mama Dog has risen ever higher. Stay-at-home parenting is delightful and rewarding but hella exhausting. She does this each and every day and makes dinner for me when I get home for work. Thank you, Mama Dog! You’re a wonder, wonder woman!
The family misses its matriarch, but while she was stuck in travel hell (her original flight got cancelled), we had some fun in the neighbourhood. Charles is in town again, and he kindly helped out with the afternoon perambulation. He walked Doggy Dog while I pushed Baby Dog in the stroller, and we ambled over to Diesel, letting passers-by assume that Baby Dog has two daddies. One of the many good things about Diesel is that it allows dogs, so we were all able to go in. Unfortunately, Doggy Dog acted up in the store. I took him out and waited bemusedly as Charles strolled Baby Dog around the fiction aisles. Probably not what he was expecting to be doing anytime soon.
We dropped Doggy Dog off at home then headed on to Royal Coffee for refreshments. Baby Dog got fussy once motion stopped, so I took her out of the stroller and let her play with a spoon, which proved to be hours of fun for the whole family. Or at least tens of minutes of fun for the infant child.
Fussiness accelerated at Safeway, where we stopped for coffee filters and liquor.* As we started up 63rd it got worse and worse until finally I decided the thing to do was pluck Baby Dog out and carry her the rest of the way home. That was most of the way, a good fifteen-minute walk, but she was so taken with the novelty of being out of doors and not contained in the stroller that she didn’t cry again the whole time. “I bet mummy never does this,” I told Baby Dog. Kind of fallacious, that; mummy usually doesn’t have a guy trailing her smoking cigarettes and carrying scotch to push the stroller while she carries the baby. She remains a wonder, wonder woman.
___________________
*Charles expressed some undefined misgivings about bringing scotch home in the bottom of a baby carriage. I figure it’s better that than letting the baby carry it.
The family misses its matriarch, but while she was stuck in travel hell (her original flight got cancelled), we had some fun in the neighbourhood. Charles is in town again, and he kindly helped out with the afternoon perambulation. He walked Doggy Dog while I pushed Baby Dog in the stroller, and we ambled over to Diesel, letting passers-by assume that Baby Dog has two daddies. One of the many good things about Diesel is that it allows dogs, so we were all able to go in. Unfortunately, Doggy Dog acted up in the store. I took him out and waited bemusedly as Charles strolled Baby Dog around the fiction aisles. Probably not what he was expecting to be doing anytime soon.
We dropped Doggy Dog off at home then headed on to Royal Coffee for refreshments. Baby Dog got fussy once motion stopped, so I took her out of the stroller and let her play with a spoon, which proved to be hours of fun for the whole family. Or at least tens of minutes of fun for the infant child.
Fussiness accelerated at Safeway, where we stopped for coffee filters and liquor.* As we started up 63rd it got worse and worse until finally I decided the thing to do was pluck Baby Dog out and carry her the rest of the way home. That was most of the way, a good fifteen-minute walk, but she was so taken with the novelty of being out of doors and not contained in the stroller that she didn’t cry again the whole time. “I bet mummy never does this,” I told Baby Dog. Kind of fallacious, that; mummy usually doesn’t have a guy trailing her smoking cigarettes and carrying scotch to push the stroller while she carries the baby. She remains a wonder, wonder woman.
___________________
*Charles expressed some undefined misgivings about bringing scotch home in the bottom of a baby carriage. I figure it’s better that than letting the baby carry it.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 11:21 PM
3 Comments:
Amazing how just changing a child's perspective changes their mood as well! My younger son is so much like this right now!
You make me want to leave my husband for a day so he can see what it's REALLY like. But it sounds like you did very well, scotch purchase aside. Congratulations! And I can't wait to hear about Twizzle's debut on Oprah. Maybe it will lead to a book deal! And movie rights! Oh, I am getting ahead of myself...
Hey! What's wrong with a scotch purchase? It's not like a wee dram makes a man a lesser parent, nor is it like the wee one is gonna remember a bottle of aged scotch in the pocket beneath her stroller. If we were talking about a case of Budweiser cans or a vial of crack, I'd understand your misgiving. But to disparage a man's purchase of scotch, even if an infant is present, is like ridiculing him for renting a crime drama at the video store. It's just another piece of grown up life.
Post a Comment
<< Home