Hey, I'm alive!
...As I exclaimed at the end of my first weekend shift with the babies. Yes, my brave and relieved wife returned to the workforce early this week, but this weekend was the test to see if I would indeed swallow that cynide pill that I have readied in my pocket, in case I go insane. But no, even though Zoe screamed her little head off sometimes and turned different shades of red, I still maintained my sanity.
Saturday was actually the tougher day of the two. Ironically, I had a great start because we put her to bed at 9 at night, and she slept all the way till almost 6 in the morning. I didn't go back to bed because I don't really operate like that - once I'm up for anything longer than 5 minutes, consider me freakin' awake. But the day was going semi smoothly, and getting the kids dressed and fed, and changed and burped, and away from sharp objects and foreign substances. Then Zoe became a fusspot and just wouldn't stop crying. I'd dangle her from all known nurturing swaddles and nothing worked. I fed her ounce after ounce until she would've burst, and I even turned to God for answers - he didn't, of course. He was having tea and I got his machine.
So anyway, I got to the point whereby I was so frustrated that I was swearing up a storm, and being really pissy about holding her. For anyone who's a parent - you'd understand that even the most loving, patient parent will have a moment whereby he feels like his limits are being strained too far... But that passed, and apparently half a cynide pill doesn't really kill you, just gives you the runs like a madman.
Alex was relatively self-serving, he just played on his own and hung out with me sometimes. He's beginning to enjoy sitting with us and just cuddling, which is the sweetest thing in the world. I really enjoy the cuddles with him, even if I have to constantly hold his hand so that he wouldn't batter his little sister on the head because she's on my other arm.
So, the house was a mess, and not once did I pee without have either an infant in my arms or a toddler playing in the bathroom.
Sunday was a little kinder to me, I think mostly because I didn't give her a chance to cry. I didn't hardly put her down at all, which is the primary trigger for her vocal cords to blare out the death scream. I just did everything with her in my arms, and didn't take a shower and get into normal people clothes till my wife came home at 2pm. That's right, my own day did not start till 2pm. It's so sad.
I survived the baby weekend, and there'll be more to come. This thing called parenthood is tremendously tough and demanding, but I guess I'll do anything for the cuddles and kisses.
