You know you're a father when...
... you go to make breakfast in the morning and reach for the jug of infant formula instead of the milk.
Yuck.
The week, so far, has been very up-and-down. SJ had the implant surgery performed, and is very happy to have back control of her body. The doctor who performed the procedure was all for it. "I'd only had my twins for four months when I found out I was pregnant again," she told my wife, "so I understand exactly where you're coming from!"
That was a relief. Not only that SJ finally had someone listening to her wishes, but that a medical professional understood her reasons and empathised with them. It's good to know some doctors have retained their listening skills and their own human emotions.
As all this happened, I've been stuck at work. I've pulled overtime every night for two weeks, and as of today it stops. I've been putting in the extra time to help out my new co-worker, who is still learning the ropes. But a fortnight of "big brotherdom" is enough - I'm missing out on time with my girls, and they're missing out on regular meals while they wait for me. With one member of the family diabetic, one ADHD and one a baby, this is not good.
Food, of course, is a secondary consideration. What has been killing me the most is the lack of time I've had with LJ and SJ. It means I'm not there to help the big one, and not there to muck around with the little one. I made the first steps in rectifying the problem last night - I ordered the extremely exhausted SJ to have an early night, and sat up on my own with LJ.
While my little girl lay down on the couch, I hovered over her with a bunch of brightly-coloured, loudly rattling toys and we had a grand old time. I fed her twice, changed her twice and watched three hours of Law & Order (I love our new digital TV hookup). It wasn't until well after 11pm that I realised she'd conked out on my shoulder at least 40 minutes earlier, and put her to bed.
Then I watched her sleep for a little while, before going into our room and watching SJ sleep, too.
All is back in balance. And I'm never eating cereal with formula again.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF
Yuck.
The week, so far, has been very up-and-down. SJ had the implant surgery performed, and is very happy to have back control of her body. The doctor who performed the procedure was all for it. "I'd only had my twins for four months when I found out I was pregnant again," she told my wife, "so I understand exactly where you're coming from!"
That was a relief. Not only that SJ finally had someone listening to her wishes, but that a medical professional understood her reasons and empathised with them. It's good to know some doctors have retained their listening skills and their own human emotions.
As all this happened, I've been stuck at work. I've pulled overtime every night for two weeks, and as of today it stops. I've been putting in the extra time to help out my new co-worker, who is still learning the ropes. But a fortnight of "big brotherdom" is enough - I'm missing out on time with my girls, and they're missing out on regular meals while they wait for me. With one member of the family diabetic, one ADHD and one a baby, this is not good.
Food, of course, is a secondary consideration. What has been killing me the most is the lack of time I've had with LJ and SJ. It means I'm not there to help the big one, and not there to muck around with the little one. I made the first steps in rectifying the problem last night - I ordered the extremely exhausted SJ to have an early night, and sat up on my own with LJ.
While my little girl lay down on the couch, I hovered over her with a bunch of brightly-coloured, loudly rattling toys and we had a grand old time. I fed her twice, changed her twice and watched three hours of Law & Order (I love our new digital TV hookup). It wasn't until well after 11pm that I realised she'd conked out on my shoulder at least 40 minutes earlier, and put her to bed.
Then I watched her sleep for a little while, before going into our room and watching SJ sleep, too.
All is back in balance. And I'm never eating cereal with formula again.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF