By Colin Bennett of Holy Sh*t I’m A Dad
It’s about 6:15 AM, time for my wife to leave for work. She’ll be gone a good long while.
I have to take care of my boy all day, and I have to get this house clean.
Across town, at a pharmacy near you, my wife is hard at work. It’s her first store, and the work never stops. In her pocket is her phone. She’s only been at work for fifteen minutes or so, but she’s probably digging it out now, asking me how our son is doing.
Here at home, I have already changed a diaper, given a bottle, and put my boy into his outfit for the day. I have some dishes to do from last night – I should have done them last night, but I was tired. But if I don’t wash them now we’ll get MORE fruit flies and the clutter drives me insane. I wonder why my wife didn’t do them after she put our son to bed.
Back at Walgreens, it’s another load of children for my wife. When you’re sixteen and set on your future, being a manager looks great. Employees, it turns out, are sixteen forever. So it’ll be another day of defusing interpersonal drama and quashing rumors.
When her lock screen lights up, there’s a picture of our son smiling in a baseball cap. She looks at it often.
It’s about 11 AM now, and I am listening to classical music while my son is napping. I have to get some writing done. I’m a stay-at-home dad ostensibly to focus on my fiction work, my poetry, my screenwriting, and any other passion project my wife is supporting this week. But the dishes are just sitting there – screaming at me from the sink. I can’t believe my wife didn’t do them. It’s not too much to ask for a little help around the house, is it?
Five. There’s been five customer complaints for my wife today. Old people who think a ripped package needs to be given away for free. Teenagers who definitely didn’t steal the hair ties they’re trying to return. More old ladies who don’t like my wife’s tone. She’s dealing with all of this, and she’s late for her daily pumping. She’s only pumping once a day now – it gives her more time to focus on her job, and it helps take some stress off feeling over-scheduled at work. She sits in a little room, all by herself, and everywhere are pictures of our boy. She sends me a text to ask how the day is going.
My shirt is very wet because I did the dishes in a forceful manner. It only took ten minutes. How could she not do that? Now my boy’s awake. That means another diaper change, another bottle, another round of watching him destroy the living room and another round of putting it back together. I didn’t get any writing done. There’s too much to do around here. If only some of this stuff was off my plate. I missed a text from my wife – I tell her everything is going fine.
Around 3 PM, my wife’s thoughts turn towards home. They’re always there, but they have to stay in the background. Her store is doing well, and it’s in large part thanks to her. She has to keep an eye on everything. She has to make sure those end stands are done. But she knows her son is at home, and she knows that every time he sees her walk up those steps he starts giggling. Sure, it means she’ll have to give him a breast before she changes out of work clothes. And then she’ll have to make dinner while I’m off on another shift. But our son’s face is a miracle. It is joy and wonder personified. She won’t see it for another few hours.
I’ve been looking at his face all day. I can’t move more than 10 feet away from it or it turns into a pout. Then a cry. Then a scream. But I have another round of washing bottles to get to. And I have to clean off his high chair. Six o’clock can’t come soon enough. Then I’ll finally get a break.
I send my wife a text:
“Home soon?”
This post was originally published on Holy Sh*t I’m A Dad.
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About the Author
Colin Bennett is a freelance writer and stay-at-home dad. He is the author of Holy Sh*t I’m A Dad, found at hsiad.wordpress.com. He’s 30 years old, and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin with a wife that’s out of his league and a 10 month old boy.