This piece is a short story of a young father who simply wants some free time to breathe and regroup his thoughts but as many parents, he feels guilty for wanting space from his children.
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It’s 6:00 AM in Virginia. The sun is up, the temperature is rising, and I’m awake an hour before my alarm goes off. Last night, just like every other night, I made myself believe that I’ll get a full nights rest. You know, eight hours of deep slumber, waking up to the loud sounds of my iPhone alarm. Nah, not this morning. Not any morning. This morning I’m awake. My one year old, Kennedy, is laying on her stomach, blanket far from her body. My two year old, Cali, has her head on my arm and is sleeping so quietly that I’m scared to get up and begin the day.
I can try and quietly get up, shower, get dressed and maybe even start breakfast before the babysitter arrives and I head to my office. Usually as soon as the shower starts and the water starts to fall, Kennedy wakes up and knocks at the bathroom door: “Daddy, juice!” She innocently screams, not knowing there’s such thing as an inside voice, and awakes her sister. Cali is older but acts younger, wanting to be held and babied. I’ll either have to rush this shower or tell them to watch cartoons while daddy finishes. Either way they’ll cry or argue with each other until I’m out.
It’s funny. Before becoming a father, when I’d see parents let their children cry I would assume some type of lack of attention or care. It seemed important to me: Catering to your children and making sure they’re aware of their parents’ efforts to keep them happy. Now I’m a father of two. I’ve grown used to the sounds of cries and whines for juice, for hugs, for things that sometimes make absolutely no sense like ribs that are really ice cubes. Hey, when a two year old says a piece of ice is really a rib from a cook out she went to, you better smile and get her that rib.
This shower is the closest thing I’ve had to a getaway in two years. At first I feel bad for wanting twenty minutes alone. I just want to think and breathe for a second. Yesterday I had to run to Target for one thing. I could’ve ran in, checked out, and been done within five minutes or less. But I have two daughters. By the time I change the diaper and clothes on my two year old, my one year old is running away from me because she thinks changing diapers is some type of sport and whoever runs away the fastest wins. I can’t let her win today. Twenty minutes have passed and they’re both dressed, hair brushed, and are photo ready. We’re headed out to the car; I’m walking behind them as they hold on to the railing to walk down the stairs.
One.
Step.
At.
A.
Time.
I can literally check my text, respond to an email, and even update my apps as I wait for them to reach the bottom. We finally reach the car where each child is seated, buckled, and told “yes, we can listen to ‘Hello’” after being asked if Adele will be on the radio. We reach our destination where the youngest girl wants to sit in the cart and the oldest prefers to hold the cart and walk with me.
One.
Step.
At.
A.
Time.
“Daddy, I want this” says Cali, as she shows me a colorful pack of flash drives that are on sale for $14.99. “Cali, I’m not sure what you would need that for but we’ll get you some later!” She looks at me with these round eyes and continues to hold the package as we walk around Target, looking for what we came for.
Aisle one, aisle two, aisle three. We finally get to the aisle I was looking for, grab the product, and head to the register.
One.
Step.
At.
A.
Time.
By the time the cashier greets us, I realize there are toddler clothes, candy, and probably even two forms of ID in our shopping cart. I search through what’s actually needed and what isn’t and I pay. The cashier compliments me on my children and calls them beautiful and I thank her and place the bags in the cart.
It has now been about two hours and I’ve finally got the iPhone charger I needed. Needless to say my children also got a few outfits, some airheads, and a colorful pack of flash drives. I’m drained, it’s only 2 P.M. and I have to figure out whats for lunch.
Luckily yesterday is gone. I’ve been in the shower for a while and none of the babies have woken. I’m glad for this time but I use it to recollect and refocus. Today I’ll be more understanding with them and understand parenting is about patience. Today I’ll do my best to hide my stress and smile at everything they say and do. I won’t get upset when they cry for juice or rib flavored ice cubes. I’ll understand their imagination is pure and needs to be protected. I’ll remind them that the sky is indeed whatever color they say it is because they’re artist and their minds are beautiful.
It’s been two years since I’ve been a father. Today I want to become an even better one.
One.
Step.
At.
A.
Time.
Photo: Flickr/Clintis