Day Two: Grateful Dead, Grandma, and Gin

Day two was an absolutely embarrassing pleasure.  This is still new, but I only fear enjoying my fresh role too much.  The anxiety is all based on my natural instinct to provide for my family.  I can’t help but to feel as though my emotional support as a father, and familial leader, is helping more so than ever in these early days of our new journey as a family.

We have a daily habit now of a five mile walk/jog for the majority Shep’s morning nap.  He has always slept best in the jogging stroller, and this has been exacerbated by Grateful Dead radio on Pandora playing from my phone, which is strapped right over his head.  My little dude loves a good heady jam.

There is an old lady that walks a similar route to ours every morning.  She always seems to be so excited to see us, and I look forward to our quick exchanges now.  There were some old fat dudes smoking tobacco products on a front porch.  They didn’t wave back.  People not waving back makes me uncomfortable.  I know you saw me, old dudes.  Stop being weird.

Those folks make the morning fun, but most importantly, I found time to take care of my son, myself, and the dog emotionally, as well as physically.  This was much more rare as a working dad.  It makes this time feel important.

Once we arrived back at home base, he was rested, and I was ready to rest.  As a stay at home dad, your time is not your own.  There is a needy little human that decides how your time is spent.  (Excuse my depth of thought for the next few sentences, please.)  Perhaps this is my biggest lesson of all during this time I’m spending at home with my son.  No matter if you work for yourself, your family, or The Man; you are truly going to have to serve somebody.  Friggin Bob Dylan, man.  Dylan knows… he just knows.

I was lucky to finish up the afternoon with my mom’s help.  She’s always wonderful.  It’s mutual selfishness.  She gets time with her grandson, and I get a slightly less stressful couple of hours.  Thanks Mom!

I had a kickball game, and got a little me time.  We lost.  We are all sore losers, and take kickball way too seriously.  More seriously than the big kid in elementary school took his domination of tetherball.

When I came home, my lovely wife had left me a healthy dinner.  This is a sign that I’m doing a great job keeping our beloved Shep alive, at least from Sugar Mama’s point of view.  Crystal light tea goes better with gin than would be expected.  That might be my favorite sentence ever.





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