This time I actually have some good excuses for a week-long absence from the blog.
First it was a flu that ravaged each member of our family, with The Hurricane being the only one who managed to puke, run around for a few hours, puke again, eat, run, puke and go to sleep.
The Boss and I, well, we weren’t so lucky, although we both only suffered for 24 hours or so.
But that was last week, this week’s excuse is the fact that I’m a stay-at-home Dad going solo for a long stretch for the first time with some much-deserved holidays from work. In fact, as I write this, The Hurricane is locked into the computer room with me and is, oh crap, ripping into a box of pads that are in a yet-to-be-unpacked Christmas travelling bag (and I’m not talking goalie pads here) …
But I’m not sweating it. Play with the pads (oh hey, and tampons too) baby, have a blast. You’re not hurting anything or anyone, and they’re easy to clean up (unlike yesterday where she picked up the dog food/water dish and proceeded to dump it all over herself and the kitchen while I was slaving over a hot stove). Oh shit, she got a tampon open … huh, that’s what they look like.
OK, crisis averted.
But that’s what this week has been about for me — survival. And learning that most things she gets into aren’t a big deal and I should just let her explore, so long as she’s not putting herself into harm’s way. We can always clean things up later, or hide them under the bed or somewhere else The Boss can’t see them without searching.
This week we’ve had a blast playing out in the fresh snow that has landed over the past two days, taking sleigh rides around the neighbourhood, and chasing The Mutt in the backyard, and going to the library, and singing “Elmo’s songs” (how can an 18-month-old know enough demand a musical CD of Elmo eight times a day?), and chasing each other around the house, and trying to rediscover the art of napping (lost over Christmas break), and colouring, and just enjoying spending time with each other.
In fact, having found our groove on Wednesday, I’m thinking I could do this stay-at-home parenting for a living, writing blogs for my great sea of fans people who accidentally stumble on my blog when searching for the Cranberries song that includes the phrase ‘wrapped around her finger’ (yes, I have to let that sentence Linger — and you won’t get that if you don’t know the lyrics).
Perhaps I’ll get a bit more ambitious with my blogging or maybe I’ll just beg Mr. Lady, the best blogger I’ve read — out of the three I read, my own included (how’s that for a backhanded compliment?) — to force her readers to come here and pay me boatloads of money to write nonsense every day. Like they do her.
Then I could stay in my pyjamas every day and spend real quality time with The Hurricane, instead of an hour in the morning and two hours at night.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to this (although I think The Boss was less than enthused with the hot dog supper I prepared on Tuesday night …).