First it was time to feed, a joyous moment that is normally handled by the wife, but it was my turn to spoon feed Kenadie. My daughter is not a patient eater by any means, and if you're not immediately inserting food into her mouth while she's in the high chair she will let you and the rest of North America hear her displeasure at this. It was a messy affair, with her taking her bib and wiping food all over her face. Still it wasn't that bad and she laughed at me making weird sounds to keep her from fussing.
My mother recently informed me that when I was a baby I would scream with rage if I had any sort of hunger pain. Kelly now blames me for all of Kenadie's food tantrums.
Next up was some reading time, and her and I sat down, I plopped in a Baby Einstein DVD and put it on repeat play, a feature built into the disc (Disney knows what they're doing). I broke out a pop up book and started reading to Kenadie the adventures of Elmo competing in a race, when I heard the baby start grunting as if she was bench pressing a Fiat. Oh dear, she's become little Miss Poopie Pants.
The ritual of the diaper change was about to commence, and it does give me a sense of pride that I can change the nappies like the best of them. Ok maybe I'm not super nanny, but I have skills. I place her down and get her all ready. She had a tepid look, but with some silly noises and me doing my best Weird Al impression as I changed the lyrics of various songs to reference pooping, she laughed and got ready to get all clean. I was done wiping the nastiness off her when she let out a cackle, which in turn she her peed. Ye gods. I close up the once clean diaper as quick as humanly possible and let her do her thing. After another diaper change she was ready to hear more stories about Sesame Street characters doing Sesame Street things, such as visiting the desert and going to a carnival.
I put her in her jumper and she played a bit while she watched her Baby Einstein DVD, something she gets fixated on. After hearing that play over and over again I decided I wanted to commit genocide, but she was enjoying it so I suffered through.
I gave her her last bottle of the day, but it was my time to be Mr Poopie Pants. I figured the wife would be home soon, so I waited, but as the clock ticked it was apparent that if she didn't arrive soon it would be a mess of biblical proportions.
I put Kenadie in her excer-saucer and placed her outside the bathroom door, but had it cracked open enough that I could keep an eye on her. It was surreal sitting their doing my business as she just stared at me with a blank expression. I felt awful having her witness the terrible event of her dad crapping in the toilet, but she wouldn't remember it in a few hours, but she may recall it in regression therapy years down the road, before she decides to have her name changed.
After more playing with the toy piano, more reading and more of the DVD, that was produced by Satan, it was getting time for bed. Another diaper change took place, and of course she peed as I was doing it. She was an exhausted one, but it was the first time I ever put her to sleep for the night by myself. See putting Kenadie down for the night is an art. It takes the skills of a brain surgeon and the patience of Gandhi. I make my way up the stairs, gently put her in the crib, and turn on the various devices such as noise maker and monitor. Right as she was cuddled looking peaceful in slumber my dog decided to bark at invisible ninjas and woke Kenadie up. She decided she wanted nothing to do with this sleep business.
I picked her back up, turned off the fan, noise maker, and monitor, and took her downstairs. After a few minutes of being cradled in the rocker, and listening to that miserable DVD, she was sound asleep again. I took her back upstairs, placed her in the crib, turned on the necessary equipment, and left her to slumber.
I went back downstairs and sat down in my chair, picked up a book, and started to ponder my time watching her solo. I really don't understand how in the hell single parents manage. I know I can be a good father, but I wonder if it's only because I have my wife to help, otherwise I'd be as incompetent as Congress is at managing the country.
"Children wish fathers looked but with their eyes; fathers that children with their judgment looked; and either may be wrong." - William Shakespeare
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