Single Dad Survival Skills

September 27, 2007

I am closely following the San Diego Padres vs Milwaukee Brewers game on the computer tonight as my beloved Chicago Cubs can't seem to close the door on the National League Central pennant race. Yes we got swept by the last place Florida Marlins. I'm beginning to hate that team. As I'm writing, the Padres are blowing a 9-2 lead and now only lead 9-5 in the bottom of the 7th. My stomach hurts.


I am fresh off a week taking care of the boys alone. By myself. Solo. My wife took our youngest daughter to visit her sister who just had twins. Her sister and her brother-in-law live in Baltimore. Not close. So for one week I was in charge of the boys. I survived, but just barely. I mean I wasn't lying on the floor in the fetal position by the end of the week singing children's nursery rhymes or anything. Old Beach Boy songs, but not nursery rhymes.


I had no idea that boys age 4 and 7 have such a busy and complex schedule. Thankfully, my wife prepared a 10 page Excel spreadsheet with grids and graphs. All color coded and scheduled down to the minute. I had a copy on the fridge, in my planner, in my car, and in my wallet. I could not lose that spreadsheet. If I did, I may as well have packed things up and left the country because there was no way I could figure out who went where and when. I think Eisenhower had a simpler battle plan for D-Day.


Each day I took my oldest son to school along with a neighbor girl. Then I had to take my youngest son to a friend's house some days, but some days he was suppose to be picked up. The 7 year old went to a different friend's house after school each day and I had to pick both he and his brother up at various times and locations after work. Then we had Cub Scouts Thursday night and I had to remember to take the boys to buy a new Wolf handkerchief, slide and book. We had to buy treats for the flag football game and there was the agonizing over whether to go with Hi-C, Gatorade or Capri Sun ( I low balled the team and went with the Hi-C which was on sale). I of course forgot to bring any type of first aid kit to the football game and my son got laid out on a play and came to the sidelines with blood gushing from his knee and his glasses all cockeyed. I used a piece of Kleenex some kind mom gave me to stop the bleeding. Miraculously it worked.


We also had swimming lessons. The whole swim scene is my wife's expertise as she was a former high school swimmer. I flunked out of swim lessons at about 4th grade. I needed to remember the code to get into the fitness center, not to mention all the swim gear and change of clothes. And have you ever tried to find a kid's swim class at a pool? It's impossible to tell where the teachers are and which class is which. I don't recognize anybody so I have to go from group to group asking if they have my son in their class. Of course my 4 year old jumps in the water at the first chance he gets but his lesson starts a 1/2 hour later than his brother's so we have to wait by the Jacuzzi. You have to be careful not to boil your kid in the Jacuzzi. I tried to keep an eye on the swim lesson as best I could.


Probably the most grueling part of being a single parent for the week was being the only disciplinarian. You don't realize how exhausting it is to make every call. It's like being the only ref at an NFL game. One kid starts screaming but you are in the other room cleaning up spilt Juicy Juice. So you come running into the room to make the call but you were way out of position and botch the whole thing. I finally just starting laying the hammer at every little peep and drop of the hat. Too much. The boys grew tired of my act. The 4 year old summed it up by saying, "I want a new daddy" for most of the week. I responded, "Well as soon as some sucker answers my add in the paper we'll start interviewing."


Then I hit rock bottom. The low point of the week came when I had to put our dog to sleep. Yes that's right, our golden retriever. My running partner of 9 years. But he had serious health problems all summer and it came to the point where I had to pull the trigger. Of course I loved the dog and I was an emotional wreck when I had to take him to the vet by myself. I mean between the kids, the Cubs blowing the pennant race and the dog, I was in bad shape. I did it during the day to spare the boys any trauma. Then I broke the news to them over dinner. My eyes were bloodshot and my lips were quivering but I had to break it to them.


"Boys, did you notice K.C. is gone?"

"Yea."

"Well I had to take him to the vet like I told you yesterday. And he died."
Slight pause of about 2.8 seconds, followed by my son's response, "Can we get another dog?"

Longer pause of about 30 seconds. "Well I guess you've moved on. Good for you son."



So much for empathy. I looked to the 4 year old for some moral support but he was elbow deep into a bag of Cheetos. I spent the rest of dinner crying over my frozen pizza and they took off to laugh their little heads off at "America's Funniest Pets". They missed the irony I'm sure.


The day for the girls return finally came. We made a nice Welcome Home sign that had a huge black mark in the middle where the boys fought over who could color where. We bought some flowers. I was on the roof with binoculars searching for the van. Finally I saw it. I screamed down to the boys, "There it is!!! Oh sweet Mother of Pearl there they are! They're hear boys!! Everything's going to be ok again!!!" The celebration was wild and we rushed them inside for pizza and a recap of the week.


Bottom line is, my wife is a much better stay at home parent. Which should come as no surprise to anyone. But we make a good team. Speaking of team sports, final score in Milwaukee...Padres 9, Brewers 4. Cubs might back into the playoffs yet. If they do, I might let the boys look at goldfish.