Super Dad!

My alarm went off at 6:00 this morning like it always does. I hit the snooze button like I always do. My wife got up and went straight for the shower like she never does. This could only mean one of two things. Either she, and all three kids, slept perfectly last night and she is feeling refreshed and full of energy or she is sick and had been miserable all night just waiting for morning to come so she could get out of bed. I thought back to the night before. Yes, I seemed to recall bringing the baby into bed with us at some point. That’s not a good sign.

“Do you need me to stay home today?” I ask peeking my head into the bathroom.

“I don’t think so,” she replies. Whew. A bullet dodged.

Then came 6:15. The shower was over and I could see what she really looked like. It wasn’t pretty. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home today, Honey?” I ask.

“I don’t want you to stay home until I really need it. What if I feel worse tomorrow?” she says. I look her over one more time. I put my hand on her forehead simply because that’s what you are supposed to do.

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but I don’t think you could get any worse,” I reply. And so begins my day as a stay-at-home dad. Kindergarten starts at 9:00, so getting three kids dressed and out the door in time shouldn’t be difficult. To help get organized I make a list of all the jobs I would need to get accomplished. I begin by consulting my wife’s calendar and then inserting a few of my own agenda items. Around 8:40 I comment to my ailing wife that I feel as if I had too much time to get our son to school.

“Have you packed his snack yet?” she asks.

“No.”

“Did you brush their teeth?”

“Not yet”.”

“Do they all have shoes and jackets?”

“Uh-oh.”

I start scrambling. “Zach, pack a snack,” I bark. “Girls, to the bathroom and brush your teeth.” We all run around for a few minutes getting things done and then head out to the car.

“Dad, the clock says 8:51,” Zach announces as we are pulling out of the driveway. “That means we should get to school at 8:56.” To the non-parent, that sounds like plenty of time. However, to the kindergarten parent, that’s cutting it close. Kindergartens have this annoying habit of making parents sign their children in and out each day. It is a token effort to control who takes the kids, but it is really inconvenient when your kindergartner has younger siblings as well.

Right on schedule, we pulled into the parking lot at 8:56. Then I unbuckle the younger girls, hold their hands and walk them as fast as I can across the parking lot. It is now 8:59. I sign my name and leave. Job 1 - done!

Now on to Job 2 - Buy hot dogs for the school fundraiser Friday night. Easy enough. We drive across town to the store and buy the biggest packages we could find. Load the girls back in the car and move on to Job 3 which is to deliver the dogs to school for storage in their refrigerator. Two minutes from school I glance in the mirror. What? No! It can’t be. I glance at the clock. 9:35. It’s too early for a nap. How can she be asleep? We have a full agenda. Plan B. I call the school and speak to the secretary. “Can you meet me outside and put the hot dogs away for me?” I ask. She agrees. Moments later I am in the parking lot. I slow the car to a stop and shift it into park. Is that crying I hear? Yes, it is. Oh, great! Now she’s awake. Oh well, I hand off the dogs and check off Job 3.

Still crying. Time to improvise. “Hey, girls!” I say. “Who wants to go to the park?” Super Dad gets a joyous response from his adoring fans. The crying stops and it’s off to the park we go. We play for about a half hour and then load the girls back up. “Time to go get your hair cut,” I announce. That would be Job 4.

Fortunately, Job 4 is completed without incident. I wipe my brow and look at my watch. “Uh-oh. Kindergarten gets out in 10 minutes. We have to go!” I pay the bill and load the girls back in the car once again. We zoom off to the school and arrive right at noon. Before I get out of the car, my phone rings. It’s a text message from my ailing wife. “I’m hungry. Bring food.” We can do that.

I rush inside and sign Zach out, then we head to Del Taco to get Mom a burrito. We do the burrito drop-off and then Super Dad takes the kids to McDonald’s. If you are still hanging in there with me at this point, this is when it gets good.

I glance in the mirror two minutes from out destination. What? She’s sleeping again! No, not now! The kids know where we are going so I can’t back out. This problem is easily solved. Simply remove the entire car seat (she’s well past the infant carrier stage by now) and carry it inside the restaurant. My children are watching me carefully, so I silently curse my wife for buying the heaviest car seat in the store. I persist through the pain and eventually arrive inside.

We order and settle down to eat. “Daddy, I have to pee.” It’s Zach. I can’t haul all three into the bathroom, especially given the hefty weight of the car seat.

I pause to think this through. “Okay,” I begin. “Run over to the bathroom and tell me if anyone is in there or not.” Being the careful dad that I am, I am not about to send a five-year-old into a bathroom alone. I position myself between our table and the restroom so that I can monitor both. Moments later, Zach returns.

“I can’t tell it anyone is in there or not,” he says. Off I go the the bathroom, walking backward so I don’t take my eyes off my daughters. I peek inside. All clear. “Go, Buddy!” I say waving him in. Walking sideways this time so that I can see if anyone else goes into the bathroom while also watching my daughters, I return to my perch in the middle. I feel like a bird searching for prey, my head moving from side to side. Check the bathroom, check the girls, check the bathroom, check the girls. The door opens. Zach emerges. Success.

Meanwhile back at the table I notice my three-year-old daughter doing the dance. “Maddie, do you have to pee?” I ask.

“Yeah.” I stop to think again.

“Zach, take your sister to the bathroom. Stay with her the whole time,” I command. “But first, let me know if anyone is in there.” And we go through the whole drill again. I return to the center perch and check the bathroom, check the sleeping baby, check the bathroom, check the sleeping baby. Oh no! Someone kinda creepy looking is heading for the men’s room. I size him up. Yup, he’s weird. I follow him, walking sideways to keep one eye on the baby. I catch the door behind him and plant myself halfway in and halfway out. I watch my new friend pee, with one eye, while keeping the other on the baby. You can’t be too careful. Fortunately, he’s got a small bladder. He even washes his hands. I return to my perch.

“Dad!” I look over at the bathroom door. “Maddie pooped and she needs you to wipe her.”

“Tell her she’s out of luck, “ I reply, not moving from my perch. A few minutes later, I hear the air dryer in the bathroom turn on. That can only mean one thing - she’s done! The door opens and out they come, but this time Zach is wiggling.

“I have to poop now!” he yells across the restaurant.

“Noooooooooo!” I moan. I send Maddie back to the table to be with her sister while I stay on my perch. Check the bathroom, check the girls, check the bathroom, check the girls.

Once again I hear the air dryer and Zach emerges. We return to the table to find the baby awake -- and hungry. Note to self: The McChicken Sandwich is too spicy for a baby. I hope Mom is better by tomorrow.