The Babysitter Solution

Taking another brief break from ranting and railing about national politics to note a change on the home front.

On my good days, ol’ Fang is more fun to be around than a barrelful of monkeys. On my bad days, however, I am hands-down, no-kidding-around-about-it intolerable. My ongoing goal, therefore, is to try to have more good days than bad days. For my family’s sake, if not my own.

Lately I haven’t been doing such a great job of it. By ‘lately’ I mean since The Man Cub was born, and even more in the last few months. The good times that were supposed to be right around the corner just kept never showing up.

See, I knew it was gonna be tough being a full-time work-at-home Dad, but really, I soooo had no clue. Turns out it was like taking two full time jobs, one of which involves hitting multiple weekly deadlines and the other safeguarding a ticking human time bomb 24 hours a day while juggling flaming chainsaws. And the twin responsibilities never fail to redline at the exact same moment.

Anyhow, it was making me a half-assed father and a shitty husband. So we had the brainstorm of “hey, let’s engage the services of a babysitter.” We had hesitated as long as we did because it just seemed weird to hire someone to come hang out at our apartment while we were both there and take care of our kid for us. You know?

It’s still a little weird for us. But since we don’t live anywhere near family or friends and it was becoming abundantly clear that I, Fang, had bitten off more than I could chew, parenting-wise, we surrendered to the inevitable and officially took the Child Care plunge.

I’m happy to report all three of us are delighted with The Sitter. I haven’t strayed into the Red Zone all week and The Missus got a mess of work done this weekend that she wouldn’t have if she had been having to entertain the boy the whole time I worked. And The Man Cub didn’t suffer for lack of attention, keeping things blissfully quiet on the home front.

Additionally, I discovered that not having to always be minding the boy makes me actually appreciate the time we do spend together (as opposed to feeling resentment, and then guilt for feeling resentful). I tell you what, I felt like the king of England, walking out of my office to bounce my infant son on my lap for a few minutes and make baby talk, before retiring back to my office to, you know, do the stuff that kings do.

The dog feels neglected, but for right now, that is collateral damage that we can live with.

We shoulda thunk of this months ago.

That concludes this report from the home front. We return you now to your regularly-scheduled political outrage…