I hate mornings. Anything before 8am should be made illegal. Or blasphemous. My kids usually jump on me sometime between seven and 7:30 unless my wife nudges me awake before that with a sharp elbow to the spine - a tactile reminder that it's my turn to wake up with Evan, our early riser. Evan's first words always are "I food hungy". I take them to Upper Crust for a breakfast of cinnamon rolls, black gold cookies and chocolate milk. Or, that's when I retire to the loo and stay there till Vivian runs in and tells me that everyone else is already in the car. Somehow by this time the kids have been dressed, fed, hair braided, water bottles filled, Evan's lunch fixed, Vivian's homework in her backpack, and taekwondo and soccer gear in their bags. Evan's hat on his head. Thank goodness for elves. Or Jo.
We drive to Vivian's school. Eight minutes. Pull up by the front door. "Curly haired man" opens the car door and says more things in Spanish in one second than I will hear during the rest of the day. Vivian has been practicing her "Beunos dias" all morning but is stunned into silence. Curly's finale is something like "Adios Mamma, adios Pappa" and then they are gone.
Drive to Evan school. 7 more minutes. During which Evan asks and makes sure we haven't forgotten that he too needs to go to school. "Daddy, what going now?" What is is his standard question word. Easier than remembering where and who and when and all that stuff. Walk Evan to class. Teachers swoon over him. "Bye bye Dadda. I'ma vuv you".
Home. Wake dad up. Put him in a chair. Hot glass of milk for him. Then breakfast for him and me. It's the only meal he eats easily and I look forward to doing breakfast with him. Between that and noon I do stuff. Sometimes it's related to Vivian's school - like attending their innumerable parent meeting sessions. Then my pick-up soccer game. Run home and feed dad lunch. Then pick up Vivian unless it's taekwondo day in which case pick her up an hour later.
Meanwhile Evan is back home and napping. Evenings are crazy. So far this week we've had one soccer practice for Vivian, two school events, and date night. While Brendan and I are coaching the older kids, the younger ones have a good time playing in the park. Here's a photo of Evan and Rowan.
Somewhere here kids get ready for bed. Bed time stories. Hugs and kisses. Good night. Then feed dad dinner. Put him to bed. Then I crack open a beer. I haven't done this is decades. I clearly remember the time in my life when I stopped trying to drink all the beer in my fridge in one evening. It was strange to be so grown up. Suddenly I'd have beer in the fridge for days at a time. Then weeks, months. Now it's back down to days. Not good. The other morning I opened the liqueur cabinet to grab a largish shot glass to use as an "egg cup" - to serve my dad a soft-boiled egg for breakfast. Jo walked in and noticed the liqueur cabinet open. "Arun - you starting early this morning?" I am shocked by the lack of shock in her voice.
No comments:
Post a Comment