It's Monday and I'm at home. Weird. Kael is taking his afternoon nap so I am taking advantage of these precious few moments to write a few words about my first day on parental leave. Before making the decision, we debated about whether or not we could afford it as you only receive 55% of your salary – already meager earnings in the expense trap of Vancouver. But then I thought of it this way: how can I afford not to? Kael will only be a baby once so if I can find a way to spend some extra time with him now, while he is soaking it all in, then I've got to do it. Might as well use the sytem. And hey, if there is ever a time to be off work in Canada, it's in the summer.
When I told people at work that I was going to take time off to be with my son, reactions were mixed. Many of the women thought it was a wonderful idea; most of the guys saw it as an extended vacation.
Tell you what fellas, a vacation it is not. It's work. I never fooled myself for a second by thinking it would be cakewalk. Taking care of an 8 month old mini-me is in fact tireless work that never ceases. You can't take breaks when you want or take an extended lunch. Nope, one thing Michele has made abundantly clear is that it's all about the baby's schedule. He's my new boss.
Following a stormy 6 am wake up where only the boob would do, Kael's morning chatter began at 8 am, which was my cue to wake up. I think it translates to something along the lines of, “Hey, I'm up now. Should we get some breakfast? This plastic giraffe just isn't doing it for me anymore. Hey, I'm up now...”, whereas the 6 am screaming was more like, “I'M STARVING MY ASS OFF OVER HERE. I WANT SOME MILK NOW!” I have to say that I much prefer the 8 am Kman's morning show than my alarm going off at 4 am like it did when I was on the early shift. I sang the good morning song while I changed his diaper - weighing the equivalent of a bowling ball following a night of urination - and then brought him into the kitchen for breakfast.
I put on some baby French music, and then got his breakfast ready while he munched on his plastic rings in his highchair, which we have come to dub the “throne”. That then, makes Kael the Lord of the Rings. This is a duty I am comfortable with, by the way, as I have previously prepared his meals on weekends. So far, paternity leave feels like an extension of the weekend. I added water to his brown rice cereal and poured some prunes from a jar into a bowl et voilà, le petit déjeuner est prêt.
Eating is messy business. Perhaps I should have changed his white shirt beforehand... He is good eater, my little bruiser, ingesting all that we offer him in between breaks from chewing on his beloved rings. I noticed that he enjoys the blunt part of the spoon more than the end where we put the food. When the feeding session is over, he starts to get tired. I can tell because he rubs his eyes , without taking into account that his fingers are sticky and slushy from a mixture of pureed prunes and cereal mash, and he is still holding the rings with their serrated edges. That can't feel too good.
When breakfast is done, it's time to wake Mamma up so he can get a little milk before going straight back to bed. It seems odd behaviour for anyone who is not a teenager to sleep all night, wake up, eat and then go right back to sleep. When I questioned the logic, I was told that this is how it's done and that I should read the book baout sleep patterns (ie Sleeping Baby = Happy Mother ) before making any more comments.
So be it. I take advantage of my free time to take the dog out for a walk and enjoy the summer morning, repeating to myself the entire time, "Jeez, this sure does beat sitting at my computer, staring out the window wishing I was outdoors.”
As I enter through the gate leading to the front door after the stroll, I hear the familiar sound of baby crying. These days, it is the sound emanating from my apartment and not some other poor sucker's place like it used to. We are right in the middle of a Kaelstorm. Our wee man is teething and he is not so enthusiastic about it. It takes him an hour before he stops hiccuping from wailing so intensely in protest and calms down enough to fall asleep.
An hour and half later, Lord Kael awakens happy as a clam, as if the torture before slumber had never occurred. It's playtime. We let him roll around on the floor until his troglodyte grunts get very deep, which is his way of telling us to change up the program. I prop him up on his feet. He sways and staggers, reminding me of myself back in my univeristy days.
"Hey, what are you doing?", Michele suddenly yells from the bathroom, "It's lunchtime! We have baby group at 1 PM." Work, work, work. We all know who the real boss is. I tell Kael he is getting the prix fixe menu consisting of: mashed turkey, with mashed potatoes, mashed green beans and for dessert, you guessed it, mashed blueberries. Oops. Forgot to change that white top again before feeding him blueberries.
I get 15 minutes to myself after lunch to shave, shower and eat my own lunch. I guess that's my break.
At baby group, there a host of Moms sitting on mats watching over their fellow mini humans as they crawl clumsily around. Oh look, little Mary just accidentally gave little Ahmed a swift kick to the temple as she zoomed past. This is the cruiser group, that is, 6-12 months. I am the only man there, yet I am comfortable enough with my metrosexuality not to feel awkward. There are babies of all shapes and sizes enjoying each other's company, playing with toys, as new mother's chat away about the various calamities of caring for their respective cruiser. While the mother's converse, so do the babies, only their conversations consists of loud groans, squeals and squawks, something the mother's have all learned to ignore. I find it all very dizzying.
The guest speaker at baby group is a nutritionist here to enlighten us on finger foods. Similar to life, the key to learning how to eat for babies is by play and experimentation. We also learned that all food does not necessarily have to be mashed up into sludge and that giving Kael a third of a banana is fine, too. He acts as the test baby that all the other mothers observe. The nutritionist offers him the banana. which he accepts rather unenthusiastically. He admires its gushiness as he squishes it with his fingers. Then he hastily decides to shove into his mouth rather barbarically. “See”, the nutrtionist proudly exclaims, “he loves it!” Perhaps instead of his beloved rings, we will now start to give him finger foods to gnaw on instead.
By the end of baby group, Kael is overtired and needing of a nap. The rest of the day goes by smoothly, as dinner and bath time are old hat for me. Where did the time go? It's been constant, rewarding work so far. But I'm not doing it completely alone as my wife-to-be has done this entire time. And, the fact that I do not breastfeed makes my new job ten times easier. Kudos to all women who do it. Day 1 has been great. Let's see if I still feel the same way after Day 30.
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