#06 – No Alarm Clock
PAPACITO #06
Today, something happened that I've probably been looking forward to more than is healthy to admit.
We woke up without an alarm clock – or crying.
That alone wouldn't be anything too extraordinary, but the toothless troublemaker hadn't had a single incident during the night.
Not once – did all of us seriously just sleep through the entire fucking night?!
And that's not even the best part. When I finally opened my eyes and looked at the clock, it showed something absolutely incomprehensible.
8:30
Eight – fucking – thirty?
And there's actual daylight coming through the curtains?
Hold on. This can't be right. We probably had another shitty night and I'm still completely out of it.
Then, somewhere beyond my toes, I noticed some movement coming from the crib. There he was, the little toothless troublemaker, already standing there ready and in position:
– both hands gripping the bars
– smiling
– quietly giggling
– with a diaper full of shit...
Personally, I'd probably have had a tear in the corner of my eye in that situation, but to the toothless troublemaker, this seemed like the moment he'd been waiting for in his prison cell for several long years. Apparently, he'd been awake for about fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes or fifteen years – he was SOOO fucking happy.
Almost as if he somehow knew I'd just started the longest vacation of my life – parental leave...
My alarm normally goes off at five in the morning, so I genuinely wasn't sure whether I'd overslept, died, or somehow slipped into a parallel universe. Whichever one it was, it put a smile on my face too.
I'd been waiting for this morning for quite a while. Not necessarily the part where my first task of the day is washing someone's ass, but the part where I don't have to set an alarm for five tomorrow morning.
Or the morning after that.
Or the one after that.
Or for a very fucking long time...
In fact – purely for symbolic reasons – I deleted the entire goddamn 5:00 alarm from my phone.
And there we were.
For the first time in a long time, this wasn't just another normal weekend with Monday and a long workweek waiting at the other end. I had four and a half months of something completely different ahead of me.
Long, uninterrupted nights of sleep?
Four and a half months sounds like a fucking eternity when you say it out loud. Hopefully, it feels like one too.
I've obviously been on vacation before, but summer vacation always feels like a countdown. The first week you learn how to be on vacation, the next couple of weeks you actually are on vacation, and by the last one you're already thinking: for fuck's sake, next week I have to go back to the same old shit...
This time, I don't have to think about going back for a loooong time. And if there's one thing that feels absolutely fucking fantastic, it's that!
At 8:30, I genuinely thought I still had everything under control.
That feeling didn't exactly last the whole week – it didn't even last the whole day.
Judging by the first few days, the toothless troublemaker seems to have a pretty clear plan for my parental leave:
My job is to keep up.
His job is to find out just how many different ways one tiny human can create absolute chaos.
We've spent a lot of time at the playground, where, alongside his current favorite – the swing – he's made a brand-new acquaintance: the slide... It has turned out to be such a great new friend that apparently we could stay at the playground considerably longer than Papacito's ass can tolerate sitting on the edge of a sandbox.
At home, the program has been slightly more varied.
We've planted tulips, explored the contents of cupboards and, most importantly, scattered those contents all over the fucking place.
While my wife was painting a wall (because I refuse to participate in every single one of the lady's projects anymore – they're fucking exhausting FOR ME) I learned that you genuinely can't take your eyes off the toothless troublemaker for even a second. I'd barely looked away from the ladder before he was already climbing it by himself.
Because why the hell wouldn't he?
The drawstrings on my pants have somehow made their way onto the menu, and mealtimes have also revealed a highly organized partnership with the family dog. While Papacito thinks he's feeding the child, part of the meal is quietly transferred under the table to the four-legged surveillance system waiting below.
And at some point during the week, I found myself staring at the little master, who, in return, had this four-legged creature's food bowl buried deep – very fucking deep – over his entire face.
At 8:30, I still thought I had everything under control...
And just to make sure the first week wasn't somehow left incomplete, today the toothless troublemaker decided to go down like a fucking tree...
The result is a lump and bruise on his forehead impressive enough that, while waiting for Papacito's first parental-leave performance review, it might be wise to keep all photographic evidence as far away from the grandparents as possible. Naturally, I've already been preparing a suitable version of events for friends and family, which they can, in good conscience, confirm should they ever be called as witnesses.
The toothless troublemaker, meanwhile, carried on with his life as if nothing had happened.
I did not.
If this week was only the trailer for the next four and a half months, then at least one thing is already becoming pretty fucking clear:
This is not going to be boring.
And even though we're only a few days in, I'm slowly starting to understand why they call this parental leave and not a vacation.
Time off work – yes.
Time off in general – slightly misleading terminology.
Oh, and remember that first morning?
That magical 8:30 when, for a brief moment, I thought: this is fucking brilliant. I could do this for a living.
Want to guess whether we slept through another entire night without a single incident after that – let alone until 8:30...?