No YOU haven’t posted on your blog in about a month. Shut up.
It’s been a crazy few weeks around the Sasquatch household. Again. And another big milestone—one for us, not Squatch.
We had our first one-parent nights this month. Don’t worry, Squatch survived. But there were little pieces of me and Karli that suffered in the process.
The first weekend in March, Karli had to go back down to Oklahoma for her job. Squatch and I decided to stay behind, which means that we were having a dude’s weekend all day Saturday and Sunday, with the whole night in between. We had a good time (y’know—some blocks, some storybooks, some poker, some strippers and cigars—normal guy stuff) but his mom missed him and probably broke a few sound barriers in the rental car* on the way back.
*I’m pretty sure she’s probably the first person to do Mach 1 in a sky blue Fiat compact.
The following weekend, it was my turn to leave for a conference in Boston. Only I was gone five days and four nights. Not gonna lie—That. Was. Tough. The first night, I kept hearing phantom baby cries and jumping awake to take care of it, only to realize I was in an overpriced hotel room. The second night, I probably appreciated the full night’s rest without needing to get up and take care of a kid. By the last morning, I was dying to get back. It’s not like I never missed Karli when I was on trips before—of course I did—but this was just another level of separation. I have no idea how parents whose jobs involve regular overnight travel manage to do this.
The toughest part was that he’s at an age where he didn’t really miss me. He’s not really old enough yet. Don’t get me wrong, he lit up like the Vegas Strip when he saw me at the airport, but he couldn’t spend the whole five days talking about how much he missed Daddy. He was almost as excited for the stuffed lobster I got him as he was for me to hold him.
We’re still in that stage where separation is harder on us than it is on him. He adjusts really, really quickly. I know that won’t last for much longer, and his separation anxiety will start to kick in pretty soon, but our separation anxiety is going to get a little kick in the pants soon. Karli got a new job—an outside-the-house job—that starts in a few weeks, which means that we have to start with the dreaded D-word: Dogfighting.
No, wait, wrong post.
We’re steeling ourselves for the inevitability. Karli gets bummed and bemoans abandoning her sweet baby boy, and I tell her that everything will be just fine while shoving down thoughts of him picking up pneumonia and whooping cough and bad habits from the other little
rat bastards darlings in the daycare. It’ll be okay, though. I keep telling myself this. On the fortunate side, things have worked out so that we can swing some temporary grandparent babysitting for the couple weeks between when Karli starts and my summer begins so that we really have till August to find the just-right place to take care of him. And it should give plenty of time for Squatch’s separation anxiety to settle in so we’re not the only ones bawling like crazy when he gets dropped off.