So Little Time

I had a very busy Easter weekend. So busy that I didn't get to do anything I wanted to do until late yesterday afternoon. (I took a day off from work). It's funny how I always go into the weekend with a list of things I hope to accomplish before Monday, only to get few if any of them done.

I think the biggest challenge of being a parent has been finding time and/or energy for myself. I've spoken to other new dads who seem to have all the time in the world to pursue their hobbies, and they bug the living piss out of me. Somehow these guys manage to jam with their bands, or play organized sports, or even go to clubs(!) while their uncomplaining wives do time with their little ones for 20-hour stretches.

Lest you think Robin keeps me under lock and key, I should mention that she's very good about giving me time off. I do get to go to a movie now and then by myself, and she has taken Keeley out of the house for a couple hours when I need to do some home improvement without being "assisted" by my daughter. But my off-time is still a rare commodity; not as plentiful as it was pre-baby.

I admit I'm jealous of the aforementioned Other Dads. I try to console myself by telling myself that I'm a better parent than they are, especially when I can tell just by speaking with them that they haven't got a clue as to how to handle their little one, or when their idea of spending time with their toddler consists of not leaving the house.

I shouldn't worry about what other people do. I really shouldn't.

Just Because...

No rants or angst this morning, just a random thought. I'm at the salt mine and I just looked at the picture of Keeley on my desk and I got all misty. Sometimes I just look at my beautiful little girl and my heart hurts because I love her so very much.

That's all.

(Didn't) Enter, Sandman

I am fried this morning. Didn't really get to sleep until about 2:30 last night. No real reason...just couldn't fall out. Then my head started working overtime on everything under the sun...work, my novel, money, life, Breakfast Jacks, women I've slept with, women I would like to sleep with, Breakfast Jacks, and on and on. Every so often I'd glance at the clock and panic when I saw just how much less sleep I'd be getting before I had to get up and trudge off to the salt mine.

I try to get 7 hrs sleep each night. When I succeed, I'm pretty optimistic about life when I wake up. I feel alert, poised, benevolent toward my fellow man. When I have nights like last night, my head hurts, my eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my skull. I feel edgy. I'm more likely to take things personally, I have a short fuse, and I feel like life is one big chore.

Once was a time when I could function just fine on 2 hours sleep. Alas, those days are gone. It sucks getting old.