Day 585: Airports & Jerk Chicken
We went to the airport to pick up your uncle Joe this morning my dear Zena. He came in all the way from Toronto just to see you... and the house... and also Blaze... and probably his sister; your mom. Still, you're getting a nice bit of attention from yet another family member so you really have nothing to complain about. In fact, right now, as I write this, in the basement using a workout ball as a chair... he's upstairs trying to burp you. And having very little luck by the sounds of it.
He and I just had a glass of wine, and a half, so I'm feeling a bit wonky thank you very much. Your dear old dad isn't a big drinker, as one might expect from not having a drop of alcohol for the first 36 years of life, so that one and a half glass (which hasn't even been fully consumed yet) is doing a pretty good little number on me.
Nevertheless, a blog must be written! And so it shall!
The day started out long. It's hard to even say 'we got up at...(a specific time)" anymore, as when you're constantly getting up and down during the night dealing with little gremlins it all sort of blends together into one fairly sleepless night. Last night wasn't as bad as it's been, certainly, with you pretty much sleeping solidly for your mother from about 11pm till 5am. Your brother however, was a different story entirely. Again, he waits until I'm in no shape to deal with any shenanigans whatsoever and then lays down a particularly intense screaming fit culminating, last night, in a rather early transition into the guest room with me.
It might have been 1am or so.
We ended up sleeping quite soundly until your mother flew into the room this morning shouting instructions as she came, having over slept herself. Oh yes, there was no gentle attempt at waking the two of us up, nothing so sweet and calming as "hello my two little male darlings, please get up and get ready as we have another joyous, sunny day to go enjoy." Nope. Nothing like that at all. In fact I think the first thing I heard this morning was her shouting something about throwing Blaze's clothes on and getting my ass in gear. It was so discombobulating as a matter of fact, that Blaze immediately started crying.
I did as I was instructed and we were out the door on our way to pick up Joe only about twenty minutes later than the latest possible time we'd decided we could leave. That's about standard fare when you have kids I think. In fact, probably right around the time you finally figure out how much time to add to your allotted 'get ready time' they're off to college. It's a no win situation, I can assure you.
No big deal, we were a bit late when we picked him up, but at least it meant we didn't have to park. We didn't take you with us, my little pumpkin spice, and instead dropped you off for the morning with your grandparents, then returned there, with your uncle, for a big dinner for my dad and his former work associates. It was a pretty amazing Jamaican feast laid out by my brother-in-law, complete with dumplings, fried chicken, jerk chicken, and rice. Your parents shoved their faces full of glorious food, while watching the Blue Jays lose another heartbreaker, while you ate the vile factory formula you've resigned yourself to ingest; since denying your mother's boobs, just like your brother!
We ended up staying there the rest of the day and only just got back about an hour ago. It's now 10:30pm and I'm trying to get this typed out on the computer I moved to the basement, before Joe loses consciousness and collapses down here. Not surprisingly he chose to sleep in the basement, rather than right next to the baby room, so that he can actually get some sleep. He would have no doubt found it slightly uncomfortable when in the middle of the night, your sleep drunk dad picks up a screaming Blaze and climbs into the guest room bed having completely forgotten that your poor uncle had arrived.
I wouldn't put it past me my dear, which is why his choice to sleep down here was probably a very wise decision indeed.
Okay, I've written enough and this ball is starting to get extra wobbly. I just don't know if it's due to the wine I've ingested, or my VERY poor core strength! Flip a coin.
Love you kid.