Today, my baby (who’s almost two, actually) has decided to sleep in. This sounds like it would be nice, and it is, but it doesn’t really do me a whole ton of good. I mean, if we’d talked and last night had a conversation like: “daddy, you know how I usually wake up at like 545 and then just sit in there and slowly ratchet up the volume every few minutes til you can’t bear it and come get me between six thirty and seven thirty?” “Yes. Of course I do, sweetie. How could I not? It’s what starts every single day of my life?” “Well, daddy, tomorrow, I’m thinking ‘fuck it.’ I’m gonna sleep in until nine or so, so why don’t you go ahead and sleep in too?” then I’d be stoked. But it doesn’t work like that. In fact, even typing this out is sure to be interrupted at any given moment, at which point I’m gonna have to wipe an ass, dispose of a diaper, find some clothes, brush some teeth, cook some food and find a distraction for her before I can come back and finish doing this. That’s a lot of work just to be able to keep writing my blog, which, while ‘rewarding,’ isn’t exactly like getting a blowjob from a bikini team while sitting in a rooftop pool. This is the focus of today’s ‘the real shit they really don’t tell you about this bullshit’ series. Today’s topic: Time Management OR You Don’t Even Have Time To Do The Shit You Hate.
If you’re childless and your life is anything approaching ‘not completely shitty’ (and I’m not talking about the tip of Maslow’s pyramid here. I don’t mean your self actualization or your well fed soul…I mean, if you’re not putting together ipads at knifepoint sixteen hours a day or sucking dicks for cheeseburgers) then you probably spend your leisure time either doing A) slightly ambitious things you love or B) completely mindless things that help you to wind down/relax/forget how much you hate whoever the fuck it is you hate. Every once in a while, you’ll look over and go, “ah fuck. I gotta take the garbage down” so you take your hand off your lubed up penis, run the garbage to the curb and then get back to what you’re doing (what are you doing with that lubed up penis, by the way?). Sometimes, you’ll be watching TV and you’ll get a phone call. It will be your mom and it will be annoying and you’ll have to pause the television or kind of brainlessly talk and watch at the same time. Sometimes you’ll look around and you’ll say, ‘you know what?’ I should do some fucking laundry” so you throw a load in and then go out to get some lunch. When you come home, you put that shit in the dryer and at some point, you probably fold the clothes (OR, and this is really the way to roll, you just dress yourself right out of the dryer for the next week or so).
Every once in a great while, between Game of Thrones, Pornhub.com, Facebook, On the Impossible Past, your model WWII flying machines collection and a few pints down the street at that lame bar, something comes along that’s really worth sinking your teeth into and you decide ‘fuck it. I’m not gonna watch Sons of Anarchy tonight because tonight is something I want to do EVEN MORE!’ so you do that instead. I’m sure you all see where I’m going with this banal exercise, right?
Good, because when you’ve got a couple of kids walking around, there ain’t time to do shit. Did you just hear the list of shit I’d have to do just to get another sentient being out of bed? That’s one of the most mindless things that a person can do. Stand up, go piss, grab the rice krispies and sit in front of the TV or the paper while the coffee brews. Except when you have to do it for a kid, suddenly just getting up morphs into a zillion tiny tasks. Maybe she’s shit through her pants (an extremely common early morning discovery). Well, can’t fucking leave a pile of clothes that are literally caked in feces in your bedroom, so suddenly, you have a naked child who must be diapered, lest they shit on the floor, you have a tiny outfit caked in poo, you have shit on your hands, a shitty diaper and usually (though not today in my case) you’ve just been woken up by screaming and it’s still fucking dark outside. This is all in the first fifteen seconds of the day. SO, it’s off to the sink where you rinse the fucking pants, wash off your hands, hang the pants up, go toss out the diaper, come back into the room and your child is into some bullshit (perhaps she’s knocked over your tray full of change and jewelry or perhaps she’s dipping her hand in the toilet…whatever the fuck she’s doing, it’s irritating, I promise you that) SO, suddenly you’re diapering the baby and you’re looking at the clock and at the pile of spilled change and necklaces and brooches and shit and you’re thinking two things: 1) I have really, really got to shit/pee, and 2) fuck cleaning that stuff up. No time. I’m just gonna leave it there.
The baby has, since it got up, been telling you it’s hungry or thirsty. At this point, it’s watched you selfishly do all your own things that you like to do (cleaning up shit, putting her in diapers, rinsing out tiny pants) while ignoring her needs, so now she’s yelling “I’m FUCKING HUNGRY!!! (or small child equivalent)” and next thing you know, you’re halfway through scrambling some eggs and you still haven’t peed and that diaper is on your bed and that change and shit is still all over the floor.
Now, you look over at the garbage and realize, (much like your childless friend) that you need to take the garbage down. You know what you’re likely to say? “Fuck it. Can’t do that now. I’ll get to it later.” And you will, you will do it later. And HERE’S the part that is so goddamned miserable:
The kid will go down for a nap, and you’ll be free, finally, mercifully, free. It’s your time to watch Game of Thrones or beat off or work on your play or whatever the fuck it is, but you will be presented with obstacles. The first obstacle is the largest one, and that’s how completely fucking exhausted you are. HOW CAN YOU NOT TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO SLEEP? Well, if you choose to forego sleep, you’ll suddenly find that on your way to the Xbox, there’s a garbage can that’s overflowing, a diaper full of shit on your bed, and a bunch of change and bullshit like that scattered all over the floor. Are you really gonna sit there and watch tv/beat off/work on your self indulgent little art project in the midst of this abject fucking squalor? Fuck you, you disgusting bum! Clean this shit up. Who are you, Lindsay Lohan? (It’s best not to even get into pets and the similar but seperate issue that is ignoring your pets, smelling your pets revenge as they get pissed at you for ignoring them, getting pissed at your pets for having the nerve to expect to be treated with a bit of dignity and so forth…). So there you are. Sitting in a pile of your own filth, clinging to the last little scrap of free time you have (which isn’t really that free, because you can’t, say, go across the street and get a sandwich. You’re trapped in your house [which is a situation that’s worthy of its own entry]) and realizing that you have no choice but to fill it with menial tasks you hate because you have simply not had the time to do the shit you hate for the past few hours/days.
THIS is the grind of parenting. This is the part that crushes souls. The kids themselves are wonderful (or at least tolerable to you) and there’s obviously a real, no-bullshit joy that comes with watching someone go from a shitting blob of jelly to a real life person that likes and has opinions on things, but it’s this: the inability to do the things you want to do when you want to do them, or even when you don’t want to do them, and even beyond that, to not have time to even do the shit you despise. That’s what makes everyone into an asshole. As I bid you farewell, consider this: They say the average bone sesh is about 7 minutes, right? Whatever. Let’s just call it ten minutes for the sake of this exercise. I’ve already illustrated why it’s hard to get just one free minute to take down the garbage, right? Okay, now, let’s pretend that somehow the universe aligns and you’re presented with ten minutes of free time. Here’s the shit that also needs to be in place for you to get laid (keep in mind, this is the ONLY WAY TO GET LAID ANYMORE) 1) you both have to be there. 2) there has to be a place you can go (like, your kids can’t be watching tv on your bed, for example) 3) you have to have enough energy to want to make it happen, as opposed to, say just wanting to sit there and drink beer/stare off into space/pass out. 4) You have to be clean enough that you’re not too disgusting (not as easy as it sounds) 5) the female, who’s just had a baby and who’s experiencing one of the most non-libidinous valleys that the human sex drive has to offer, needs to be okay with it (and she potentially won’t if, say, the trash needs to be taken down or something) and finally, 6) You gotta be prepared to jump off each other at any given moment when some kids walk in the room just so you don’t end up scaring them for life and turning them into the kinds of people who fill up storage units with dead hookers. And now you’ve got the nerve to ask for a blowjob?!?!?!?!?! What the fuck do you think this is, a poolside cabana at the Palms? Get on, get off and let’s get that garbage out of here, asshole.
Have a good one. I’m going to check on the baby.
Update: She’s ALIVE!!! Fuck. I just woke her up. Sigh.