I've Never Been Drunk, But I Imagine It's A Lot Like Having A Colicky Baby...

I've never been drunk, but I imagine it's a lot like having a colicky baby. Well, let's hold on a second, back up, and give a little bit of an explanation. So my wife was blessed to go back to work a while back and do part time. She's a nurse and works second shift, 7 pm-7 am, two days a week. We're actually pretty lucky as the two days she works coincides with my days off. This means that two nights a week I'm responsible for giving our son a bath, going through the bed time routine, and help send him off to sweet sweet dream land. It's quite a noble quest, one which a pantheon of parents before me have attempted and, ye verily, have even succeeded. However, while this is the goal, it is hardly ever the actual outcome...enter the drinking analogy.

So our night starts out with two close bros, a bottle of special drink (mommy's home brew), high hopes, and endless possibilities. But by about three hours in we're both crying, one of us has thrown up all over the place, and the other is tired, dazed, confused, and wishing he could start the night all over again, desperately looking towards the morning. It is about 3 am and we're 30 minutes into a second colic crying fit and I'm starting to have a new found respect for my wife who usually deals with this little mean drunk. The night goes by in a massive blur filled with frustration and regret. By the time its all over with we're both passed out wherever our heads happened to land last. I am so, so very weak...and my wife is the strongest woman I know.

I can barely get through a mere two nights, how on earth does my wife manage the other five?! I am quite literally begging for her to tag me out the moment she gets home from work. It's as if I'm a luchador wrestler that's fighting WAY outside of my weight class...which is saying something cause I'm kinda a big guy. Like I said, she's strong. I'm often jealous of how great my wife actually is with our littleman. It seems to be so natural and enjoyable for her. I know she has her struggles, but she carries them with such grace. She plays with him, reads to him, does "tummy time," constantly narrates her activities to include him in what she's doing, and somehow manages to carry him on her hip and successfully accomplish any task including cooking and cleaning single handedly. I on the other hand am lucky to walk straight, remember to feed myself, and constantly test the limits of my bladder while watching our little tyke, Thank God for good moms. My wife and own mom included. The Lord knows us dads could not possibly survive without them, nor could our children.

One of the hardest things about dealing with a difficult baby is not sounding like a jerk or a wimp to other parents who do not know what we're going through. I know I'm not a super star parent. I mean, come on, the name of this blog is "One Bad Dad" but I'm not a weenie. I thank God my son has ten fingers and ten toes and is healthy, intestinal pain aside. Every child has their challenges, or so I assume. Maybe you've been through what I'm going through, or maybe you're one of those evil parents that when they ask me how it's going and I have the strength to answer honestly you brag about how junior is seemingly perfect. Either way we all have our challenges in parenthood...if it's not happened yet, just wait, it'll eventually come. Just remember though, until it does, cut your fellow brothers and sisters in arms a break. And the next time I see you and have a heavy 5 o'clock shadow, stained t-shirt, and staggered demeanor know that it wasn't from a hard night of partying, but of parenting.