Wait... what week is it?

In the life of a stay-at-home parent there comes a time when you only know the day of the week because the school calls to ask why the child has not yet arrived.  Weeks blend into each other, and the day no longer matters as much as the time-of-day.

Remember when the oldest still napped?

 I haven't been doing this for very long, but it has happened. I can't remember if that thing that happened was yesterday, or last week, or happened to a friend of mine... and that's without the sleep deprivation that most mothers enjoy while Dad is catching a few zzz's under his desk at work. I didn't know "Stay-at-home-Dad-brain" was a thing. Maybe it isn't. Problem is I wouldn't remember anyway.

Whaddya mean it's not Hallowe'en?

Perhaps it's just the inevitable result of placating the toddler schedule daily, rather than embracing the onset of early-middle age by doing things that are more age-appropriate. My friends remind me that it's not normal to be out of the house "doing stuff" every day of the week. That the growing middle age spare tire is a natural way of God slowing us down. The laws of causality are often misinterpreted -- we should not be pushing through this degeneration, rather we should remind our children to do this part of parenthood earlier in their lives.

What??!! Oh that'll get me in trouble with the masses. 

Bear with me, this brief anecdote should explain a few things, and then you can go back to wishing you were younger when your children are hanging off your knees begging you to "play with them." I was 10 at my dad's 30th birthday party. Old enough to be helpful, but not too old to be any trouble. That made me 20 at his 40th. Old enough to be trouble, but young enough to think it was cool to be there with my girlfriend. That made me 30 at his 50th. Young enough to respect my elders, and old enough to keep my mouth shut... It really was the perfect system. He was my soccer coach for years, but as an adult, we often found ourselves on the same men's team. Did I find it awkward yelling for a pass from my Dad, yes... okay... but... I just started calling him by his first name, and people just started assuming he was my brother. He was the unruly one at my stag, and he still bikes 15km uphill to see his grandson during the week. 

Anyway... what's my point... I don't remember I'm a 33 year old stay at home dad. I'm about 10 years behind where I should be and the silver-streaks are getting clearer by the day. 

 By the way, my dad's birthday's just around the corner. I guess he has taught me something. I guess all that time was worth something. I guess I can be thankful I get all this time with my boys. 

 I think I'm gonna go make him a macaroni necklace.

Thanks Dad.