Fatherhood is facing your deepest fears, most embarrassing anecdotes, worst nightmares. . . and having kids regardless so your kids can experience everything opposite.
This last month has entailed a lot of monotony. We can't really go anywhere or do anything all that interesting because Zoey just requires too much constant attention and she doesn't handle changes to her routine, such as it is, very well at all.
Days primarily consist of me working on freelance writing projects in the basement while my wife tries to keep family life together upstairs. It can be tough working in the basement when I can hear my toddler son running around and chanting "Dah-dee! Dah-dee!" It's like trying to concentrate while my heart strings are being manipulated like a marionette through the basement ceiling.
Thankfully, the freelance feast and famine cycle is currently in feast mode. I literally have more projects on my plate than I can sometimes keep straight in my head, but that's hardly a complaint. Still, I'm keeping my eye out for standard full-time employment gigs just to enjoy some semblance of security and routine again, even though during the feast freelance times I actually make more money than at any job I've ever held. The famine times, obviously, are a different story. Hence the need for a bit more employment stability.
The NICU months are gradually fading from my mind. Not disappearing, since they'll never do that, but the finer details are starting to jettison like sparks from a campfire. In particular, the sounds like the alert beeps and alarms are strangely forgotten, although I could hear one right now and feel my heart rate tick up a couple of beats a minute. I still conjure them in my dreams from time to time.
If I really wanted to torture myself, I suppose I could make the alarm sound my cell phone ringtone.
I had to edit the longer waving video from Zoey's "Coming Home" movie, because this was too cute/hilarious as a standalone clip:
Freelance writing at home is great and all, but when you can hear your toddler boy through the basement ceiling chanting "Dah-deeeee! Dah-deeeee!" it takes every fiber of your being not to go rocketing up the stairs to play with the little guy.
As nice as it is to have the whole family under one roof, it's surprisingly more difficult than you'd think. Until we figure out the riddle that is Zoey's eating difficulties, things will continue to be chaotic as hell.
But, hell at home beats hell at a hospital any day, every day.