Daddy's Home!

I spent a day working from my daughter's house, keeping her son, Lincoln. She wrote out careful instructions about formula preparation, nap times, gave me verbal instructions about how to start their supper in the crockpot, and showed me where the additional diapers were located. There was a sense of uncertainty in her manner, but I am just going to chalk that up to her being a new mom and not me being an old dad. I am pretty familiar with the drill, we raised three, have two other grand kids that I have watched over, and I am a relatively bright and inventive guy. So around 7:30AM, she and Shane headed out the door. Next feeding at 9AM, no problem.

Mr. Lincoln was a little unsure of this entire event. He was supposed to be napping leading up to his 9AM feeding, but he seemed more intent on fussing. Apparently he was having some reflux issues (right there with you buddy) and was having a problem getting comfortable. So he fussed and fidgeted until the mid-morning breakfast. He slammed down the bottle, but was supposed to be up until 11AM, then down for a nap. I couldn't get him to settle, he kept complaining, then I realized he was acting sleepy, so after checking the schedule and realizing I was way off schedule, I put him down for a nap. Great, 2 hours into this and I'm off schedule by an hour. In the midst of all this, he had a rather large diaper-download, which prompted a change of diaper, pants, and numerous handi-wipes (by the way, Carrie, if you read this you are almost out of handi-wipes. I don't scrimp when it comes to handi-wipes)

Next feeding was supposed to be noon. Hmm, let him sleep? or wake him and get him back on schedule? After careful consideration, and since I was getting a lot of work done, I let him sleep. At 12:45 I could hear him fussing, so I went in and got him up and fed him his noon bottle promptly at 1:15. We seem to be losing ground on this schedule idea. Since he seemed pleasant enough, I sat him on my knee while working on the computer, where he became so enthralled, he down-loaded an even larger diaper load. Dude! Really? So off we go to change again, except this time, it was pants, onesy, diaper, socks, and the top of the changing table. Now I'm rummaging around in his drawer trying to find his next outfit. This causes great concern. My daughters have very strict views of what goes together and what doesn't. I'm off schedule, the baby is naked, and I am stuck trying to match baby outfits. I finally found a blue onsey, some blue pants, some blue socks. Okay..all good..all blue.

His scheduled nap is from 2PM to 4PM, it is now 3PM. Okay young man, you are going down for a nap. So I swaddled him in a blanket that is too small, but got it really tight, stuck his pacifier in his mouth, kissed on the forehead, gathered up an armload of diaper and handi-wipes and marched out of the room. He was asleep in minutes. Next event is feeding at 4PM.

The schedule ended at 4PM, neither parent home, the bottle is empty, so we just visited. He enjoyed the time, but I suspect that I was getting the looks I will get when he is 16 and I'm in the home..How much longer do I have to do this before someone else will come and deal with this old codger.

Then I was privileged to see something that I have witnessed a few times with our other son-in-law and experienced a lot of times. His daddy came home. His head came up, his eyes widened, he just smiled from ear to ear. He could not wait to get into his daddy's arms. And Shane brightened as well, held him close and kissed his forehead. Daddy was home, all is good, the world is spinning in the right direction.

I went home feeling warm and assured that my grandson was in good hands. It is the same feeling I get when I see our other grandchildren being cared for by our other son-in-law, it is the same feeling I will get when I see my son become the center of the universe for his little one. It is a feeling hard to describe, but priceless in its meaning.

Daddy's home. What a joy.

Godspeed out there to you daddy's, hug 'em close, they grow up fast.
Don