Scaredy-Cat.

Sam probably thinks I’m nuts.  Every time she asks me to look after Ivy I stall.  I look around, hoping to find something to distract her from this dangerous line of questioning.

I hum, haw, tap my foot.  Get antsy.

Now, keep this in mind.  It’s not cause I don’t like to, or don’t want to.

Straight up, it’s because I’m scared.   I’m not sure what I’m scared of exactly, but Stephen @ Live Granades in an old post summed it up succinctly:

“Each time I keep him I think, this is the time that I’ll feel like I know what I’m doing. So far, that hasn’t happened. I need some kind of manual. I can’t believe people let me take care of this person even though I don’t have a clue about what I’m doing.”

You’d think there would be licenses for parenthood.  I drive a car, and I had to get a license to do that – c’mon, I could kill someone if I didn’t know what I was doing.

And somehow, raising a kid is different?  Whoah!

And in the spirit of honesty, I must do alright.  Everytime Sam has come home Ivy has been alive and well.  I can manage diaper changes and whining, and crying and cartoons and buckets for hats and growling and everything.  I can manage hours if she’s (Sam) in bed, and there if I need her, and usually, I don’t.

But to be left alone with a child who I am supposed to be responsible for?  Scary.

And next March, we have 2.  Somehow I imagine it’s going to be more than twice as hard, and scary to match.

…Just Sayin.

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One response to “Scaredy-Cat.

  1. Fear not! I did it and so can you. Have you made Ivy throw up yet – probably not. When I was dating Lisa and was left alone with Kirsten I had the bright idea of blowing some bubbles. Brilliant! kids love bubbles right.

    So I get a small bowl of water and add some dish soap. Now i’ve got a problem, I need some sort of circular doughnut like object from which to blow bubbles with. Ah… a straw that might work. So I try blowing bubbles with a straw – which bye the way does not work all that well. So the straw let me down and I go in search of something else.

    Upon setting out on my search Kirsten promptly picks up the straw and uses it to inhale the soapy water. Then she promptly throws up all over my girlfriend’s parents living room.

    She was fine – I cleaned things up and no one was the wiser – well maybe I’m a little wiser but I’d likely make a similar mistake… so no one is the wiser. Things have a way of working themselves out – I married, we have two more kids and I have yet to send any of them to an early grave.

    From one harrassed father to another – hang in there.

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