Consequences

A big change when you have a child is that most of the time your actions are dictated by their needs. Pre-Fuss I usually went to bed around 1am and got up around 9:30, just in time for a quick shower and brisk stroll to work. Post-Fuss- once he started sleeping for more than 45 minutes at a stretch anyway- I'm a stereotypical early to bed, early to riser.

When he was getting up REALLY early, like 4:30-5am, I would usually just pass out alongside him at night. He's improved over time and these days 7:30 is the usual. We get up together and do our thing, make breakfast, eat together & then he usually wants to watch a show and I take the opportunity to clean the kitchen and check the book orders.

And that works great, as long as I don't do anything to short circuit the sequences. Fuss wants more or less the same things every morning at the usual time and in the usual way. He'll throw in little variations now and then, but they're incremental.

I'm the problem.
Sometimes I want to have more than one drink, stay up past curfew and enjoy a spot of adult conversation. But with Fuss, being even slightly off your game courts disaster.

Let us consider this morning's events.

After a delightful evening of pulled pork, fine wine & bad Japanese monster movies over at Auntie Burl & Uncle Timmys I was inclined to sleep in a bit this morning. The wife was kind enough to crawl out and set Fuss up on the couch with a couple of his buenies and the Backyardigans, allowing us a pleasantly extended interlude of dozing.

But while Fuss seemed content enough with his blankies and his show, it wasn't Breakfast-Show-Get Dressed. You know, the way we do it.

So it's almost time for 'school' (his Monday Parent Participation class) and we get up to make belated preparations. The toilet was acting up and for some reason the plunger was downstairs. I asked the Wife about it, so Fuss wanted to see what was going on and charged in. I grabbed him & said "NO!" as he was reaching for the edge of the bowl, which wasn't tremendously sanitary.

And he freaked out, like he does when he thinks he's been 'bad'. He started wailing, ran into the bedroom and accidentally-on-purpose banged his head into the edge of his play table. Which is a thing he does lately. It like he thinks he needs a reason to cry, so he creates one.

"I hurt my head! I hurt my head!" he howled.

I picked him up and explained he hadn't done anything bad, I just didn't want him grabbing the toilet because it was messy.

"I WANT MAMA! I WANT MAMA!"

And on through a 15 minute freakout that extended through my shower and continued until I installed him in the carseat with all of his buenies.
Except for Tiny Buenie, which we couldn't find, triggering a fresh bout of wailing.

So, that's a roundabout explanation for why I'll nearly always opt for turning in early, not having that extra drink & passing on a late showing of Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People.


Too much down side.