Randi's out, kicking ass at the show Expressing Motherhood. I, David Serchuk, the Brooklyn Baby Daddy am home with two irritating cats, and a daughter that is sleeping like an angel. I almost wrong angle, but that would have made so little sense.
Yes, for those few, hardy long-time readers of this blog (hi Randi!), you read it right. Stella is sleeping peacefully, in her bedroom in our new apartment, still in Brooklyn. If you remember anything about the first year or so of her life, and of this blog, pretty much all I did was bitch about how little sleep we got. And we did! It was a hellish freaking nightmare, made much, much worse by the fact that none of our friends could relate to it. And every other parent we knew seemed to have one of those kids who just, "I don't what I did to deserve this luck!" passed out like Falstaff.
But over the past month or so, the BBB has gotten into this weird habit of, um, sleeping at night. It sounds strange right, I don't know what made her change her mind, because, god fucking knows, we didn't.
So all the way around parenting has been a lot more fun over the past month, September's been really nice in the city, crisp cool air, it's cool to wear my tweed blazer again, and the leaves have yet to turn. I always hate fall, it reminds of me of school, the end of fun and homework. But as it goes on I always in turn realize how much I love it too, the leaves, as I mentioned, not being crazy ass hot all the time, the Jewish New Year -- which I love -- Yom Kippur. A time for reflection, and renewal in a way. Not a time of death after all, or at least the gateway to death, but a time to think about things, and try to make things better.
Stella is 17 months old now, and walking and even running. She's getting friends at the playground, calls me "Dada" on a regular basis, eats like a horse, sits in my lap when I point to it, and is in general a total joy.
Randi has been much happier since going back to work part time. We've had to put Stella in daycare for two days a week, which I initially vowed I would never do, but it had to happen, because I wasn't all that into the idea of being Mr. Mom. In this economy that would quickly turn into Mr. Unemployed Mom.
But Stella-bella likes daycare, the women who work there tell me. She cries every time I drop her off, but I think it's because she misses me, not because she hates being there. Sometimes when Randi picks her up she's even in a good mood.
I wish I had all these funny, insightful things to say about being a dad, but tonight I just don't. I worked all day today, and took care of the kid by myself after Randi split, and it's been cool. The new place is very nice, albeit we're still moving into it. We might sue our old landlords for being such goddamned sonsabitches. And I hope our old upstairs neighbor, the noisy, rude, Russian one, get a case of never ending, bleeding anal fissures, capped with degenerative gum disease and that an AIDS-soaked rat masturbates into his nose. For starters.
But other than that, things are going great!