Anyone else fondly remember those
days of binge-watching through massive DVD sets in order to see your favorite
show to completion? This is even more unlikely, but who remembers that time
when the only way to see every episode of your favorite show was to watch it live?
If you missed it, then you were likely out of luck.
Yes, I do agree that was a
terrible time for all mankind. Now, through the beauty of technology, I can
watch as many episodes of 'The Office' in one sitting as my little brain can
handle. In case you're wondering, the max for yours truly seems to be about
three. More than that and I can literally feel my brain turning to mush.
I'm not to the series finale of 'The Office' yet (on this watch-through) but today I found myself
thinking about a quote from a wise sage named Andy Bernard (aka Ed Helms) as seen in that episode.
That quote reads as follows: "I wish there was a way to know you're in "the good old days", before you've
actually left them." I know this is
seemingly a random transition but hang in there and I promise to get to my
point.
Flashback
to about three weeks ago which coincidentally coincides with Bethany's and my
decision to transform Ellie's crib to a toddler bed. As you may or may not
remember, Ellie had begun to channel her inner Ninja Warrior and scale out of
her crib on a normal basis, falling to the floor below.
While the
actual deconstruction of the crib wasn't the hard part, the adjusting period
for Miss Ellie was. In fact, it became a normal state of affairs for me to end
up prone on a couch with my daughter fast asleep on my chest for hours (yes,
hours). I can read your thoughts now. "Oh
no, poor guy is stuck on a couch. His life must be so hard." And yes,
that statement was pretty much dripping with sarcasm.
Truthfully,
this was something that was getting to me as I pretty much felt zero sense of
accomplishment in knowing that I spent about 1/4 of my "work day"
trapped and unable to do anything. Fortunately, Ellie adjusted to her new bed
within a week and a half thereby restoring my sense of accomplishment (or lack
thereof) to my day.
At least
that had been the case until today. After only napping in her crib for 40
minutes, Ellie awoke from her slumber to the accompaniment of dramatic screams.
Like any good parent would, I bounded up the stairs to retrieve Ellie from her
room before she hurt herself beating her head against the door. Now, obviously
Ellie needed more sleep than 40 minutes so I retreated to the couch, laid Ellie
on my chest, and lulled her back to sleep.
Here's
where Mr. Bernard comes into play. As I laid there trapped by Ellie's 25-pound
frame, I began to realize just how much I'd missed those times of her snuggling
close even though it'd only been a little over a week. I also found myself wondering
just how many of those naps together the two of us would have left.
 |
| "Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, little baby." |
Boy, was
that a super sobering thought. All of this time, I had considered this
arrangement to be a total inconvenience not realizing just how special of a
time it was. My daughter, for as sweet as she can be, isn't really one to
snuggle and here I had hours to just lay there with her sleeping peacefully in
my arms.
Honestly,
it made me wonder just how many other things I've been needlessly irritated
about that I'll miss when it's gone. It also makes me less apt to wish away
parts of the all-too-brief times that I will have with her.
Now, I
have something to ask of you, dear readers. Make sure you remind me of this
post when I inevitably start complaining about some stage of Ellie's life and
how I can't wait for it to end. Doesn't matter if it's napping on my chest, potty
training, teaching her how to do math, or training her how to properly assemble
and eat a soft shell taco. It's likely all will eventually be part of the good old days.
As I said,
I only get 18 years with her under my roof. I need to make sure I'm enjoying
all of it. Or, you know, at least 95% of it. #DaddyWrite
No comments:
Post a Comment