Nappy Time

You'll note I pretty much always write a blog entry on Thursday. That's the day I'm alone with Jack, and it's the day there's usually the most to write about, or the day I need the cathartic release of the day's action-packed events by clearing some stuff out of my head that evening.

Jack's nap usually starts sometimes between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m., lasting in the neighborhood of two hours. That's pretty much the only time I have to get things done on Thursday, so naturally, I spend it sprawled on the sofa with an ice pack against my forehead. No, no. Actually...

11:01. Jack's down for his nap. He was getting pretty cranky, so although I'd like his nap to come around 12-12:30, which is when it's scheduled at day care, you can't fight certain things too much. Food, beverage, story time, his new favorite toy ("Fun Fair")....they've all lost their interest and the boy just wants to sleep. So I put him down and after some token resistance ("Ah-huh! Ah-huh! Ah....zzzzzzz") to sleep he goes.

11:10. After verifying that, as usual, there's nothing on TV, I head out to the kitchen to put away the breakfast dishes and put non-dishwasher safe stuff in the sink, to be washed while Jack is having his lunch. No question I'm overly paranoid, but I'm not going to make too much noise during the nap since I want it to last.

11:15. I check my email, make sure there have been no major events in the world of sports to track, and upload some recent photos of Jack to Kodakgallery.com.

11:20. I do about half an hour of work for my main employer, Fantasy Index. Their annual magazine goes to press in a couple of months, and I'm writing a lot of it this year, including everything defense-related. This means keeping track of all the offseason player transactions so I don't inadvertently connect some second-string defensive tackle with the wrong franchise. I get most of this work done for them on days I'm NOT home alone with Jack, but I'm starting to feel the deadlines approaching and trying to get some stuff done.

11:45. I go outside to put a box in recycling and Charlie bounds down the steps with me. I throw the tennis ball with him for about 10 minutes. He could probably do it all day; at least, I've yet to see him NOT chase a ball once thrown. It's fun playing fetch with him; he comes back all happy, ball bulging out of the side of his mouth, resists letting me take it for a moment or two, and then starts bounding after the ball before it's even left my hand.

12:00. I come inside to watch the NFL Network's 2006 NFL Schedule show, a two-hour program during which they'll dramatically release the schedule that will be available online in a few minutes anyway. I watch 10 minutes of a largely incoherent program in which Rich Eisen and ex-Lions coach Steve Mariucci, with the full schedule on papers in front of them, nonetheless jump all over the place from week to week, only mentioning certain games. It's totally useless unless you're only interested in random moments of the season: "In week 3, the Patriots face Denver in a title game rematch...Then in week 5, Terrell Owens returns to Philadelphia as a member of the Dallas Cowboys. The excitement really goes up a notch in week 11, when...." Disgusted, I turn back to my current favorite music station, XM Radio's love songs, which plays a lot of songs from the 70s by the Bee Gees, Barry Manilow, and other songs that you know all the words to in spite of yourself.

12:15. Tearing up a little over the profound lyrics of Billy Joel's "Honesty," I make myself a ham and cheese sandwich and pour a glass of milk. We get milk delivered each week so I feel compelled to drink much more of it than I ordinarily would, otherwise it goes bad and we have to throw it out.

12:25. I walk quietly around the house picking up Jack's toys. This is of course a temporary fix; once he's awake they'll be strewn all over creation within minutes. Regardless, it makes me feel good so I do it. Plus I like putting the masts and little first mate, who I call Smee after the first mate in Peter Pan, back onto the pirate ship. I put the mermaid in the vicinity of the Captain, who I call Blackbeard (he has a black beard, natch), because I think he'd probably be the one with the best chance of getting anywhere with her.

12:35. I finish the Sudoku puzzle in the morning's paper. I did most of it this morning. I'm a little bit addicted, but I think I'm starting to break the habit. It bothers me to think that theoretically they could run the exact same puzzles every week and I wouldn't even know.

12:43. Sounds of stirring from Jack's room. I frown; it's too early. Two hours is really the minimum we're shooting for here.

12:44. Now he's talking. "Hi!" "Uh-Oh!" "Ommy...?" In the early days of his waking up and or wailing when we wanted him to still be sleeping, I'd say to Emmy, "He's saying, 'I'm sleeping, I'm sleeping."

12:46. Crying now. Nappy time is over.

I go in; he's standing at the bars of the crib pointing to the floor. "Shoes! Shoes." "Yes, those are your shoes all right." This is one of his new favorite words. And it's just as well he sees them and wants to put them on - I have to add that he also occasionally tries to put on MY shoes, or Emily's shoes, which is hilarious - because with his nap behind him, lousy weather outside, and 5 hours until Emmy's home, you can bet he and I will be getting out of the house to go to the mall or something. And so we do.