The life and trials of a single Dad (day 1)

Yesterday morning at 8:00, Chayale left to Stavropol to pack up our stuff and say our goodbyes. She went with her mother, and they flew together from JFK. To cut me some slack, two of Chayale's sisters arrived in montreal yesterday morning.

The first day was easy, and I had lots of help. After the kids went to bed, I finally understood Chayale's complaints about how she cleans all day. I spent roughly two hours cleaning the house after a large supper in our apartment with my sister and Shaindel and Sara (Chayale's sisters).

I also gave the kids a bath. When I put them to slep, I felt like a good Tatty.

But day 1 doesn't count. Everyone knows that. I wasn't expecting what day 2 had to offer.

I awoke at 6:30. The kids were giggling in their beds, so I got up and made myself a coffee humming a happy tune. I was going to be Superdaddy!

After a while Miriam came out of the room to say good morning, and I went inside to get Chaim. I reached inside his crib and recoiled. It was like a poop grenade had gone off. Mental sirens blared in my brain, and missiles of stench clouded my nose. It was a teething poop (you Tattys and Mommys out there are nodding your heads sadly, while you kid-muggles are trying to imagine what it could possibly smell like. Burning tuna? Moldy dustballs?). (Side note: I wonder what alligator poops smell like when they teethe).

It was not just a regular run of the mill teething diaper in which you run around the house opening all the windows and boiling lemons. This was diarrhea teething poop. And it was all over his crib. Thank G-d it didn't get on his pillow, because I have no idea how to clean that (can you put pillows in the washing machine? what about the dryer? if so, how come you never see pillows on clotheslines?)

I found some wipes and used them all cleaning him off. Oh, did I mention that the LITTLE KAKKER SQUIRMED THE ENTIRE FRIEKING TIME I WAS CHANGING HIM AND GOT HIS HANDS FULL OF POOP?

Then I threw all his stuff into the washing machine, dumped a ton of detergent in there, and turned it on hot.

Then I went outside to the back porch and ran down a couple of steps.

Finally, I inhaled air once again.

That was my morning. I stress that I was calm throughout. I fed them a nutricious breakfast of hot oatmeal and peas, followed with a bottle of orange juice. Then I dressed them (actually Miriam pretty much dressed herself. She refused to wear the shirt Chayale had set aside for her, and chose a different one which people tell me actually matched).

(Side note: Chayale actually got these large ziploc bags and put 7 different pairs of clothes in each of them, so that I won't dress Miriam in a non-matching outfit. apparently last time she had left me with Miriam back when we were in Stavropol, the local women had snorted vodka out their noses from giggleing when Chayale asked them how I had dressed Miriam. And if the Russian women thought I couldn't match her outfits...)

I brought Miriam to school, read her a book and went to work. Easy peasy.

I came home to find plumbers in our apartment. The Samamas bathroom ceiling had caved in (perhaps from the overwhelming smell of Chaim's morning gift). Did I mention that they live under us?

So Ronjon, our Bangladeshi landlord (and a nice guy to boot) was there fixing it up. He pulled out a clip that we use for Chaim's hair, and explained that it had blocked the pipe, thereby causing all the damage.

No more clips in the bathtub, I guess. He also installed something in the drain that catches stuff so our tub is now more babyproof (96%).

Ronjon told us that until tomorrow morning, we cannot use the bathtub. This was a dilemma, because tonight was my mothers turn to make supper, and she had called to say that the spaghetti and meatballs was almost ready.

Spaghetti and meatballs equals bath time. I mean, even I have to take a bath after slurping the long pasta which always somehow winds up wacking me in the back of my neck like a whip and leaving tomato sauce stains on my hair. So vacuum night is bad time to have no bath allowed.

And no, I wasn't going to bathe Miriam in the sink.

Not even the fleishig one.

I remained calm and collected, and decided then and there to bring them to my parents house. This worked out well, since I was able to run out to Walmart to buy more diapers while Chayale's sisters put soap in the kids' faces. I had also made my own diaper bag, in which I had put their pyjamas. Superdad!

I had a funny incident in Walmart. The lines were long. Real long. So I hit an idea, thanks to my mother. Why not go to the pharmacy and pay there? Problem is, I need to buy something pharmaceuticalish.

There was no line, and I quickly looked around, and saw some tea.

"Great", I thought. "We don't have any tea at home."

So I took some 'sleepy time' tea, and brought it (with the diapers) to the counter. In order to make it seem like I was really interested in buying the tea and the diapers were a side thing, I asked the woman if there was any caffiene in the tea.

She looked at the box.

"It is called sleepy time," she remarked. "But let me ask the guy in the back."

Turns out it has no caffiene. Marked in large letters on the top of the box. But hey, she let me buy the diapers as well.

As I was leaving, she said to me, "I hope you sleep better tonight."

When I got into the car (Estys), I looked in the mirror and saw that I have purple bags under my eyes.

Am I really that tired?

Written at 4:45 AM.

Just kidding.