Tuesdays with Sadie: I'm probably Einstein.

6:40 A.M. Receive a series of instructions from S about various events that will take place during the day. Ignore. Attempt to shove pillow over face in order to avoid more talking. This may or may not have happened.

7:20 A.M. It's time to wake little s up. She is grinning at herself in the mirror we've put in her crib. I encourage her vanity by smiling at how cute she is. Vanity is a good thing, I think I remember learning in my confirmation classes.

8:40 A.M. s goes down for a nap. S calls me and regales me with facts about electricians and other things that I try not to listen to because I am trying to sleep.

8:42 A.M. The milk man, yeah that's right we have one, knocks on the door to tell me he doesn't have enough room for all the milk we've requested. Even though I'm really annoyed about the fact that I won't be getting a nap I'm pretty excited about our continuing goal of stocking up on milk in preparation for it becoming the new gold standard.

S: You know, if you're just sitting around during the day you can mash up a banana and feed it to her.

M: Listen to me. If I ever decide to break up whatever good rhythm s and I have going on to mash up a banana and feed it to her, you can mash up my face.

S: What do you mean? Eventually she'll need to eat more.

M: Then maybe she should learn to talk and tell us when she's hungry.

(Pause)

M: Parent of the year.

11:00 A.M. I strap s in the car and take her to the doctor. The whole visit is pending an disagreement s and I had about whether her crying was due to normal teething symptoms, (mine), or some sort of catastrophic and mind altering ear infection, (hers).

M: I think she's going to be okay.

S: I know you don't want to hear this but that's typical of dad's. They just think it's going to be all right.

M: I'll bet you twenty bucks that it's not an ear infection.

And because I'm the dad taking his daughter out for the first time officially alone I entirely forget her diaper bag, and start worrying about whether the nurse will want to weight s or not. And if it takes place in public like the first time we brought her in, like in this hallway right in front of the nurses station, and if she'll have a poopy diaper. All the while I'm trying to rehearse what I'll say to the nurse/wondering what other parents think of me just wandering into a pediatric care group minus a diaper bag, like a jackass. And then wondering if she's pooped herself. What do I do if that's the case? (For some reason I never smelled to check, probably hoping for dumb luck) And wondering how long it was since I'd changed her, and wondering if they had extra diapers around and wipes, or if I'd just have to put the poopy diaper think back on her with all these nurses, mothers of four most, watching and judging me, not to mention the other new moms standing around with babies or God forbid, the occasional other dads, I saw one, with a diaper bag held over one shoulder and with not one but two kids but handling the whole thing like an old pro. The bastard.

11:37 A.M. She has a poopless diaper. I love my daughter.

Aside

8:13 P.M.

S: How did her appointment go?

M: Just fine.

S: (somehow intuitively knowing without any reason for actually knowing) Did your remember the diaper bag?

M: Nope. Just plain forgot it.

Aside: I won the twenty bucks. Apparently s crying and running a slight fever is pretty much standard for a baby teething. I told you so. The good bedrock of every marriage.

2:20-3:30-A friend stops by to babysit. Yay! Thank you! I head out to Whole Foods because even though I've got a low paying job at an academic library I still fancy myself as one day becoming a yuppie and learning how to tie my sweater over the back of my collared shirt and playing tennis at a country club. I spend the first few minutes trying to buy organic vegetables and learning in the process that every vegetable at Whole Foods is labeled as conventional or organic, and I'm amazed and ashamed that I've never noticed this before. Although I'm trying to do the local thing farmer's market, creamery etc. , which is even more bad ass and like a considerate version of a yuppie but still aspiring. Then I buy a lot of meat because we eat that now. And yes, Michael Pollan, I hunted down the cow that I bought and got all my chickens from Joel Salatin. They were wonderful. Stupid world always making me feel guilty for everything.

Aside: Sometimes I worry that facebook isn't changing enough, and I'll send out like five e-mails to the higher ups so that they understand that I count on facebook to periodically change for no discernible reason. This is a core value in my life.

4:00 Why are you bored? Look at all these toys? You've got like seven different varieties of teething rings. When I was a boy all you had was the edge of your crib. That's why kids from back then learned to stand up faster. And look at this giraffe. Look at it. The thing like disinfects itself after every use and is French. Do you think we had French giraffes when I was a kid. No. We had a hand me down horse that had been gnawed on by other kids for fifteen years or so. And you have the audacity to be bored? Here's a stick. Yeah, that's right, now it's a sword. Welcome to childhood. You want to go in a jumperoo? What? You're not happy there either? Can't you see that I'm trying to make you happy? Ingrate.


S: Is he (John Krasinski) still dating that Rashida Jones chick?

M: I don't know. I lost track of his life after he did that DFW movie? He did a DFW movie called Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.

S: I know. We watched it together.

M: Oh, sorry. I just figure if it was something artsy and cultural that I was probably the one doing it while you read a baby book in the background or (noticing that she's not paying attention to the monologue but is gazing at our bottom sheet) just worrying about our sheets.

S: (Throws sheet on top of the computer). (Pause). Somebody has to worry about our sheet.

5:50 P.M. After fussing, shi- who says fussing? Why do I now say fussing? That's not my thing. She was whining for an hour or so, and I have her sitting behind me while I prepare a variety of things to grill, and I'm talking to her the whole time and suddenly she decides that me shucking a piece of corn is extremely funny and starts laughing. And it occurs to me that what she's probably laughing at is the great demeaning that's taking place, one of the greatest minds of the age destined to spend the day shucking corn. Then I realized that maybe she was just tired and feeling a bit loopy. At that point, we both got a little sad, but we didn't need to say anything. It was one of those things where you just know that the other person is feeling the same way as you and you can just shuck the corn in silence without having to talk about the lack of predicted rain, or the flowers blown down in the yard. Yeah, I got you man, her toothless smile seemed to say.