Daddy and me ... day one-half

So after much trepidation this day arrived. It sounds strange typing such a word, because this is my daughter, that I'm privileged to play with over the next eleven weeks. And I am. But I have never had this type of responsibility before in my entire life. And it seems those people who know me the most are the ones shoving me two-handed into this bus of accountability. Are you people crazy?!

As if to prove my point I had my first test as a weakened-heart parent during my first HOUR on the job. I finally finished up the school year this morning; room emptied, keys turned in, and bags packed. By lunch time I was finishing up lunch, Jill was kissing us goodbye, and Megan and I stared at each other and waited to see who would blink first. It was never a fair fight. She gave me a gummy grin, I blinked, and without saying a word, I knew the balance of power had shifted.

So, as the loser, I changed her diaper, fed her, and held her. She began to drift off to sleep and I placed her in the swing, content that I had survived my job as parent. Nothing to this. Seeing she was asleep I got a drink, splayed out on the couch, and grabbed last month's Esquire in an attempt to catch up on magazine reading before school starts next year. Ten minutes or so ticked by and I looked up at her.

(Mom ... don't panic. She's fine.)

I'll try to explain it from a detached perspective now that time has passed. When I looked over, her head was crumpled into her chest and her body looked limp. I'm scared to even type what I thought had happened. I jolted from the couch screaming her name. She quivered and tried to prop her head up, and the blood immediately started coursing through me again. For the next hour she did nothing but sleep on my chest as I clutched her, cursing my incompetence. But she was fine, in hindsight her body was no more than slightly in the fetal position, but seeing the awkwardness of her shape made me jump. On the one hand this is a great lesson for me to be prepared and monitoring her over the next few months, but it will also probably keep me from granting her that separation time from me that I think both of us need. I can't watch her every second of the day ... I'll go insane. Which is why I'm even sharing this story. I want Megan to know her dad is a putz, and he always has been. I want you to know that it's not all rainbows and smiles. And I want myself to know my feelings of this day and how I never want to have these feelings of inadequacy again. 

That's why today doesn't count. I'm taking a mulligan on this afternoon because this is not how our summer of fun is commencing, with dad having a heart attack and being all clingy, and showering her with kisses she probably doesn't understand why she was getting. 

Instead, we will start fresh tomorrow ... at 3 am. With kisses.