Monday, January 16th, 2012
I’m not actually bipolar, nor do I suffer from depression, but I’m willing to admit that if you observed my interactions with my son, you would see a different version of me on Wednesday as compared to Sunday.
During the weekdays, I just can’t get enough of my son. I think about him constantly. I look at his picture on my desk. I just want to hold him and kiss him and wrestle with him.
Then the weekend comes, and by Saturday evening, I’ve had my fill. I’m mentally spent.
The lack of a pause button, the inability to have a real conversation with my wife unless our son is asleep, the need for a moment to space out… it leads me to a state of insanity that doesn’t let up until Monday morning when I’m driving to work.
Man, I wish I could live in a world where there was a reasonable balance.
During the workweek, I barely have any quality time with him. Then during the weekend, it doesn’t feel much different because of all the housework and errands that have to get done.
So I guess here’s wishing for heaven on Earth. Or at least a version of reality where neither my wife nor I have to work but could just stay home with him all day. Where our son would take completely predictable naps on a definite schedule and where there was no stress on our part to get him to sleep.
Sounds like I’m not referring to a kid at all, but instead a programmable robotic puppy.
That’s the problem with reality. You can’t turn real life on and off.
Likewise, you can’t turn real love on or off.