god damn

My wife went out. My turn to do bedtime solo. Me and the kids made paper airplanes. My older kid was pissed because she couldn’t get them to fly very far. It surprised me that you have to learn to throw a paper airplane. I looked up a hang-glider style paper airplane I remember from when I was a kid. I found a youtube video for a style of paper airplane that won some world record, probly for geekiness. I made the plane. My kid flew it all the way across our house. “I’m even better at flying this one than you Daddy!” “You sure are, baby.” “Make me a paper hat now.” I looked that up. My younger kid had a total meltdown because the origami gemstone wasn’t jewelry. “I’ll figure out how to do this tonight and we can work on it tomorrow.” “Okay.” We get off the computer. I get the little one’s pajamas and diaper on. We all read books together. I pick up both girls and carried them while I danced and sang them Weakerthans songs. That’s our bedtime ritual when they go to bed, though usually one at a time. My back was aching. The littlest fell asleep. I put the big one down in her bed. She climbed in the big bed. I laid down. (I’ve been practicing Turkish Get Ups and my pitch in favor of them is that the second half of the exercise is the body motion you need when you have a sleeping kid on your chest and you want to lay down backward without waking the kid up.) The little one woke up slightly but not all the way. I lay on my back and rocked slightly left and right, twisting my torso and hips. I counted down slowly from one hundred. She settled back to sleep. My big kid snuggled into my shoulder, rolled over, rolled over again, whispered “I’m bored.” “It’s bedtime. Time to sleep.” “I’m not sleepy.” “You can get up and read books then, just be quiet.” “I want to read in here.” “No, you’ll wake your sister,” who then shifted, starting to wake up. “I’ll read quietly.” “No, and please stop arguing with me, the noise of arguing is going to wake her up.” “You’re the one arguing and making noise.” “Just be quiet.” “SHHHH!” loudly, and the little one woke up crying “mama! mama!” I sat up and totally lost it. “THERE! SHE’S AWAKE. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? THAT’S WHAT YOU DID. I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN GET HER BACK TO SLEEP NOW. YOU WOULDN’T STOP TALKING LIKE I ASKED YOU TO YOU HAD TO JUST KEEP ARGUING WITH ME AND NOW SHE’S AWAKE.” While I’m shouting she is saying “I’m sorry Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake her up, I’m sorry, you’re going to make it harder for her to go back to sleep, I’m sorry.” “I need to be away from you right now, I’m really angry.” I carry the baby to the kitchen, rock her again, feel my back twinge again, count down from one hundred again. I get to 85, my big kid’s in the living room looking at books. “I’m sorry I shouted, I shouldn’t have done that, and I forgive you about your sister waking up.” “It’s okay.” She hugs me. I think of my parents shouting, individually and as a pair, too many incidents to name, just a memory chorus of shouts. I hope I’m not laying a similar set of memories for my kid. I remember last weekend when I went in to work. “I thought today was a weekend day.” “It is but I have to work today.” Her face falls for a second, then she says “we’ll play tonight.” I remember wondering if this was sincere optimism or her play-acting for me. I apologize again for shouting. “It’s okay,” she says casually, smiles, back to her book. I lay the baby down. She wakes up again. I almost start to cry. It went so well the first time but now I can’t set her down. I pick her back up, rock her, she’s asleep again, I lay her down, she stays asleep. I walk to the living room. “I’m hungry.” I get her a snack. We had too light a dinner, delicious soup but not enough protein. I gripe about this, see myself do it, like myself less. I got five hours sleep last night because the baby’s got a cold. This is a low for the week in a week of low sleep. I’m behind on work this week because behind on sleep, slow mentally, distracted, angry all the time, more than usual. Fuck. I try to turn that off while I fix my kid her snack. The baby wakes up again. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” “Uh huh.” She has a snack with her sister. They finish eating, we brush teeth. My big one says “can we all dance together again?” “No honey, my back hurts. If I can get your sister to sleep I’ll dance with you again, okay?” “Okay.” I sing the baby to sleep, lay down with her, she doesn’t wake up. My big girl snuggles up to my shoulder again. I pat her hair, hold her hand, say “I love you.” “I love you too.” I fall asleep, wake up to hear my wife’s key in the front door lock, look at my big kid, feel relieved she’s asleep now. I get up, watch a few youtube videos on how to fold a diamond out of paper, think why the fuck did I agree to this? I can’t do this.