Ep. 5: A little worn for the wear

Milo gets his first band-aid.

Monday, March 18, 2013:

I had a little trouble finding a seat this morning.

Although I left at 7:20 as usual, this time l smugly decided to stroll to the station, rather than stride.

Lo and behold, when the train blew its horn, as it always does when it turns the bend around Peekskill Bay, I was still on the wrong side of the tracks. This meant doing double-time.

Thus, I descended the stairs from the bridge just as the train pulled into the station.  I didn't board toward the front of the train as usual, which made it harder to find a seat. Or at least, to find a seat that would give me all that I yearned for at 7:30 on a Monday morning—a little redeeming peace and quiet.

I initially thought I had found one, but Rosie O’Donnell and her friend were sitting across the aisle and she kept laughing and saying, "How ya doing? How ya doing?" It was simply too early for such squawking, so I decided to switch seats before settling in.

This was our second weekend in the house and Chelsea was working and Adela was off, meaning I had to continue getting the house in order, while minding Milo at the same time.

Being that Milo is now standing confidently, he is into opening drawers, turning on stoves and grabbing anything and everything that is within reach. He also loves throwing things— fire starter logs, dishes, bottles, food.

As anyone with a one-year-old boy can likely attest, trying to sort through dozens of boxes, carry them upstairs two flights and organizing the aftermath of a whole house move is not a good companion to babysitting.

Nonetheless and allthemore, I was able to organize the kitchen, finish inserting all the four dozen safety outlet plugs throughout the house, create two stacks of boxes—one for the basement,  the other for upstairs, all of which I would move as soon as Chelsea returned and I could hand over the baby.

Somehow I fit in three diaper changes; making and sitting down for a brunch and a late lunch for Milo and I; putting down Milo for a late morning-into-afternoon nap; getting down on the floor to play ball with the boy, after he guilted me into tossing the ball back to him with his "Papa, why aren't you playing with me?" look; and also applying his first band-aid, after he fell chin first on the kitchen tile while crawling to catch a car racing ahead of him.

Whew.

Milo’s alright, he took it like a little man. His father, on the other hand, is a little worn for the wear and ready to spend the day back in the office.