It is Monday and I am home. Alone. With a baby.
But not just any baby. It’s my baby.
Yes, I’m outing myself right now. I am a baby papa. That’s me above on the left and my little squirt to my right. Who’s her daddy? Me. I have united my seed with the egg of another and created an offspring that is part me, part she, and 100% hyper monkey. She rises every morning at 5:50 am, sets her motor to warp factor 10, and proceeds to take apart, destroy, chew on, eat, pee, and at times vomit all over just about every single thing that had any material significance to me. My house, which was once a shimmering monument of respect to Room&Board, now looks like a Toy’s R Us warehouse in Juarez, Mexico.
This baby was no accident, by the way. It’s creation was planned meticulously with a combination of math, science, and hard sex. I even used an abacus during foreplay just like our ancestors did to insure maximum fertility.
So, why am I home on Monday? Alone? With a baby? My baby?
Well, my babysitter showed up today with a mean case of the flu. Not wanting to risk turning my house into the next viral hot zone, I chastised the sitter, gave her 3 lashings with my rattan cane, palmed her $10 for some drugs, and sent her on her way. I would have fired her on the spot for such an idiotic move if she didn’t have such an eerie resemblance to my biological mother.
But I have a problem. I am home on Monday. Alone. With my baby.
An actor’s life and a baby doesn’t a natural fit make. Now if I were making $20 million a picture, there would cease to be a problem here. All I would have to do is purchase a gaggle of hot, Swedish nannies to care for me the baby and hire a bunch of servants to effectively relieve my life of any real parenting duties and I would be set. I could go about my day as an actor and never be late for yoga. Unfortunately for me, that is not my reality. Remember, I am an actor. I don’t really make that much money. I usually have to pay others and/or trade sexual services to be in the cool projects. So what I lack in bling I must make up with pure, physical labor. And to think a degree from an Ivy League university would keep me from having to sweat and use my back and hands to survive. I want a refund.
My day has been filled with things I don’t normally do. Remember, I am an actor. I am supposed to live free with no responsibility and smoke lots of cigarettes. Such a life mantra works great if you’re solo and an adult. But living free and without responsibility will usually result in baby injuring herself. And believe me, presenting baby with an arm cast or a bandaged head to mom at the end of the work day will virtually guarantee that the mama will never touch thy penis ever again (unless, of course, she is punching or kneeing it).
I suck at multitasking. I think it’s a guy thing. Women are much better at multitasking, a talent that makes them much more natural at parenting. Women are bad ass when it comes to child rearing. My lover (and baby mama) can wash the baby, read to her, file her nails, do the taxes, build a complex mathematical model on Excel, and perform open heart surgery simultaneously. I, on the other hand, have trouble holding my daughter and peeing at the same time. So given that I am guy retarded, I had to give up being an actor today and adopt a life of accountability and responsibility. I took my daughter to her gym class this morning. I was the only guy parent there. It was just me and 15 other mothers with plump breasts ripe with lactation. I then had to go to the bank to cash a few checks and swing by subway to pick up my 5 dollar footlong. Normally those two tasks would take me only 20 minutes. But since I had my 15 month old seed in tow, these basic duties took me almost 2 hours. I had to feed her 3 times, a task that takes about 45 minutes per round. It’s 3:35 pm on Monday and I have yet to bathe her, feed her dinner, or give her final bottle of milk before sleep. I can only hope that the Backyardigans and Ni Hao Kai Lan on Nick Jr. will captivate her attention long enough so that I can finish this blog. It sucks having to be accountable and responsible. I’m an actor damn it. I should be smoking cigarettes, feeling pain, and reading the prose of dead white guys. Instead, I am taking care of mini me (sans penis).
So I am home on Monday. Alone. With my baby. But my real problem is…Tuesday.
I will be home on Tuesday. Alone. With my baby. Just like on Monday. Why? Because…
Given how deathly ill my babysitter is, there is no way that she will be returning for at least a week. But unlike on Monday, on Tuesday I have an audition for a really, really big role in a really, really big comic book movie. You know, like Iron Man, Hulk, Spiderman, etc. Same type of Otaku thing but a different dude in a different set of colorful tights. If I book this thing I could be sporting some seriously tight colorful tights myself (with a tiny man-bump since my lover/baby-mama has my penis locked up in a safe). But I don’t have a sitter and my child has serious stranger anxiety so I can’t leave her with anyone even for a second. Factor in that lover/baby-mama has a traditional 9to5 and I’m left with only one alternative – to bring my baby to the audition. Uckfay. How the hell am I going to be able to focus on being a man in tights when I have a suckling baby in tow? How am I going to be able to maintain my aura as “the cool actor” walking into the studio with a Baby Bjorn wrinkling my Versace? The only time I have ever seen this done successfully and with panache was 10 years ago with a young Daniel Dae Kim. DDK brought his baby in a stroller to an audition that I was at. He looked so cool doing it too (unlike me). I wish I had his hair. So cool. Mine is starting to recede. I’m so lost.
So here I am. At home on Monday. Alone. With my baby. Wondering how the heck I’m supposed to be a free and irresponsible actor, a trait necessary to snare my future as a superhero sidekick in tights on film, and be an accountable parent all at the same time. Help me God! Or Steven Spielberg. Either will do. James Cameron wouldn’t be bad either. I am stumped. And asians are impossible to stump given their proclivity with logic and decision making. So that means I am really in a bind. What to do, what to do…
But lest I lead you to think that my hitch here is something I consider a penalty, let me be the first to say nay. Hardly not. It is the ultimate blessing. 2 years ago I was terrified of the mere thought of having a baby. I was never going to get married, have kids, etc. until after I “made it” as an actor. Not until I was successful and financially stable would I even allow myself to expand beyond the territory of me. I was convinced of these facts. It was my gospel. But given certain life circumstances and chess moves expertly played by my lover/baby-mama we had a baby (the manufacturing of it was good fun). The biggest surprise? My biggest fears prior to having a baby flipped 180 degrees and became my biggest joys. Life became infinitely richer and deeper beyond what I thought possible. I find this ironic because one of the main reasons for my wanting to become an actor was to learn to live exceptionally present and in the moment and to experience life’s deepest emotions. Little did I know that the deepest of emotions could only be felt by expanding my life into a territory that I deemed legitimately off limits. Life is funny like that I suppose. Funny in the most unexpected ways indeed.
So here I am at home on Monday. Alone. With my baby. It has taken my 5 hours to write this entry because in that time I had to feed her twice, change 3 diapers (one really shitty one), stroll her to sleep, feed her a yogurt snack, deal with a few temper tantrums, read her a few books, and, of course, exercise her fingers atop an abacus to further beat her asian heritage into her soul. This is my life. What was once my greatest fear and ultimate taboo has morphed into my most significant blessing and the center of my most tangible happiness and joy. OK, gotta figure out a way to get into some tights for the movies. Up up and away…
rofl. hilarious…poor Roger.
Roger, your baby will probably spit at me, but if it’s the difference between $20M dollars for the role of a lifetime or an hour or two where I try to calm a screaming infant, I will have your back. Where’s your audition?
Roger…drop her off at my house. Stranger anxiety or not, I can handle her.
make that a 3rd volunteer. please feel free to leave her with me for an afternoon. I’ve got an extra laptop; we can surf the web together.
i love you all. i will mind meld with my seed and see if she will allow me to take her on a most excellent of journeys… : )
I’d love to volunteer too but alas my parole officer says it’s not possible. Damn Megan’s law!
But seriously, congrats on coming out officially! Never thought I’d see that happen here in these pages.
I don’t know you… but if you promisel remember me when you become famous actor – I will watch your baby on Tues.
Roger– she can totally hang with me, although stranger anxiety coupled with doctor’s office anxiety might push her over the edge!! Good luck– life has a way of working itself out. Loved the entry!
That was awesome…didnt know you had this side to you, Roger. I would help…got a 4 four year old girl myself…but im in Hawaii!! And good luck on your future endeavors!
I don’t know you… but if you feel free to leave her with me ,you can.
Wow, it’s pretty awesome that complete strangers are offering to babysit. I’m just waiting for Charles Manson to leave a comment offering to babysit if you’ll drop her off at his prison cell.
I love kids! If the five ppl above should bail, I’ll be your Manny. You can look me up on the sex offender registry beforehand if you like (I’m not on it) and I promise not to shake her like a British au pair.
Roger!!
We have a 3 and a half months old. Leon is at home everyday. Alone. With our baby. Even though it’s just for the monrning and until I get home at noon, it’s rough for him sometimes. He called me just now asking me what time to feed him. The glory of parenthood… we love every minute of it!!
documentary. in. the. making! too bad you don’t have a third hand to hold the camera while you hold the baby.
Congrats. It’s funny how we don’t appreciate the great things in our life when they’re present. I noticed you fed her 3 times in the span of 2 hours. This article might give you reason to think twice: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/23/health/23obese.html?ref=health.
Joan, haven’t you seen The Quest for Length? Roger DOES have a third arm.
Whatthe?! YOU HAVE A BABY? Congrats, dude. (Better late than never, you know.)
thanks for the luv everyone.
it’s 7:58 pm, Tuesday.
i survived. : )
How’d it go?
Congrats on the perpetuation of your genes…and on surviving Monday & Tuesday.
Dude….my daughter is THE BEST THING I’VE DONE. I’m sure you feel the way about your child too.
I was out Tuesday. Alone. With my baby. Mama was at home, not feeling well. So, it was my 4+ y/o daughter and Papa on our first extended solo adventure. We went to pay some bills, to the bank, and to Costco. She was great. I treated her to a yogurt-ice cream at the Costco Food Court. Well, ok…we split one since the portions are so large. She’s still at the stage where “ice cream” winds up all around her mouth and on her hands. Cute. And sticky. We then browsed at all the stuff we really don’t need but would be cool to have….except then I’d have to revoke my “Staying UNDER $100 Club Legendary Status” (trick = I don’t use a shopping cart). Well, ok…we do go a few times a week since they are nearby.
And then…….it was time to go to use the restroom.
Now, at home that’s not a problem. But out in the wild, public…..without Mama to do the duty….MEN’s facilities are FILTHY. Even at Costco which tends to be a bit better than most places. And I tend to be a bit OCD to begin with. SCARY…..
So, after various warnings to stand still, don’t move, don’t touch, don’t breathe, and a dozen rolls of paper and 3 boxes of toilet seat covers, and a gazillion rounds of handwashing, we made it out ok. I think. I do still have to Lysol the bottoms of her shoes (mine too) though.
And then she fell asleep on our way to Henry’s Market. I let her sleep (yes, I waited in the car with her) for 30mins. And then she woke up. Cranky. Uncooperative. Whiny. MAX temper tantrum. Devil child…that looks like me, except without the “Y” chromosone. Nixay on Henry’s. Do not pass Go. STRAIGHT home as a “punishment for bad behavior”.
She’s still the best thing I’ve ever done.
You have so many more wonderful memories to come Enjoy each and every second.
You sound like a great dad and if you don’t get the part, I’m looking forward to our future collab.
[...] as soon as the balance settled in, it completely blew apart. I had a baby and now, I watch more TV than before but it revolves around 2 networks – Nick Jr. and HGTV. [...]
Rog, I missed this the first time because I’ve been so busy taking care of our 3 and 5 year old boys. Remember when you met Jeremy and I in New York and complimented us by saying, “Wow, kids having kids!” I bet you could not imagine yourself as a dad then. But now you’re a good one. And I have not changed my WordPress profile pic since I met you in 2007. What does that say about my schedule?
Have a great week! Elena
[...] Being home, alone with 2 baby girls is not easy (at least not for me). It’s not a child to parent ratio that I prefer. It’s exhausting at best and a very lonely space to be in. This happens to me from time to time – my parental support system going down unexpectedly. The work/social/daddy world that I so delicately constructed instantly explodes and I have to become 110% Daddy Fan 24/7 until reinforcements arrive. My personal and professional life must be lived, at best, in between naps. [...]