One of the biggest challenges that comes along with having kids is the lack of time off. As a parent, you are always on duty (or at least on call). There aren't days set aside for catch up. There is no "working for the weekend." No recovery time.
On Saturday we had the grandparents and some aunts and uncles over for a small birthday party for Jameson. It was low key and casual, but exhausting just the same. Then, after the party and after the kids were in bed, we stayed up until 2:00 in the morning, hanging out with my brother Kip and his girlfriend Corey, drinking rum (Bacardi Solera, mmmm) and Cokes and watching reruns of It's Always Sunny.
(For the record, "100 Dollar Baby" is way funnier than "The Gang Gives Back.")
But the real issue here is the bedtime. That's entirely too late for Julie and I to both be up. Regardless of our late night carousing, the kids were going to be awake by no later than 7:30 AM. That's a dreadful thought when you're finally falling asleep around 3:00 AM. There's a certain anxiety that comes with it. You know that as soon as your head hits the pillow you're going to get your wake up call. There are few things I hate more than having a whole night of sleep feel like nothing more than a blink of my eyes.
So the next day was spent drinking lots of water and walking around in a zombie-like haze. Who knows if the kids were wearing matching clothes, were fed lunch or were allowed to play with the stove. It's all a little foggy. Anything could have happened.
But the real kick in the gut came when I texted Kip around noon to see if he was coming over to watch football. (He only loves me for my NFL Sunday Ticket Superfan subscription.) His reply: "Not today. I'm just going to vegetate on my couch."
Damn you young, unmarried, childless punk.