The Light Upstairs

Fiction writer Brendyn Schneider has joined Dadity.com as a regular contributer. To view his latest click on “The Light Upstairs” on the right.

The Hospital Vacation

Before the births of each of our boys we took guided tours of the hospital. With Jackson it was out of nervousness, confusion and probably fear. We needed to know where to go and when. I had visions of hitting the railroad tracks at fifty miles-per-hour, tires leaving the ground (in slow motion, of course) before skidding to a stop in front of the emergency entrance to the hospital. This vision didn’t come to pass. In fact, it was a quiet drive. We even stopped to use a pay-phone. Yes, a pay-phone.

Recently we added Nathan to our family. Prior to his arrival we again signed up for a tour of the hospital. This time was different. We did want to know what, where and when, but we were a little more interested in the details this time. Since Jackson’s birth we have moved to another side of town, which means we’re closer to a different hospital – a brand new hospital. Since our move we had been hearing rumors about this glorious new medical resort.

“They have the Internet,” I heard from one reliable source. “You can wash your cloths there,” another said, “and they have movies on demand.” All of this turned out to be true. We took the tour and walked back to the car smiling and chatting it up about the forced three day vacation we were about to enjoy with our new son.

“It’s great that you’ll have a bed to sleep in,” my wife said and I agreed enthusiastically, adding that I was particularly interested in the mini-fridge. We high-fived and headed home.

Then it hit me. We hadn’t heard where we were supposed to go upon arrival. This, of course, bothered my wife more than it did me. Was it the out-patient door? The emergency room? We eventually figured it out, but it made me think about how things have changed over the years.

Our fathers and our father’s fathers had quite different experiences. Once upon a time it was unheard of for fathers to be in the delivery room, or to spend the night in the hospital. I feel lucky to have been able to do both. No matter how many mini-fridges, fancy televisions and hardwood floors they install it will still be the fact that fathers can simply be there that makes the biggest difference.

Someday we hope to have another munchkin. When that day comes the rooms will be more spectacular, but the experience will be just as perfect as the two times before.

– AJB

Bath Time

It’s Saturday again. For a working Dad, Saturdays don’t come often enough and, as my wife would assure me, the case is the same for a stay-at-home mom.

Dad at home on the weekend means some slight changes to the routine. In our house it is a combination of disruption and an added hand.

My three year old son, Jackson, is a lover of baths. He has a number of bath toys, bath letters, bath numbers and favorite wash cloths and bubble baths. He is a bath connoisseur.

This morning he took a 45 minute bath. This is what I mean when I say “slight change of routine.”

Jackson doesn’t generally take long baths, but today was an exception. As it often is my responsibility to make sure he’s cleaned up for bed, I have helped to mold the current bath routine. My long-standing policy can perhaps be best compared to a military air strike, both in its accuracy and efficiency.

It is designed as a “Get in – Get out – Just get the job done!” sort of operation. There may be some tears at the end, but its all fine in a matter of minutes and once again peace prevails.

So, this morning was different. Much to Jackson’s surprise I didn’t ask him to get out of the bath. He washed, he counted his foam numbers and played with this funny bath puppy he has – whose name, I discovered this morning, is Joe.

He then sat up in the tub, with one eye on me, washing a toy car with his washcloth as the bubbles slowly went flat and the water become something less than warm. None of this bothered him.

After the long bath, which took approximately the same amount of time as a flight from here to Atlanta, something was different. Jackson wasn’t upset – no tears, just smiles and a question: “What now?”

This is why I love the weekend. It’s a great time to be the dad. The weekend is like a demilitarized zone at the end of a week of small battles over bed times and baths. Saturday coming may be a distraction from the daily routine – but isn’t that why we all look forward to it too?

This is what makes it so much fun to be a dad. Bath time is over, for today at least, and all is right with the world – well, at least until it’s time to get out of the bath again on Monday night, put on those Pj’s and head off to bed.

– AJB