It’s a Friday morning. I have more than a shitload of work to do and I don’t feel like doing any of it. I woke up Monday morning all kinds of excited because that meant that after a week of children being home, finally I can get back to work.
By all means, Monday was epic. I woke up at 4 am, hit the snooze button twice, went to the gym, got home and got shit DONE! It was amazing. On my mind was my most amazing Christmas break of all time, which happened by default because I came down with chickenpox literally at the stroke of 12 in 1993 (“Happy New Year! Chad, you have chickenpox” my mom said). That week I spent two days with my mom and the other three with my pops and it was lit! My dad let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to…It was a fleeting thought that was pleasant to relive for thirty seconds.
Tuesday morning, I woke up at 4 am again. Hit the gym, did dead lifts at 315, barbell shrugs at 385 lbs, and had the feeling that today was going to be a repeat of Monday’s productivity. I happily wake up the kids for school just to find out my nephew was sick and had vomited all over the floor. My mother had to leave for school, so I was prepared to take Cydney and my nephew to school. My nephew said that he was felling better and would be able to do school. Five minutes later, I realized that wasn’t happening.
I was able to be productive during the first part of the day because he was asleep. I wrote my heartfelt daydream about Timile’s thirtieth birthday, finished mixing for Cydney’s podcast, and spent most of the afternoon just kicking it with my nephew because I knew the company was needed. Feeling the effects of lifting rediculously heavy, I took a brief nap before Cydney came home because I just know that the ball of energy she requires I didn’t have.
Wednesday morning, I wake up a little later. I get my nephew to school and I then take Cydney. I proceed to get busy by doing some writing, responding to some emails, submitting a pitch or two, and a short phone conference in as well. Around 1 pm, I head to the gym because I didn’t go this morning. It’s leg day. This was my first leg day since March because my legs were do big all of my jeans looked like jeggings. I was kind of excited about this. I load up the plates on the leg press, looking forward in seeing if I still had what it takes to press twenty-four plates that weighed 45lbs each (plus the machine is around 1,200 lbs). I do one quick warm up set with twelve plates and my phone rings. It’s my mother saying that Cydney’s school called her because Cydney had gotten sick in school. So much for that.
Wednesday afternoon and evening, I changed sheets three times because Cydney had vomited on them. I had to stop the car twice while at stop lights because she had thrown up en route to the house. It was rough. But my baby wasn’t doing well, so it didn’t bother me and I was in dad-mode for real. She sat with me and watched both Rocky III and IV with some “intermissions” in between. Clearly she didn’t go to school on Thursday. While Cydney was feeling better yesterday, no work got done because it was her day to have me to herself by rocking out and doing whatever she wanted.
So I guess to some extent, I had another extended vacation. It wasn’t the kind that I wanted or wished for; but I guess to some extent it was needed. I enjoyed myself as well. There’s something about when the kids are under the weather that the soft and nurturing side kicks in and you just want to be there for them followed by letting them have fun along the way. I knew how much it meant to me, so I was more than happy to do it for them.