Home Alone: You’re Not the Boss of Me!
Growing up with two parents who worked evenings made me have to constantly have to tip toe around the house lest I wake either of the sleeping giants. As long as I didn’t wake them up I was free to watch whatever shows I liked, read whatever I wanted, and pig out on my favorite snacks (usually a triple decker peanut butter & jelly sandwich on wonder bread white bread). I presumed those days were long gone once I moved out on my own. Getting my own place was to have been the start of a new chapter where I could play music as loudly as I wanted whenever I wanted. For the most part this has held true for the last fifteen years or so, at least that was the case until Turtle Biscuit came along.
Much in the same way that I painstaking worked as kid to move around our Jamaica Queens apt as quietly as possible, I’m finding myself having to do the same at the Bowie homestead whenever Turtle Biscuit goes down for a nap. Often times this is not that hard of a task because when she’s sleeping I’m either sleeping myself or taking the opportunity to do some work. Then there are moments like today where I am practically overtaken with fear at the prospect of Turtle Biscuit waking up prematurely from a nap.
About a week ago I discovered that she’s now violently startled by sudden loud noises like a sneeze or powerful cough. When this happens she starts crying uncontrollably and I can feel her heart racing as I try comforting her. The first time it happened it was probably scarier for me than it was for her because not only had I never heard her cry like this, but since I was holding her, the feeling of her heart racing so vigorously was jarring.
With that experience lodged in the back of my mind you could imagine my anxiety this afternoon when as Turtle Biscuit began dozing off after I finished feeding her I noticed the house phone lying on the bed about 3 ft from where were we sitting on the rocker. I knew that Snuggle Biscuit might be calling in to check in at any moment and I dreaded the thought of her hearing Turtle Biscuit shaken up. So as I rocked Turtle Biscuit to sleep, I kept an eye on the phone trying to will it not too ring. I was virtually chanting–doing my best Houngan impersonation as I worked to keep that phone silent.
The gods must have heard my prayers because by the time Turtle Biscuit was sound asleep and ready for me to put her down in the crib, the phone had yet to ring. So I gently stood up, laid her down in the crib, picked up the phone, and tip toed into the living room, and for the next 2hrs I did what I had to do just as quietly as a mouse–or rather just as I used to–when I was a kid growing up and daydreaming about the day that I would become the boss of me.
For more on the adventures of Dad & Turtle Biscuit Click Here