Ain’t it Funny How the Night Moves
Wife is on night shift. Its odd how it works with her company here. Back home there was a day shift and a night shift. You worked one or the other. When we first arrived in Singapore she was on days. Here however, there is a cultural stigma with working overnights. To keep workers happy her company has come up with a novel solution, everyone will work nights. Every two months her shift will change from one to the other. So she leaves the house just before seven each evening and gets home around nine each morning. What this means is on days she is working the me and E show is on overdrive.
He wakes up around seven each morning and goes to bed around eight each evening. Neither is a time when she is home. I honestly can’t imagine what is going on in her head. I’m sure it kills her to see him so little while working nights. Even on her days off she is asleep till four or five giving her limited Emmet time. I’m on daddy overload some of these days. They are long and dealing with the boundless energy of a three year old while trying to accomplish all the necessary shopping, cleaning, and cooking is hard enough on a regular day but on a day where he has to be quiet inside because mommy is sleeping is whole other dimension of difficult.
The worst part of the night shift is right now. Its nine at night. E is asleep, she’s at work, I’m here. On the couch. Writing this blog. I’m glad I started this it gives me something to do. But these nights get tedious after awhile. I can’t do a whole lot. Oh there are always dishes and laundry to do and I try to keep up on them. But I have nothing to do and no one to talk to. So I play candy crush, or poker on facebook to pass the time between hanging laundry. I keep thinking to myself “Hey he sleeps really well. In fact he hasn’t woken up in the middle of the night in weeks. You could go to the gym or swim a few laps. No harm done.” But then daddy brain turns on. What if he falls out of bed? Or has a bad dream? Or just wakes up for no reason at all? If I’m not in the apartment that makes me not only a poor parent but just a downright horrible person. He needs me if any of those things or anything else happens. So I stay. And wait until I’m tired enough to go to bed. And wait impatiently for when the wife is back on days and I’ll have company after my day with E has ended.