So it's kinda weird being a visitor in my own house, but I'm sitting at the airport right now headed back to Seattle. I absolutely loved being home. It seriously feels like a vacation. The kids even seem to like it when I'm there, but some more than others. I busted the oldest little HTFer the first night I was home as he tried to rifle through my suitcase looking for presents. As he walked by me on the way to his sentencing in his bedroom he muttered, "it's harder to do stuff when you're home." That's music to my ears. The time was great and the kids and the Mrs HTF were a ball. But being back home I am learning a bit about the contrast between living alone and living with the family. Here are just a few observations:
- Living alone, when I leave my clothes on the floor in my bedroom, for some strange reason, they're still there when I get home at night. This never happened at home.
- By some law of nature, kids almost always want you to get up before you actually want to. The whole getting-up thing is totally different when you're alone.
- Cooking for yourself is really unfun. I'd rather make 2 boxes of mac 'n cheese for the kids and a few neighbor friends.
- My wife pointed out multiple times that keeping the kids on a schedule is much easier with me gone. Apparently my presence like triples the length of time it takes to get the kids to bed. I don't have a good explanation for that, but bedtime seemed really fun to me . . . I don't know what she's complaining about.
Those are just a few of the observations. It's hard to be leaving again, but I'll be back in a few weeks. If you wanna call and talk to me, you should do it around bedtime, because I'll probably be locked in the basement.