I haven’t gotten a single thing done this week, besides of course be the best dad possible to Celia. Michelle’s been on Joshua duty, but I’m surprised at how little time I have to myself with little Celia. She’s so independent, I expected her to be happier on her own for longer stretches, but at this point it looks like she lasts a maximum of fifteen minutes or so.
Even when I put on a kid show, if I’m sitting next to her trying to work she’ll eventually say, “Daddy! Lap!” and there goes my ability to type.
The week feels like it’s flying by quickly. I need to come up for air at some point, but so far when evening hits and Celia conks out in bed, I feel like doing the same.
I had a brilliant moment of peace, in the midst of it all, where the sun peaked out behind the clouds, Celia was playing with a doll, and the song came on, from Pink Martini, Hang on Little Tomato. The words go something like, “You’ve gotta hold on, hold on through the night, hang on, things will be alright…” and later, “Hang on, hang onto the vine. Stay on, soon you’ll be divine.”
I smiled thinking of myself as a little tomato, and I thought, “Everything’ll be alright. Yeah. We’re all just little tomatoes.” And then Celia pulled on my leg and said, “Poopy diaper.” Oh well, I did get one moment, anyway.