Beep.

“...”

Beep.

I sighed. 4:00 in the morning... why was the alarm going off at 4:00 in the morning?

Beep.

I rolled over into my stomach, slowly lowering my arm onto the alarm clock to stop the infernal beeping. What was it that caused this? Why would I ever hate myself enough to set an alarm for 4:00 in the morning?

Whimper.

Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m a parent now. With a heave, I rolled out of bed, landing with a thump on the carpet below. I climbed to my feet and shuffled over to where Joey was sleeping.

“Shhh!” I exhaled through my clenched teeth, trying my hardest to sound loving even though last night I was sleeping through until 9:00 am.

I picked him up. He was wet, and probably hungry. Pulling the frail body closer to my own I checked the pad under where he was sleeping; only slightly damp. Throwing the pad on the ground beside my bed, I fished a replacement out of the baby supply desk sandwiched between the crib and the wall. I laid it out as best I could with only one arm available. “Alright,” My sleepy voice wheezed as I re-adjusted Joey on my arm, “Let’s go get you some food eh?”

I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, a light as bright as the sun itself shone out at me, making it difficult for me to locate the half gallon of 100% human breast milk.

I set the carton on the counter and moved The slobbering Joey to my hip. Males were not built for this.

I found a clean sippycup and unscrewed the lid using my teeth. “Bibbity Bobbity boo,” I said, more to keep myself awake than anything else, as I poured the milk into the bottle.

I put the bottle into the microwave then labored to press the correct buttons, 1... 0... 0... start.

Now comes the question that all new parents will have the urge to answer one day, Can I finish the diaper change before the microwave beeps, or will I have to endure the painful sonic blasts that could risk waking up the entire block?

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And so the race begins.

Of course I can always change the beast on the counter, where I can press cancel at 0:01, but the marble is cold and probably painful, so I’m not going to do that, instead I’m going to go all the way back upstairs and get the diaper changing supplies that I probably should’ve grabbed on my first trip down.

Halfway through changing Joey the microwave went off, blaring through the house, my only prayer was that god himself didn’t smite me where I stood on the charge of unnecessary noise at inhuman hours of the night.

I strapped on the clean diaper, tossed the dirty one into the bin, and hefted the tyke back onto myself, this time closer to my shoulder. We made it before the second round of accursed beeping had begun, I pulled out the sippycup, screwed on the lid, and headed back up the stairs.

“Dad is that you?”

It was George.

I turned around to see my six-year-old rubbing his eyes under the doorframe of his room.

“Yeah bud, what’s up?” I asked.

He looked up at me, oh dear, he had had a nightmare and was about to ask if he could go to bed with me. Handing the sippycup to the arm supporting Joey, I squatted down and wrapped my free arm around George, I then hoisted him up and began my way up the stairs to my bedroom. “Yes,” I said, “you can come snuggle anytime you want.”

Sometimes I forget why I decided one day last year to adopt and become a single dad, and those moments are reinforced whenever I have mornings like this, but then occasionally after all the ruckas, I get to set down an empty baby bottle on my nightstand, then I look around and find myself to be hugged by two little boys that needed a father, and got a dad.