Unfit Father

Published on September 29th, 2015 | by Richard Black


Where Does the Time Go? (Prelude)


This is the average amount of time I have on any given day to relax, read, write, and possibly bathe.

Where does the time go? That’s not a rhetorical question by the way. If you have an answer please let me know. I’d always thought that I’d have a surplus of free time once my daughter began school full time. Apparently a lot of other people thought so as well.

Darcy’s only been in school for three weeks and I’ve quickly seen my child free day shrink from seven hours to about fifteen minutes. I had things to do damnit. Other than fixing the “work” our former contractor has bequeathed to my family I’ve got a half acre land that hasn’t been tended to since the first Bush administration. In addition to lead, pantry moths, and lice I’m now dealing with a variety of English Ivy that can grow about fifty yards a day. Unchecked it may soon take over the block and the city will probably succumb to its relentless advance by the end of the year. I’m not sure if this qualifies as a national emergency but I’m thinking about asking FEMA for some help.

Aside from my duties at home I also held out the hope that I’d be able to devote more time to expanding my massive media empire by writing, promoting and soliciting you for funds (please send address checks to Unfit Father. Don’t worry about filling in the amount. I’ll just write it in based upon how wealthy your name looks). That time however is sadly still regulated to the hours of about nine in the evening until whenever I pass out from exhaustion and leave a nonsensical string of letters after my head hits the keyboard. Asdf;ljkdsfas;d;o;wpejwe

Sorry it looks like I nodded off there. I’d delete it but I feel another spell of exhaustion coming on and would like to finish writing before I have another episode.

It turns out that there really is quite a lot to do for a parent with a child in school. I’ve now got books to remind my daughter to return to the library the day after they were due, clothing of the appropriate color to wrestle her into whether she likes it or not, and a few hundred thousand other opportunities to forget and cause my daughter lasting emotional damage.



“WE WERE SUPPOSED TO WEAR YELLOW THAT DAY!!!” I can hear Darcy sobbing to her therapist some twenty years hence.

The fun doesn’t end there. Why would it? Other than cooking and cleaning and all of the other things required of a stay at home dad I can generally expect to spend the majority of my time in one, or all, of the following four activities: Homework, Meals, Volunteering and Email.

Unfortunately that’s all I’ve got right now. Thank you for reading. I hope you can join me for the next installment  in this self serving series when I tackle the difficulties involved when getting a five year old to do her homeworkkjhgnaefmlljmasdfjuhadsf.

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One Response to Where Does the Time Go? (Prelude)

  1. nealcall says:

    I’m in the same boat. I drop my 5-year-old off at 8:00, and pick her up about 3:30. People tell me there are a few hours in-between pick up and drop off, but damn if they seem to slip through my fingers the tighter I try to hold on to them. I feel Grand Moff Tarkin’s pain.

    I’m not a very good cook; I’m not sure if that means I should find more time in my day since what I prepare for meals could be charitably described as “minimalist,” or if that means there’s even less time once I’ve spent a while agonizing about having to make another. meal. today. and. every. day. for. the. rest. of. my. life. And then add making lunches in the morning to that.

    Also, my wife and I both volunteered to help in the classroom once per week, and the kindergarten teacher almost peed her pants, since she said she hadn’t had a parent volunteer in over 3 years. So, there’s no way we’re getting out of that, ever.

    And then there’s the plans you’ve got to carefully craft while she’s at school, since there’s so little time once she’s home to “wing it” and have her get done what she actually needs to get done. She walks in the door, takes a bath, and it’s practically bed-time before we’ve even got dinner on the table.

    Whine. Okay. Got to get off the computer. That doesn’t help either.

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