Daddy No More

Not too long ago, Libby told me a story from her childhood. At the time, I thought it was kind of funny, but didn't really relate.

It was a very short story, really, just sort of a memory she had of something her mom said. Once, when the kids were shouting for her, she replied back "My name is not Mommy anymore!"

At the time she told me this, I think Norah was just learning how to say our names. However, in this last month, she's not only mastered our names, but she's learned that calling them out gets our attention and draws us over to attend to her whims. Since she figured this out, there is no doubt that she has abused the privilege. She will yell for us no matter where she is or what she is doing--even if we're standing right in front of her face at the time.

Her other new favorite is "I'm stuck." Now that she knows what it means, she's "stuck" everywhere. On chairs, on the wrong side of the baby gates, in her crib, on the floor with a small blanket somewhere near her, you name it. "Daddy! I'm stuck!" she'll shriek, just because she can.

Anyway. When it was just Gabe calling for me all the time, I guess it really didn't bother me and I really couldn't relate to the story Libby told me. one child shouting all the time is, I guess, fairly easy to ignore (which I TOTALLY get now--I always wondered growing up how Mom could just "not hear" us when we were in the same room with her trying to get her attention, but now I understand how it's not only possible but necessary for the sake of sanity). Now, with both of them calling out for me, even if I'm standing right next to them and can clearly see what they are already doing, hearing "Daddy" said so many times has prompted me on a couple occasions these past few weeks to think to myself, "My name isn't Daddy anymore!"

I told this to Libby yesterday and I think she didn't have any real sympathy for me. I'm reasonably sure that she thought I was exaggerating, because she said I should count how many times they said it.

An outright count would be pretty impossible. I would need one of those little clicker things gate attendants use to keep track of how many people show up for a sporting event. And I would have to be paying enough attention to hear them say it the first or second time, which often isn't the case.

So I decided to figure out an average instead. I focused my attention for thirty minutes and counted--just an average thirty minutes this morning while average amounts of nothing in particular were going on. Then I figured there were about ten hours a day that they were both up and calling for me. That's a pretty small estimate because it would assume they both slept until 7:00 and then took a three hour nap apiece. That happens maybe one day in twenty, but I wanted to err on the side of caution.

Thirty-seven times! That's how many times "Daddy!" was yelled in thirty minutes. Granted, Norah will shout it continuously when she wants something, so she could rack up ten in thirty seconds, but still. Three hundred seventy times a day would be the total. THREE HUNDRED SEVENTY TIMES A DAY! THREE HUNDRED SEVENTY TIMES A DAY!!! Who wouldn't go crazy? If I punched a wall every minute, it would take me over six hours of punching to equal this number--I could remove the plaster and lathe on one of our walls (because I have fists of steal). If I took a 1/2 ounce drink of soda every mile, I would consume nearly three gallons of liquids while we drove from our house to Amarillo, Texas (which, considering the size of my bladder, would take about a day and a half with the number of stops we'd make). 370 cockroaches could fill and entire shelf in one of our kitchen cabinets! 370 pages of a book would make one of the not stupid Harry Potter novels! 370 marshmallow peeps would have 6660 calories (oooooh, spookyish number) and represent the total caloric intake recommended for a normal male (not me since I have a terrible metabolism) for three and one third days!

You get the picture. It's a lot. And it's driving me bat shit crazy right now. I'm thinking about having them change my name every day to something nonsensical so the value of a "Daddy" doesn't keep plummeting like it is now. But I sort of doubt either of them would grasp the reasoning behind it. Heck, half the time, they both have to call me "Mommy" a couple times before they remember they aren't just saying some random word.

To try and give everyone an idea of what it's like, I asked Gabe to start saying "Daddy" non-stop while I recorded it. I hoped Norah would join in when she heard Gabe saying it, because she often does that. She did, but she only said it twice, so you can't quite get the full effect. But it ought to work pretty well for giving you an idea.