Bye. Again. My girl.

If there's anything to take away from this blog, it's that a stay-at-home dad can't handle two kids and two blogs.

daddy dums was a dud.

It's time to go back to work. Tomorrow, in fact. I decided to write Paige a good-bye note, since it was her birth that triggered this leave, even if she didn't get all my attention during it.



Paige: We've spent three months together, at home, with your sister, getting to know each other during my parental leave. It all ends tomorrow. It kind of ended two days ago. I went to work Saturday for the first time since late August. I'll return for good Tuesday.

I've taken little time to write you or reflect upon our time together. Sure, I've been busy. Keeping up with two young girls is harder than keeping up with the police scanners at work during weekend shifts. There was also the buyout, forcing a sudden exploration of school and a new career. That was quite an unplanned distraction. Unfortunate, but necessary, I guess. We traveled as a family a bit. Otherwise, I had no excuses. I just rarely stopped to think. When I did, I usually thought about myself. For that, I apologize. It was what life threw at me and all I could do to field it.



I fear this could be the story of your adolescent life. You are an adorable baby. You sit and play alone for long stretches. Strangers marvel at your ability to entertain yourself. That's one reason why I worry you'll be taken for granted, overshadowed by your ebullient sister, left by us too often to tend to your own needs when you could really use a little attention yourself. Sure, you scream like a chimpanzee when you need something. When you tire of playing in the middle of the floor. When you're done laying in your crib. But generally, you're just fine playing solo. You find things to occupy your fingers, fill your hands. You flash knowing smiles up at us while you do.

I will miss those flashes. I will miss those quiet times when Claire went to Dana's. You sat on my chest as I laid on the couch. You fell asleep sitting up while I read the paper or watched 'Mad Men.' You buried your gums in my shoulder when you got hungry for milk. I'll miss your spastic bursts of glee when you saw mom walk through the door from work. I'll especially miss those, even if they reinforced you as momma's girl.



We can still play peek-a-boo. I can still tickle your tummy with the whiskers of my chin. I'll change your diapers. I'll take you for jogs. I'll feed you spoonfuls of peas. We'll make coffee. I'll read you books, tell you stories. We'll just do these things less often.

And that will be my loss, too.