You’re sitting at home, watching
Home Town on HGTV the NFL Playoffs, and thinking to yourself, we wish Work Hangover talked less about sports and more about their personal lives. From your mind to our fingertips, the stars have aligned.
In a turn of events that only 2021, which, for the record, is way worse so far than 2020, can produce, Mrs. Hangover went into quarantine this week as a precaution due to contact tracing. We thought about opting out of the week due to lack of scholarship players, but apparently you can’t just opt out of caring for an 11-month-old child.
So, with Mom on the Physically Unable to Perform/COVID list, we shut down the Work Hangover offices and attempted to play Dad.
The first day started off like the first day of a bachelor party. Everyone has energy, we’re all excited, a little terrified we may not survive, but we overcompensate that fear by being overly enthusiastic. The first night of a bachelor party weekend is always the best night because everyone is fresh, and the possibilities are endless. Baby Hangover and I felt this same tension of excitement and trepidation – maybe we’d build a fort, maybe he’d learn to walk and take care of himself, maybe we’d need to call Mrs. Hangover to get us from the hospital.
Like the first night of a bachelor party, the first day was a blur, and the alarm went off way too early on Day 2. Listen guys, we know we talked a big game last night about bloody mary’s with the sunrise, followed by 36 holes of golf. And I’m not judging, because I think you’re an innovator, but there’s no way I’m ready for that.
Fortunately, Baby Hangover is your friend with the metabolism of a horse and appears to show no ill effects of the 4 Red Bull Vodkas he consumed the night before. (Ed. Note – we know nothing about the metabolism of a horse. Also, we did NOT serve Baby Hangover any Red Bull or Vodka.)
So, we embark on day 2, a little worse for the wear, but able to summon enough energy to power through. We may have thrown up beside the first tee box during our metaphorical round of golf, but we made it through the day. However, Baby and Mrs. Hangover are starting to get skeptical midway through the day. We notice at one point while we are changing a diaper, that the baby monitor camera has swung 90 degrees away from the crib and is pointed directly at us as we attempt to quiet the baby.
Day 3 and we have abandoned the bachelor party. There were big plans of a full day of drinking on the beach, but we feel so awful we woke up at 6am and just drove home. The rest of the group likely won’t notice. Our real day is highlighted by a 2-hour FaceTime with Grandma and Grandpa Hangover, which sets a FaceTime record. Ironically, it was also the only two-hour window he didn’t scream for dear life. Also, our Apple Watch informs us that we are only 900 calories away from meeting our goal of 950 for the day at 7pm. Fortunately, a brisk 6-hour walk will achieve our goal!
Day 4, and we have a fresh wind and are coming in hot with some fresh ideas. We decide to get creative and use some sofa cushions as obstacles for Baby Hangover to climb on. This tactic even gets high marks from Mrs. Hangover, who remains upstairs, watching, listening, judging. Baby actually seems impressed after a day of “Ok, this isn’t funny, where is Mom?” looks. We’re in the process of submitting our self-nomination for Dad of the Year, when Baby topples over backward and hits his head on something called the “Zany Zoo.” Screaming and crying ensues. Text from Mrs. Hangover reads, “Little spill?” Uhhh, yes? Now, Baby Hangover makes lots of noises that sound like words, but we’re pretty sure he doesn’t understand the exact meaning of the phrases he uses like “Go to Hell, Duke” but he definitely screamed for his mom for about an hour after this incident. (Ed. Note – Baby Hangover was totally fine. He has his mother’s toughness.) We get Baby to bed and Dad falls asleep on sofa at 8:15. We blame the Bills and Ravens for playing a game that was tied at 3 at half-time (see, sports!).
Day 5, and we’ll be honest, we’re hanging on by a very thin thread. But we’re nothing if not persistent. We believe in the power of the sofa cushion, but did make some key adjustments by placing several of them inside an enclosed baby fence. We also removed any large wooden boxes from the premises. We quickly realize we’ve locked our child in a room with padded walls, and you know what? We’re not made about it. In fact, we join him.
Our moment of Zen is interrupted when our phone goes off. It’s a text from our mother – how thoughtful. Oh wait. It’s a picture from about 15-20 years ago, and let’s just say, we weren’t exactly in peak physical condition. The picture contains the caption, “Is this you? We honestly can’t tell.” And the knife twists just a little bit more in our heart.
Meanwhile, Baby Hangover has resorted to turning to the Hangover Hound, Sadie, for parenting and mentorship. Sadie is a Treeing Walker Coonhound who was rescued from a trash dump in Michigan. She’s a wonderful pet, who after five years living in a house, receiving food, love and attention has never forgotten her roots. She won’t let a piece of trash pass without attempting to eat it. However, more impressively, if she happens to not eat a piece of trash, she will always remember its location. It could be days in between, and we’ll walk past where a Krystal wrapper was on the ground, and she’ll go searching for it.
Why are we telling you this? Because Baby Hangover has developed this same skill but for objects that he wants to be toys, but are not, in fact, toys. Earlier today, he was crawling around the house and came upon the office, which has a small bar in it. You didn’t think we were this clever without some help, did you? Anyway, he’s immediately drawn to the bar. He comes by this honestly. What will he go for – the bourbon? The Scotch? No, the Tonic Water. We’re a little relieved and a little disappointed at the same time.
We decided that playing with a liter of tonic water was probably not the best idea, so we carried Baby Hangover back into the Den of Fun (i.e.. The padded cell) where he played gleefully for about 30 minutes. We took him out and he immediately crawled with a pace that has us emailing the film to track coaches back to the bottle of tonic water.
We survive the day and make it to bath time, which has some additional challenges with only one parent involved. We’ll save you all the details, but tonight’s version of bath time began with Baby H sitting on a towel on the floor of the bathroom naked while we filled the bath. We were pretty proud of the slight adjustments to the process we made, as we weren’t exactly enjoying smelling poop filled diapers all during bath time, since apparently its frowned upon to leave your child unattended in a bath to throw crap-filled diapers in the diaper bin. Anyway, Baby H was not as thrilled, and decided to pee all over the bathroom. That counts as being potty-trained, right?
Anyway, all we know is that if Mrs. Hangover records a negative COVID test tomorrow, life can return to whatever normal is this week. So, we’re feeling a sense of hope. Or maybe that’s just the buzz from the IPA’s we’ve consumed since Baby H went to bed.
So, with that behind us, let’s check and see what happened in the world of sports this past week. We can always count on college basketball to lift our spirits. What’s that? Carolina, Chattanooga and Michigan all lost on Saturday. Well, you know what? $*&# YOU 2021!
We’re headed to
the bar bed with hopes of good news and better week ahead. Which, given the past few weeks, is a pretty low bar to clear.
PS – the Progressive ads are the best thing going on television. And not just because we groan every time we sit down and we pronounced it KWE-NO-UHH for the first 38 years of our existence. Live, Laugh, Love!