At no other point in your life do you get a chance to let control go over yourself that completely to anyone or anything else. And the greatest part of it all is that you give that very control up to the person you trust the most: you.
Alright, maybe the crazy you is the one that gets the control. The you that is convinced, although not talked about, that you are still eligible for the draft because you never gave up your amateur status. Sure, you are closer to 40 than you are to 30, way closer. But yet, in the eyes of the MLB, still having that amateur status. Crazy you never gives up on your dreams. Nope because he's actually the guy in charge of them.
In real life, you would you never put on a viking horned helmet, jump on to some monstrous enlarged my little pony and charge off to fight the evil dark underlords of the underpants? Of course you would not. The underlords are some scary mother fuckers you want no part of their underpants kingdom. But in sleep, crazy you cannot wait to saddle up Rainbow Dash and start giving out wedgies of justice. Crazy you, the one in charge of your dreams, is the Samuel L Jackson from pulp fiction. Your wallet says bad mother fucker on it in your dreams. And in those dreams you would use that wallet to keep your black Amex card that you will surely need as you buy your very own island. Why an island? Because you are never going to recreate Jurassic Park in the middle of freaking Manhattan. I think we all know how that turned out, thank you very much bad sequels. But don't worry, on your island, crazy you will do it right. You will start by not cloning any valociraptors or T-rexes. That was mistake number 1. Perhaps crazy you is also sensible. How nice.
However, sex. Sex is awesome.
Sex is the primal driving force of our entire evolutionary chain. It is the very basic instinct that must be met. It is the dynamic that very much preserves the species. It is how you leave your legacy, it's how you build something greater than yourself. And it feels really, really, really super nice.
That's just one of the great benefits of sex. But there are many more. You can have drunk sex where you get a freebie in the regrets department, an automatic pass on a bad decision. You can have angry sex, where you get to work out your deep emotional scars of your unfulfilled self. Thus you are saving thousands of dollars in therapy bills just by releasing what nature wants you to release anyway. You can have break up sex, you can have make up sex, you can have sex for any occasion. Sex is basically a pinata of pent up emotion. And boom, you're resolved in 5 to 15 minutes and in an emotionally blank space. At least for a good 30 seconds anyway.
Sex counts as exercise. It gets your heart rate up. You work muscles, it flattens tummys. It's a cardio vascular workout for both your physical and emotional self. It builds intimacy, creates a bond and if you are doing it right, a couple of funny stories to tell the buddies over beers. Sex is indeed awesome.
Which is why, as parents, choosing between the two (sex vs. sleep), can be soul crushing. You're busy, the kids and the house and the wife and the responsibilities. You don't get enough time for either. Each day you have to make one a priority. Sleep is awesome, we've covered that. Sex is also awesome, been over that as well. But the nature of our lives as parents don't leave enough room really for both on a Saturday night. Have some wild sex, you are giving up precious minutes of sleep. Have some wild dreams and nope, sex isn't on the table. Sure, you can have sex dreams but crazy you (he's in charge!) always fucks that up. Right at the good parts and bam, crazy you decides that it's time to throw a picture of cute kitty cat in the mix getting it's head lopped off by a chainsaw. Crazy you has some serious issues he needs to work out.
So what do you choose?
Well as parents, luckily, that decision actually isn't ours. Nope, we all gave that up. I gave up that decision 8 years ago. Yup, I no longer get to choose whether it's sex of sleep. I don't get to choose because as I'm laying there, making the pros and cons checklist of both, a sick 6 year old boy walks into the room. He wants snuggles because he has a temperature. And that means of course that he wants good old dad to put his hand on his back and tell him stories. And right when you get that done and you think ok, I'll take sleep tonight. The baby wakes up. He has decided he can't sleep without making sure dad hasn't been abducted by the Knight of the Underpants so he screams. Dad gets up and heads into his room to assure him that no Knight of the Underpants can contain him. Go to sleep while you still have the choice. Then you go to the bathroom and your oldest daughter wants to know why everyone is up at 3 am. It's a good question that you don't have an answer to.
And that's the beauty of parenthood that no one realizes until it's already done. You don't make the choice between sex and sleep anymore once you have kids. The choice is made for you! You are free of all responsibility! The burden is no longer yours to bare, you've given it off! Others now choose for you.
And what's the choice that is made, the one that you no longer have any input into anymore? The choice that you gave up without realizing it? Whats the final decision! Sex or sleep!
It's secret answer number 3. It's neither. You get no sex. You get no sleep. You instead get a cat that pukes in your slippers and a dog that farts in her sleep so loud that the other dog barks.
Or perhaps this is all just another dream and crazy you is actually just a dick.
These are the words that I told Hossmom on a Thursday during our beach vacation. I never expected her to come with us. This was supposed to be my gift to her. I was going to give her the entire day at the beach by herself. She could drink pina coladas in her brand new beach chair. All day. She could catch some rays without any baby vomit on her. She could swim in the waves without worrying if anyone is about to play shark on the back of her head. She was going to get the chance to relax. No one was going to throw sand at her, cry if they didn't get the last poptart or attempt to pull her bathing suit top off because they wanted to climb to the top of mount Hossmom.
"No, I want to go."
She said these words and I knew that this was a mistake but I didn't say anything. How could I?
I took me time and this Thursday was supposed to be Hossmom's time but it appears that she didn't want it. She wanted to adventure with us. Sometimes, I don't think she understands what that means, or had at least forgotten about how the kids and I adventure. You have to go hard with the kids, you have to be all in. You have to keep your energy level up, to match their excitement. And when the excitement is missing, you have to provide it for them. You have to motivate them. Otherwise they would want to stay inside watching TV all day and we just can't have that. No! We are out in the world, we are in a part of the country we have never been to before! There are things to be seen, quests to pursue! Thursday is adventure day! I asked her if she was sure if she wanted to go.
"Yes, I'm sure!"
It's like watching someone taking the wrong exit into the bad part of town. You think: yup, this isn't going to end well. We should watch the news tonight to see if they were car jacked.
When the kids and I go adventuring, it can be an endurance race. If I do it right, at the end of the adventure, we are usually exhausted and that's what I had planned for this day. There is no relaxing. It is constant motion, never ending wonder and conquering. When there is a problem we deal with it and make it part of the story. We build the memory whether or not the memory wants to cooperate with us or not. Did she understand this?
I asked her one more time. Just to be sure she knew what she was getting into. You are going adventuring with dad. Are you sure? I do this everyday. I have molded my entire experience of being an at home dad on this type of stuff. I have trained for 6 years for this kind of thing. This is not an office job. There is no lunch break where you talk about adult things. There is no afternoon meeting in an air conditioned conference room where you discuss marketing strategy's. Ten to one there will a Porta Potty involved somewhere along the way. Are you sure you want to go? Her answer was yes. There is only so much one can do but dammit if I wasn't proud of my little office trooper.
Later that day, after our third stop. I asked her if she wanted to go inside the air museum with us. I thought she was about to cut me.
Pina Coladas on the beach. I'm just saying that was a possibility on this wonderful Thursday.