Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [132]
I became the master of scheduling. Every minute was planned for during the course of a day. Time was not to be wasted, even when I didn’t work, for my responsibilities didn’t end there. To accomplish everything, I compartmentalized my life into little boxes: If I wasn’t working, I was dad, or husband, and I focused on those areas as intensely as my work. In the same way I sought my parents’ approval, I sought my family’s. I couldn’t be simply dad, I tried to be super-dad: I coached soccer teams, attended gymnastics practices, helped with homework, played catch, and spent the weekends boating, bowling, swimming, and heading to the beach. I continued working with Ryan informally—he no longer needed intense structure—and played on the carpet with Landon every night. I tried to be the best husband I could, helping around the house, and doing my best to romance my wife. Somehow, despite all that, I squeezed in time to earn a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, lift weights, and jog daily. I continued to read a hundred books a year.
I slept less than five hours a night.
It wasn’t all bad news, however. In the spring of 2001, I picked up the phone to hear Micah’s excited voice.
“Christine is pregnant,” he said. “We just found out.”
“Congratulations,” I said sincerely. “When’s the baby due?”
“January,” he said. “Just like Landon. And the twins will be only a few months old when she’s born, so they’ll have fun as cousins when they get older. When are the twins due?”
“Late August. How’s Christine holding up?”
“Great, so far. She wouldn’t have even known that she was pregnant except for the home pregnancy test she took.”
“That’s wonderful,” I enthused. “I’ll tell you, though—it’s going to change your life.”
“I know. I can’t wait.”
“You ready for this? Being a father?”
“Of course I’m ready. I’ve raised Alli since she was two.”
“That’s when they start getting easy. Wait until there’s a newborn. It’s a whole different world.”
“Any words of advice you want to offer? Since it’s my first time, and you’re the expert?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Toward the end of the pregnancy, see all the movies you can.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I said, “you’re not going to see another movie for at least a year.”
“Yeah, we will. Christine loves movies.”
“Trust me,” I said. “Nothing can change a lifestyle more than having a baby.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. Despite myself, I smiled inwardly. He’d learn soon enough.
“And Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations again. Everything changes, but it’s a change for the better.”
“Thanks, little brother.” He paused. “Oh yeah, one more thing—Cat wanted me to tell you this.”
“What’s that?”
“Quit working so hard.”
“I will when you start going to church again.”
We both laughed.
“This is great,” I said. “I’m happy for you and Christine.”
“Me, too.”
I didn’t listen to my brother. Or to my wife.
By early summer 2001, one year after my sister’s death, Cat was heavy with twins, and I had to take on even more responsibility, since she couldn’t keep up with the toddler or the older boys. To meet those additional demands on my time, I found myself sacrificing more sleep. Throughout that summer, I averaged less than three hours a night, and though I felt like a zombie when I stumbled out of bed, I quickly poured a cup of coffee, and charged into my day.
And I went and went and went. Working. Watching the kids. Taking care of Landon. Cleaning the house. Go, go, go.
Somehow, I was pulling it off. But a pace like that isn’t normal, nor is it realistic. Something had to give, and for me, it was not only sleep, but simple downtime during the day. No lazy mornings sleeping in, no poker games with friends, no time to watch sports on television. I rushed through lunch and dinner.