Well, that took all of five seconds for her to feel comfortable. Her multiple personalities at this age have me chuckling as I introduce her to my coaches.
Ellie and Lincoln wave, and when I get to Ellie’s pocket-sized friend, I stall. “And this is…I’m sorry. I’m a terrible host. I didn’t get your name.”
Sophia begins to squirm in my arms. As I’m setting my flailing child down on the floor, I think I hear the woman say her name is Sadie. Before I can say a proper “hello,” Sophia is grabbing her hand and rushing her off to the living room, leaving me with Ellie and Lincoln.
They’re both chuckling as I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go make sure my daughter isn’t roping your friend into doing her makeup or something just as disastrous.”
As I make my way into the living room, I see Sophia has her farm animals set up and is introducing them all to Ellie’s friend. I’d love to stand here and watch them all day, but the sound of the doorbell ringing again steals me away.
I hear both of them laugh at something as I walk away,and the sound heals something inside of me. Hearing Sophia laugh after being so broken-hearted this morning eases some of the tension I’ve been carrying all day.
But I can’t help but wish it was her mom playing with her and making her laugh like that.
FOUR MONTHS LATER
It’s not every day I find myself strapping my almost five-year-old into her car seat so we can head to goat yoga, but here we are.
After another nanny bailed on us today, I’m already ten minutes late to this ridiculous team bonding activity that the coaches have made attendance mandatory.
Sophia refused to leave the house wearing anything but her Elsa dress. Oh, and the matching shoes. I’m not entirely sure how, or why, I found one in the cheese drawer of the refrigerator, but that’s a question for later. After securing the dress, shoes, and, of course, her chosen stuffie of the day, we’re finally on our way.
Why the fuck can’t I find reliable childcare? I don’t think I’m asking too much. I’m offering someone a six-figure salary to care for my daughter whilelivingin my five-thousand square-foot home. My schedule as the captain of a NHL team isn’t typical, but you’d think I’d have qualified candidates lining up for this position. Well, you’d be sorely mistaken.
Before this last nanny bailed on us, I had to fire two othernannies for inappropriate conduct. One woman left a pair of underwear on my pillow, and I found the other guy snooping in my closet one night after I got home from a game. What the hell is wrong with people?
And yes, I run a thorough background check and contact all previous families they’ve worked for. Not a red flag in the bunch. I’m not sure if it’s something in the water, but I’m terrified to leave Sophia with anyone but my parents at this point.
Sophia’s voice cuts off my mental spiral. “Daaaaaaddddyyyyy!I want Selena Gomez!”
God forbid we listen to more than one song in the car.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize it was over already.” I push replay on the touchscreen of my Yukon XL, then glance at my daughter in the rearview mirror. Her eyes almost get lost in the back of her head with how dramatic of an eye roll she gives me. She must’ve learned that from her mother.
“It finished like an hour ago! You gotta pay more attention, Daddy.” Sophia shakes her head at me, as if I’m the most disappointing person on the planet. She sure is dramatic, but she’s so fucking cute I can’t even handle it sometimes.
Once we’re a few minutes away from our destination, I let Sophia finish the chorus of her favorite song then press pause on the touch screen.
“Daddy! I was listening to that!”
“I know. But I wanted to talk to you before we got to the yoga studio.” Glancing again in the mirror to see if she’s listening, I see her arms crossed over her chest and a less than pleased look on her face. “I need you to be a good listener when we get there. This is an important activity that my coaches planned for the team today. You have your backpack full of yourFrozentoys and coloring books to play with. It shouldn’t take too long. Afterward we can head to the bookstore to pick out a new book. How does that sound?”
She huffs out an exasperated sigh before responding. “Iknow!You already told me all this at home. Why can’t I go to Mummo and Pappa’s house? I’m going to be so bored!”
Ah, yes. The infamous “I’m bored” stage of toddlerhood. We’ve been suffering through this stage for a solid week now. No matter if she owns more toys than one child should ever acquire in a lifetime, everything is boring.
I’ve kept the secret that there will be goats at this activity to myself. It’s not often I get to surprise my daughter with her favorite animal. As tempting as it is to tell her right now so she can lose her little attitude, I want to see the look on her face when she sees them today.
I level her with a look in the mirror. “Sophia, Mummo and Pappa deserve some alone time too. You’ll be okay playing alone for an hour.”
Honestly, I’m saying that out loud more to reassure myself than to reassure her. She has no problem playing alone when she’s with one of her nannies, but the second I walk through the door, her independence flies out the window.
I know she’s just craving one-on-one time with me, and I do my best to give her as much of my time as I can every day, but right now, we’re a month away from the playoffs and our team is struggling.
I’m putting extra time in at the rink with the rookies to go over our special teams and anything they may be struggling with. My captainly duties are in full force these days, and our travel schedule has been brutal the past month. Losing makes everything ten times worse. I’ve been overly exhausted and running a million miles a minute.
Maybe this goat yoga will be the miracle we need to learn how to win again.
Ha. Wishful thinking.
