I am a man of routine... serious routine. So much so, that I actually wear the same outfit everyday at work: black buttoned down oxford and slate grey slacks. The gals at the drycleaners have moved me on from strange customer to quirky regular. It's to the point that when they see me coming, my black shirts are waiting for me when I walk in the door.
The gals at the Subway near my office, know that it'll be a 6-inch turkey and bacon sub or a meatball sub. One or the other. At Quodoba: chicken quesadilla, and at McAlister's, the Greek Chicken wrap. The college employees at the Starbucks on campus (I work at a college) call me White Mocha Guy.
Yep, that's me. I like it. Routine is comforting. We all have these little routines in our lives. Some more than others. Having a kid changes all that. No more routines.... life is one big poopy spasm now. I'm learning to let go.
I am having trouble in one area though. I can adjust to the late nights and the random need for comfort and affection... hell, I love that. But I cannot abide the paradigm shift in my pants.
Some backstory
No pants o'clock is a sacred time in our house... it's a state of mind and, of course, a state of lower garment status. It's not what you think though. It's not sexy or naughty, it's not kinky like naked Thursday or hot fudge Friday (we actually don't have days like that... I swear). No, no, it's a comfort thing. Essentially, no pants o'clock is that time of day (anytime really) when you declare, either out loud or internally, that you are in for the rest of the day. You take off your "day" pants (shorts, skirt, suit...whatever) and get into whatever garments you put on to relax. For some it's workout shorts, or sweatpants... whatever.
No pants o'clock is in a state of flux in our house. There is a disturbance in the force. I must admit I'm having a little trouble adjusting. They say you never realize all the ways a kid will change your life. My buddy told me when his son was born that he figured he knew all the areas of his life that fatherhood would touch. But there would be a few sacred parts that escape, that remain pure. Then he was a dad, then he knew... it's all up for grabs.
I figured no pants o'clock would not only remain intact, but it would indeed increase. Come home, kiss my wife and daughter, walk the dog and then BAM! No pants o'clock until the morning. But when you're a new parent, you need distractions. While you're walking around the house with your sleeping newborn, because that's the only thing keeping her asleep, you need a little something with you. Lying in your arms as you gently coo and rock your baby to sleep in one arm, you are battling zombies or checking FacebookTwitterPosterousGoogleReaderSquarespacestatsAudioBoo..etc., controlling your iTunes library and all the other things you can do with an iPhone. So as you can see... there's an issue. Because in order to do all those things, you need to carry or have the iPhone readily available. Best way to do this: PANTS!
But No Pants o'clock typically involves lower garments that either have no pockets or have pockets that are lacking. Not only that, but which pocket do you use? I mean, I could put it in one pocket and then that could be the side I'm holding Rockhopper Baby. I've already gotten used to it in one particular pocket (remember, creature of extreme habit here). I tried shifting it to the arm I typically do not hold my daughter in, but it doesn't feel "right" when I'm out and about. It's in the pocket it's in not just for comfort, but also for functionality. Seriously, I think about this stuff way, way way, way too much.
So how do I get the iPhone out without shifting, moving, altering and ultimately waking the baby? You can see my concern and consternation about this issue.
I've tried leaving the iPhone out, but then I misplace it within the house. I've tried keeping it in my back pocket but that doesn't work when I want to sit or when I'm wearing pants with no back pockets (sweatpants).
I know there's an answer out there. I'll find it. Somehow, somewhere, I will get through this.
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