Sitting in the baby's room at three in the morning, wearing a shirt covered in various shades of baby formula puke, I contemplate my brilliant career. I'm really not sacrificing much to raise Josie. It's been months since I've received a call from a contact looking for help on a video shoot. I'm not even hearing stories of anyone working on projects outside of non-paying documentaries. It's like I picked the right time to become the stay at home dad.
I do have to find the time to work on my Chinese project that went on hold the day that Becky broke her water. But it's hard to get in the zone and focus when 90 percent of my time at the computer is me typing with one hand and coming up with creative ways to keep the bottle in Josie's mouth.
I need to change this t-shirt. It's like one of those t-shirts they sell at the beach that say "Damn Gulls" with the droppings scattered on the fabric.
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