She's Buggin Who?

There was an old rap song by Ed O.G. and the Bulldogs called "Bug-A-Boo" and it went a little something like this:

"Now this is the meaning of a Bug-A-Boo
It's a person who's constantly BUGGIN YOU
Never givin you no room TO BREATHE
On you like skin, or a shirt WITH SLEEVES
A person that constantly wants to be around you
It could even be your moms or pops when they hound you
Just someone who's always botherin you
If you was a plant, they'd be continuously watering you"

Now Ed must have been some kind of psychic, clairvoyant, fortune telling hip hop artist, to so accurately describe in 1991, my life with my precious three year old. It's like he spent a day with us and went right into the studio to record this song.

I understand that it's normal for a three year-old to crave the attention of their parents but I'm sorry, there's a line that separates normal attention seeking and Bug-A-Booing. And Morgan crosses that line every day at about 9:17 a.m.

For example: If your kid eats two packs of oatmeal, a whole apple (sliced just the way she likes it without the skin), and a cup of chocolate milk at 8:21 am, there's no way she should be shuffling into the kitchen at 8:32 claiming hunger. No way.

But like I said, I get it. Whatever it takes to get mom or dad's attention is fair game even if it's asking the same question every 5 minutes.

9:04 am: Daddy can we go to the swing park?
No baby, it's raining.
9:09 am: Daddy can we go to the swing park?
No baby it's raining.
9:14 am: Daddy can we go to the swing park?
No baby it's raining.
9:19 am: Daddy can we go to the swing park? Daddy? Daddy? Daaaaaaaaddy? Daddy I'm talking to you.

And it's no coincidence that this Bug-A-Boo-ness gets worse after a visit from a grand or great grandparent.

Yeah, I said it.

These people come into your home and devote every minute they're there to showering your kids with love, affection and worst of all ATTENTION. But THEN....they leave! And now we're stuck with these little people who have grown accustomed over the course of one week, to being the center of attention, 24/7. And when reality sets in that mommy and daddy lack the patience or desire to forego eating or paying bills just to play memory for the 213th time, then that's when they regress to Bug-A-Boo form.

In the short time it took me to post this, I've heard:

Daddy I'm hungry again.
Daddy I'm thirsty.
Daddy can I play the guitar?
Daddy, Papi is in his doghouse.
Daddy can you turn the t.v. down?
Daddy I can't hear the t.v.
Daddy is this your shoe or mommy's? (with heels)
Daddy I don't like birthmarks.
Daddy is the season now or rectangle? (she's desperate)

So Ed O.G., I applaud your special gift to see into the future but I would kindly ask you NOT to include anymore of my family's personal business into your records. No matter how accurate it may be. And now as I end this post with Morgan sitting on my lap, I send a message to any of her grandparents who may be reading this: COME SOON.

Mixed Messages

There are so many facets of our lives where we have to decide whether to make decisions based on our hearts or our heads. In the past, during those horrible, disgusting, unsatisfying, meaningless days of bachelorhood, I struggled with these kinds of decisions constantly. If my heart said "call the girl so she knows you're thinking about her", then my head would say "whatever you do, DON'T call her. Because then she'll know that you're thinking about her".

Even in my professional life I'd struggle with this kind of internal debate. My heart might say "go ahead and stay until the job is done. Establish yourself as reliable and competent". Meanwhile the thought upstairs was "whatever you do, DON'T stay late because then they'll always expect you to stay late. And they're not even paying overtime." Just confusing.

And now that I'm a dad I'm realizing that Heart vs. Head dynamic is still an issue. Except now we're talking about raising well-rounded kids who will one day be able to take care of themselves. So the stakes are much higher than expressing my feelings for some girl or getting "cool points" from my boss.

Here are some examples of the battle between my head and heart when it comes to raising daughters.

Hitting:
Heart - If someone hits you, you hit them back. Hard. It's the only way they'll realize that you're not the best target of their aggression.
Head - If someone hits you, go tell an adult. Violence usually only leads to more violence like in Boyz in The Hood. And who's to say you might not raise a future bully?

Eating:
Heart - If you don't want to eat what mom made for dinner, fine. Get ready for your bath and then it's straight to bed. You'll just be hungry.
Head - If you don't want to eat what mom made for dinner, TOO BAD. Eat it anyway, and if you don't, there will be consequences and repercussions because if you don't, you'll just be hungry.

Sharing:
Heart - The world would be a better place if everyone learned how to share and cooperate with one another. If your sister lost her toy, let her play with yours for a little while and everyone is happy.
Head - The world would be a better place if everyone learned how to appreciate what they have. If your sister lost her toy, that's on her for not taking better care of it. Why should you have to suffer for her carelessness?

Being Nice:
Heart - Be nice to people in general. Respectful and polite. Pleasantness begets pleasantness and isn't that what the world needs more of these days?
Head - You don't know those people, keep your distance. You don't have to smile and wave at everybody you see. People are crazy these days and you just can't trust them.

So see, there are pros and cons to every way of thinking and like I said, with the stakes so high it's almost impossible to say which is right and which is wrong. It's almost like a coin toss and however it falls you have to just go with it and hope your heart or your head hasn't led you astray.

The Other One

There were a lot of changes and adjustments that I prepared for when my four year-old started Pre-K this year. None of which included the extra time I would spend with my two (almost three) year-old. As I bathed in the glory of the absence of one, I shamefully overlooked the presence of the other.

It never dawned on me that with the oldest out of the picture, the youngest would be able to take full advantage of having daddy all to herself, for at least seven hours a day. And it's almost been like meeting her for the first time. All of the things I thought I knew about my baby are true, but then there's more.

For example, I always knew she was a sweetheart but I didn't realize just how funny she can be. I say funny but maybe silly is a better description. Either way, she keeps me laughing whenever we're in the same room (despite my futile attempts to NOT be in the same room).

I always knew she was smart. Like "let's get her tested" type of smart. But now that we can sit down and talk about whatever she wants, without any interruptions or interference from outside influences named mom or sister, I am blown away by some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth. Her vocabulary is off the charts for an "almost three year-old". We were searching for her new Princess slippers the other day and I said, "you had them last, where did you leave them?" And she shrugged her shoulders and said "I don't know. It's mysterious."

Now her usage may have been a little awkward but yet appropriate.

But it hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows as I've also learned a lot about her temper and stubbornness. But if she were sitting here (and could type) I'd bet she'd be saying the same thing about me. So we'll call that one a draw.

But otherwise I've been enjoying getting to know my baby during our alone time but it also makes me realize that I've been allowing her sister to dominate my time and attention when she's around. And if you know her then you know that I can't be held completely accountable for that. It's like blaming a blade of grass for being swayed by a gust of wind. #ForceOfNature.

But I'll do better.

Go Forth and Matriculate

Oops, I got so caught up in the excitement of my 4 year-old starting Pre-K that I've neglected my blog and all four of you that read it. It's been a bit of a rush making the transition from parents of two small at-home children to one small at-home child and one STUDENT.

Just some of the new additions and practices that can be found in our home now include, backpacks, lunchboxes (which are a lot fancier these days than when I carried one), school lunches, uniforms, and notes from the teacher (all good of course).

Becoming the parent of a student is almost like becoming a parent for the first time. The excitement, paranoia and anxiety rise to levels they hadn't reached since the first sonogram. "What's she going to be like?" becomes "What's she going to be like in school?". Before they're born you just hope your baby is healthy and when you send them off to school you just hope your baby is safe. One thing I'm learning about this parenting gig is that there's ALWAYS something to worry about, "from the womb to the tomb".

So just as I was starting to feel like I had the hang of our everyday tasks and concerns, I'm presented with an all new routine, different hurdles and a fresh new list of shi stuff that keeps me awake at night and staring at my phone during the day. All in the name of education.

And while she's off broadening her horizons at school, her little sister is home celebrating her liberation from sibling oppression, which brings its own set of anxieties. Without her big sister around it's become obvious rather quickly that the little one should be under constant surveillance while she discovers her new found freedom and tests her abilities and limitations.

So maybe not EVERYTHING has changed.

But like I said, it's all exciting. I wait anxiously to see what school brings out of her. Will she be a leader, a scholar, an athlete, shy, obnoxious, silly, assertive, passive, etc.? These are all of the same things I wondered about when she was born and now we've taken our first step to finding out.

School Busses and Boogeymen

I had a short conversation with Zari the other day about all of the things she was afraid of (my attempt at preparing her for her first foray into the "real world" a.k.a. Pre-K next week).

As she explained in her best "4-going-on-25-year-old" logic how noises in the dark make her think there are monsters in the room and how being alone downstairs makes her afraid that something will "get her", my adult mind automatically wanted to dismiss her fears as silly but I didn't.

I didn't because I realized that I also may have fears or anxieties that other may find "silly" or irrational and the last thing I want to hear is that those things that haunt me are unwarranted and/or impossible. For instance, I'm afraid to EVER let me daughter ride a school bus. Too much shi stuff goes wrong on school busses these days and I'd rather just avoid those possibilities altogether. Now some of you may think that's "silly" but no one is going to convince me that "there's nothing to worry about" on those rolling, yellow, vehicles of danger.

I read somewhere that instead of dismissing your child's fears, you should use rationale and logic to help dispel those fears. So instead of saying "there's no such thing as monsters" I should say something like "Daddy won't let any monsters get you" or "monsters only live on school busses" or something along those lines. I get it.

Then it hit me; right now it's monsters, next year it may be swimming, and then public speaking, new schools, dating (cool with that one), leaving home, etc. There will always be a new fear for us to help them through, even as adults. I guess that's just one of the job descriptions of parenting. Always be there to apply rationale and logic to help them overcome the "fear of the day" so that they can continue moving forward.

Just not on a school bus. JS.

Playing Favorites

I've always heard that a parent should never show favoritism toward any of their children.  I can imagine the kinds of emotional baggage a child might start to accumulate if they ever began to feel like one or both parents may "like" their sibling just a little more than them.

With that being said, isn't it almost impossible not to "lean" one way or another even when it comes to your children? If you have more than one child, chances are one of them will share characteristics with you, both physically and otherwise. Is it so wrong if you get a little twinkle in your eye when you realize your oldest child shares your love for reading or when you learn that your middle kid is a neat freak just like you?

But I get it. That "twinkle" is natural and innate but the task is to not be overt about it. You can't come home to a messy child's room and say "look at this mess. Why can't you be more like your brother. You don't see his room in shambles like this." Not a good idea. But let's not pretend you have to be possessed by the devil to kinda, sorta like one kid more than the other....sometimes.

Hey, I love my babies equally with all of my heart but given certain circumstances and environments, would I choose to hang out with one over the other? Absolutely hell yes, one hundred percent, most definitely, for sure, you bet!

Don't hate me, I'm just saying.

When I'm in the mood to just sit down in a quiet room and listen to music peacefully for 30-45 minutes, I know exactly who to invite to sit on my lap and listen with me. But that's not the same kid that gets excited about helping me with yard work. Two different kids, two different personalities that I FAVOR for different reasons.

So favoritism in general, as a one-time broad stroke of a parenting brush = bad. But favoritism as an equal opportunity, right time, right place, certain circumstance kind of concept = good. And as far as I'm concerned this gives them their own time to feel special because they know that they have their "thing" with Dad, whether it's eskimo kisses or making up secret handshakes and they'll always have reasons to feel like my "favorite".

And then they'll grow up, get married and forget all about me....sniff..sniff (I need a tissue).

The Hulk in All of Us

"Leave your sister alone!"

I used to love watching the old Incredible Hulk show with Bill Bixby and Lou Ferigno. But before I got older and able to recognize the symbolism and underlying message about self-control I used to think "why doesn't he just stop getting angry?" As if it were that simple.

Little did I know that I would never really understand David Banner's struggles to contain his anger and other volatile emotions until I became a father.

I don't think I've EVER in my life prior to having children had to literally sit down and catch my breathe without having exerted any physical energy whatsoever. Before becoming a dad I may have said "I've had it up to here" millions of times. But not until recently do I really know what it feels like to have "had it up to here".

It's like you can really feel yourself filling up with something that you know won't be good if/when it spills out. Whether it's frustration or anger or pure exhaustion from the relentless demands of small children it can all become overwhelming in a way that can be scary sometimes.

And I've learned that it all boils down to patience and being aware enough to know when you'd better retreat and find that quiet "place" in your head to keep that tea pot of emotion from boiling over. This becomes even more obvious on the news when someone has hurt their child for one stupid reason or another. Yeah, sometimes they're just evil people but sometimes they are decent people who were just ill-prepared for the rigors of being a responsible parent. Something was lacking whether it's maturity, patience or compassion, etc. all of which are "must-have" qualities when trying to raise children.

So David Banner, I apologize for minimizing your struggle against Hulking out. It takes a strong person to fight back the natural emotions that result from a beating, either physical or emotional whether by the hands of a ruthless gang leader or a ruthless 4 year-old. Kudos to you for always fighting the good fight and keeping your composure when it mattered most. And even for the times when you couldn't keep it together, at least you felt bad about it.

I bet you would have been a great parent.

Now That I'm Gone

I read a blog post the other day about a guy who had finally purchased life insurance and it spurred him to write a letter to his two daughters. It was for them to read in the event he met an early and unexpected demise. So of course it struck a chord in me and my mind started to wander.

Everything this guy was saying was so true and important for his daughters to hear but it was also so damn depressing. I might steal his idea and do the same thing but it'll probably take me a month to finish the letter because of how emotional I'll get while writing it.

How do you write a letter that expresses how you feel about your family AND try to explain the certainty of death but the uncertainty of the how/when of it? How do you ease their pain without exposing the pain you feel just from thinking about "that time"? I would want them to know how proud they've made me, but also the expectations I have for them to do great things in the future. That's a lot to put in one letter.

Then I realized that while I am still here I can make the letter easier to write by relaying some of this stuff to them now. Why wait until they have to read it in a letter? The  more I tell them how much I love them now, the less I have to put it in a letter for them to read later. Like they say, "why put off til tomorrow what you can do today". 

It puts a whole new spin on procrastination for me. It doesn't just apply to washing dishes, writing or mowing the lawn anymore. So I'll make a conscious effort to make sure the girls know enough while I'm here so they won't have to wonder once I'm gone. And if I commit to that, then by the time I'm 143 years old (because that's what I'm shooting for) and they're 110 and 108, I will have said everything there is to say. 

"Make sure your loved ones know how much you cherish them so that feeling stays with them long after you've gone" ~

The Twizzler Loophole

Sometimes when the girls are turned ALL THE WAY UP, they bombard me with questions, comments, complaints, instructions, demands, affection, and anything else that can be verbalized. It feels like someone dunking your head under water and letting you up for air for half a second before dunking you back under.

It's like drowning in little girls' voices and words. For the sake of self preservation I try all kinds of tricks and antics to finagle a moment of peace and quiet. Usually with minimal success.


Zari: Daddy is it almost lunch time?
Me: No it's only 9:30 Zari.
Morgan: Daddy I want to color. Can I color?
Me: Yeah, hold on, let me get the crayons.
Zari: Daddy are you going to give Morgan my crayons or her crayons?
Me: Why would I give her your crayons if she has her own.
Zari: I don't know.
Morgan: I want Zari's crayons.
Me: Too bad.
Zari: Daddy did you say too bad because Morgan is 2?
Me: No.
Morgan: I want to play with my puzzle.
Me: I thought you wanted to color.
Morgan: No I want to play with my puzzle.
Me: Fine.

(Give her the puzzle)

Zari: So you're not gonna give her my crayons?
Me: I never said I was.
Zari: Because she's not bigger than me and those are big girl crayons.
Me: Zari I'm not giving her your crayons. She's playing with her puzzle. Please leave me alone.
Zari: But..but...but...
Morgan: Stop saying "but" Zari.
Zari: No, you don't tell me what to say Morgee.
Morgan: Sowwy.
Zari: It's okay.

Me: Hey! Go sit down and take a talking break, please.
Zari: But daddy...
Morgan: Daddy I need help with my puzzle.
Me: Ask your sister.
Zari: I don't want to help her.
Me: Why not?
Zari: Daddy, you're not supposed to say why not? You're just supposed to say okay.
Morgan: Yeah daddy, you not supposed to say "why not".
Me: Okay, check this out. Whoever can stay quiet the longest gets one of daddy's Twizzlers.
Zari: Quiet?
Me: Yup. If you stay quiet longer than Morgee you can have a Twizzler but if you talk first then she gets the Twizzler.

They both take a moment to make sure they understand the proposition. Daddy NEVER shares his Twizzlers. He must be desperate.

Silence for about 2 minutes. And then...

Zari: Morgee can I have a bite of your Twizzler?


#Grrrr...

One Bad Apple

Everyone knows that siblings can be raised by the same parents in exactly the same way but be completely unique in their likes, mannerisms, attitudes, etc. For example.



Morgan/Zari: Daddy, daddy, we want some chocolate milk!
Me: Is that how you ask for chocolate milk?
Morgan: Yes!
Me: No.
Zari: Can we have chocolate milk please?
Me: Sure you can Zari.
Morgan: Me too?
Me: Not until you ask the right way.
Morgan: Can I have chocolate milk?
Me: Can you have chocolate milk what?
Morgan: Can I have chocolate milk TOO?!
Me: Wrong.
Morgan: Can I have chocolate milk pleeeeeaaaaase?
Me: That's better.

(Pour the chocolate milk and hand it to them. And wait.)

Me: Umm...
Zari: Oh. Thank you for the chocolate milk daddy!
Me: You're welcome. (waiting).
Me: Hello, Morgan, what do you say?!
Morgan: (holds up her cup) It's not enough.

#Woosaaa

Got Milk

We've been trying to make the transition from "Moo Cow" (milk), to other healthier alternatives. The girls are drinking soy milk (vanilla and chocolate), I'm drinking Lactaid and mom doesn't drink any of it. But right now we're at that stage where there's a little bit of everything in the fridge including good old fashioned pasteurized cow's milk. So sometimes explaining and/or understanding "which is which" and "who wants what", can get a little confusing for me the girls.


Morgan: Finished my eggs daddy. I want airplane milk.
Me: Is that how you ask for it?
Morgan: Can I have airplane milk please?
Zari: It's not called airplane milk Morgee, it's plain milk.
Morgan: It's airplane milk.
Zari: No, it's just plain milk. Right daddy?
Me: Just plain milk Morgan, or regular.
Morgan: Redjerlur? I want chocolate milk please.
Me: Well we're out of chocolate milk, baby. Mommy or daddy has to buy some more.
Morgan: I want Redjerlur milk please.

So I pour her a small cup of moo cow.

Morgan: Nooo daddy, this not redjerlur!
Me: Yes it is.
Morgan: This is airplane milk. It's white.
Me: I thought that's what you wanted. Do you want vanilla soy milk?
Morgan: Yes, redjerlur, baniyya soy milk.

I pour the vanilla soy and she's happy. Drinks it and runs off to play.

Zari: All done daddy. Can I have vanilla soy milk please?
Me: Yup.

I pour the vanilla soy milk and...

Zari: Daddy, this is not vanilla soy milk, this is brown!
Me: That is vanilla soy milk what are you talking about?
Zari: Vanilla is white, this is brown. Chocolate is brown.

Here comes Morgan.

Morgan: Chocolate? I want chocolate.
Me: It's not chocolate, it's vanilla.
Zari: No it's not.
Me: Yes it is!
Morgan: I want chocolate milk please.
Me: We don't have any.
Zari: Yes we do daddy, right here!
Me: That's vanilla soy milk girl. It's dark white!

They look at me like I'm crazy.

Me: That's vanilla soy milk, (grab the moo cow) this is plain milk and we don't have anymore chocolate milk, okay?
Morgan: Okay.
Me: So which one do you want Zari?
Zari: I want orange juice please.

#Grrrrr

Decisions, Decisions

Okay so here's the issue. I've been waiting for Zari to be old enough to take martial arts classes since the day hour minute she was born. In fact, from the moment the sonogram tech told us we were having a girl, I started having visions of a little kung-fu master kicking the asses of little boys from kindergarten all the way to the retirement home.

Finally she turned four and the time had finally arrived. We could finally begin the journey towards me being able to sleep at night after she has left the nest (because only 6 or 7 degrees of black belts will allow that level of inner peace).

Unfortunately, her first class didn't go how I imagined it would. She didn't break any boards or flip anybody over her back. Instead, my baby was a little shy, intimidated and a lot uncoordinated. But she never quit. Subsequent conversations lead me to believe that she could do without having to ever go back (and yet she walks around the house practicing the few things she learned in the first class).

Now on the other hand, an hour doesn't go by without her singing a new tune or turning the living room into the soul train dance floor, a ballet studio or the main stage on dance fever. There's no doubt in our minds that singing and dancing is her "thing". She absolutely loves it and hence my dilemma.

If a little boy takes your toy, you can't kick his ass with singing and dancing!

The Wife and I agree that if we encourage the things the kids already love doing then they're more likely to stick with it and probably even excel. But...

If a boy tries to kiss you without your permission, you can't kick his ass with singing and dancing!

We've debated trading the karate classes for singing and dancing and my gut is telling me that it'd be the right thing to do. But my heart is screaming...

If somebody tries to throw her in a van, she can't kick his ass with singing and dancing!

In a perfect world we could let her do it all but the world isn't perfect and we're not rich. Besides that, at her age I don't want to stretch her out to thin with "this activity" and "that activity". I'll save that for 6th grade.

So, I'm rolling out a poll. And I'm anticipating the results to fall along the gender line but I could be wrong, we'll see. So if you have the time, go back to the comments on Facebook or reply on Twitter, what would YOU do? Encourage and promote the activity that she already loves EVEN if it could possibly only turn out to be a hobby? OR push the activity that she could grow to love that will have tangible benefits (like kicking boys' asses, defending herself) in the future?

A. Singing and Dancing

B. Martial Arts/Self Defense

C. Capoeira: The Brazilian martial art that combines music and dance (but she'd probably have to move to Brazil to learn it)

D. Something different altogether

24

Back in 2007 I self-published a book titled "Simple Complexities". If you missed it, HERE it is. One of the chapters in the book was called "24 Promises" and in it, I made 24 promises to my unborn children about what kind of dad I would be. At the time I was two years away from having my first daughter but I could feel a "little daddy" just waiting to bust out.

Well it's six years, one wife, and two daughters later and I thought I'd revisit "24 Promises" to see if I've been a man of my word.


#1 - I promise to always give you a spanking when you deserve it, and to tell you that "this hurts me more than it hurts you".  I'm 50/50 on this one. But I'd better start practicing that line.

#2 - I promise to make you eat your vegetables ESPECIALLY when you don't want to, because they're good for you. You just don't know it yet. Dinner time is always a battle, usually for this very reason. So, check.

#3 - I promise to protect you with my life because once you're here, my life will mean nothing if I lose you. I had no idea how true this was when I wrote it. Check.

#4 - I promise to hug you when you cry. Little did I know how often this would occur. Check.

#5 - I promise to laugh at your corny jokes. And they are soooooo corny. Check.

#6 - I promise to NOT understand what you like about your favorite music. Thankfully this is not an issue yet. But I am starting to NOT understand my favorite music a little less every time I hear it.

#7 - I promise to nurture a strong relationship between you and your grandparents. This has been a win for everyone involved. Big check.

#8 - I promise to be disappointed when you don't maximize your potential. Not a problem yet and hopefully never will.

#9 -  I promise to celebrate when you succeed. Even when it means singing, cheering and dancing around like a fool. Check.

#10 - I promise to make you laugh when you fail. This is for me as much as it is for them. Check.

#11 - I promise to let you believe in Santa Claus until you figure it out on your own. No threat of that happening anytime soon. Check.

#12 - I promise to teach you that hard work yields the best results. She may not be "getting it" but I'm definitely teaching it. Check.

#13 - I promise to pass on my love for football. I'm passing but she ain't catching. NO check.

#14 - And my love for family. These girls spread more love than a Disney movie. Check.

#15 - I promise to clean up your messes. No matter what it may be, milk, food, paint, clothes, toys, sand, etc. Check, check and more check!

#16 - I promise to teach you how to clean up your own messes. She does what she can. We'll see how she does when she's older and the messes are a little more complicated. Check.

#17 - I promise to let you stay up late when mommy's not looking. No comment.

#18 - I promise to NOT get mad when you tell her I let you stay up late. I still can't believe you did that. NO check!

#19 - I promise to talk to you while you're in mommy's belly. I did it everyday. Check.

#20 - I promise to beat up your uncle when he lets you fall, get scratched, bleed, bump your head, eat too much junk food, taste his beer, watch scary movies or burn yourself. Uncle is safe but I should probably punch myself in the face a couple times.

#21 - To make you feel special every chance I get. Big check.

#22 - (for my daughter) Promise to spoil you rotten to your mother's dismay. You are spoiled rotten but it wasn't me. So no check.

#23 - (For my son) Promise to show you favoritism because you remind me so much of myself. This promise is probably why "baby karma" only gave me daughters.  No check.

#24 - I promise to make promises I can keep, and to keep the promises I make. So far so good. Check.

Mommy's Little Agent

I'm tired of going to the park and spending most of our time there pushing the girls on the swings or spinning them on the spinny thing. The idea is for them to use up all of their energy not mine. So I wised up and started taking them to one of the fields to pay tee-ball, race, run obstacle courses, throw the Frisbee or ball or just blow bubbles in the hot sun.

So that's what we were doing when two scantily clothed young women came onto the field with yoga mats and water bottles. I only mention their lack of clothing because I was so excited repulsed and can only hope my daughters were not negatively influenced.

But I digress


Young Lady: Can we share the field with you

Me: Of course

Young Lady 2: Your daughters are so pretty

Me: Thanks

Zari: Daddy? Where is that girl's shirt?

Me: Ssshh, girl she has on her exercise clothes. Mind your business. Go over there so I can throw the Frisbee to you

(she walks about 20 yards away and turns around. But before I throw, I turn to the yoga-ists)

Me: This won't make you nervous will it? We can move over.

Young Lady: No, no. You guys are fine. You were here first anyway.

(And THEN...at the top of her lungs from 20 yards away...)

Zari: Daddy! I'm readyyyyyy! Stop talking to that girl, she has a friend!

I can't WAIT for Pre-K to start!

#Woo-Saaa

Say What?

 

The other day Z and I were downstairs cleaning up the kitchen when Morgan, who had been banished to her room due to undesirable behavior, started talking to us from upstairs. On most days I have no problems understanding her toddler talk but today wasn't one of those days.

Morgan: Daddy! Whgty dfoilnbm wqqsa!

Me: What?!

Morgan:  Whgty dfoilnbm wqqsa!

Me: Huh?
(I'm confused so I look to the 4 year-old for help).

Me: What'd she say?

Z: Um, let me see. WHAT'D YOU SAY MORGEE?!!

Morgan: Whgty dfoilnbm wqqsa!

Z: Oh. We're cleaning the kitchen and you were being bad.

Morgan: Bgh clqwaz vzz342 tlpaftq.

Z: Okay. Do you feel better now?

Morgan: Qcvploiurtge Fv.

Z: Okay.

Now I'm looking around for hidden cameras or something. Is this like one of those practical jokes the Huxtables used to play on Cliff?

Z: Mommy's working okay?

Morgan: Okay
(I understood that)

Z: Just watch Max and Ruby for a little while.

Morgan: Vlopti xawqsxzmort bwed?

Z: Yes.

Then I heard Morgan walk back to her room. So either I'm getting Punk'd or these girls are some kind of geniuses that created their own sibling language that only they can understand.

Me: What the... what was she saying?

Z: Oh silly daddy.

Me: What?

Z: I have no idea what she said. (continues cleaning like nothing happened).

#WooSaa

Rose

Anybody who is lucky enough to have had relationships with their grandparents know that the love you feel from a grandmother is a special. As a kid I had the privilege of having relationships with all FOUR of my grandmothers (I won't get into semantics).

I'm lucky to be able to say that three of my grandmothers are still "here", even if my relationships with them have changed a little as I've gotten older. But I'm writing this post because a few nights ago I had a dream about the grandmother that I lost.

It was one of those moments when you wake up with a smile on your face because the dream made you happy. You don't remember any of the specifics, maybe it was a pleasant memory or just something conceived completely by your imagination. But you just know it made you happy.

But the longer I layed there thinking about her, my mood started to change because I started to realize that now as an older, more mature man I can look back and recognize everything about her that made her such a great grandmother and beautiful person but it stinks that if I didn't realize it back then, then there's no way I could have expressed it, which would mean she would have no way of knowing how much I appreciated and loved her.

And trust me, you can kiss sleep goodbye whenever you have a late night epiphany that makes you feel like a sh***y person.

As a child you wear your emotions on the outside. So if you love someone or think someone is funny or nice, or smart, they'll know it because you'll tell them or show them somehow. Then when you get a little older it's not cool anymore to put all of your emotional cards on the table like that so you leave them bottled up. Then you get even older and you realize that it is important to express how you feel to your loved ones but your "life" takes up all of your time and you just never get around to it. I think that's where I was in my life when I lost my grandmother. I knew what her significance was to my life and I knew how I felt about her, but I just never got around to telling her.

I know what people will say, "don't be too hard on yourself" or "she knew how you felt", but I'll always ask myself, how would she know if I didn't tell her? I think I should continue to be hard on myself and allow these feelings to sink in so that I don't let this happen again.

I'm sure people told her all the time that she was a good wife, great mother, wonderful grandmother and a beautiful, kind woman with an amazing spirit.

But after everything she did for me as a kid, I just wish I had a chance to be one of those people.

A Hiccup Scenario

So last night somehow I found a quiet corner of the house and tried to catch up on my reading (nothing deep, The Walking Dead Book 4) and as usual, right on cue, here SHE comes with another emergency.

Zari: Daddy!
Me: What?!
Zari: I have the hiccups! What do I do?

(I'm thinking, I have to teach her the difference between an emergency and an annoyance).

Me: Umm, stand on your head.
(She tries to stand on her head. Funniest 2 minutes of my day)

Zari: It didn't work.
Me: Okay, try running around in circles.
(So I'm making stuff up, but she doesn't know that)

Zari: It didn't work but I'm dizzy silly.
(She's the one that just ran around in circles for 5 minutes but I'm silly?)

Me: Okay, let me scare you.
Zari: No.
Me: You have to let me scare you and the hiccups will go away.
Zari: No way Jose.
Me: Your grandma used to do it to me all the time and it worked.
(Lies. But it's amazing what a kid will do if you tell them "grandma used to do it")
Zari: Okay.

(She closes her eyes and I wait ten seconds and yell BOO! And she actually jumps. But...)

Zari: That didn't work daddy.
Me: Well I don't know what to tell you baby. Suck it up.
Zari: But daddy I want the hiccups gone!
Me: Well, you could stop talking. That might make them go away.
Zari: Stop talking? How long?
Me: Until they're gone.

Zari: Um, thanks Daddy.
(walking away)
Me: Where you going?
Zari: Going to ask Mommy how to stop the hiccups.

Grrrrrrrrrr.......

#LOLMoment       #AndStayOut

Daddy's Little Hero

When I was a teenager my dad started telling me that I was his hero. He still says it from time to time now that I'm 27 29 32 35 okay fine, 37. I always thought and still think it's so corny and makes me feel uncomfortable in that "I don't know how to respond to that" kind of way. I mean, how could a 16 year-old kid who hasn't done ANYTHING in his life be someone's hero. Especially his own father.


And then I had kids.

Every thing about my 4 yr old daughter amazes me. Every parent believes that their kid is special, beautiful, smart, creative, etc. and that's our duty and our right. I fill with pride whenever she says something smart or sings a song that she made up all by herself. There are so many things that she does that may seem small in the grand scheme but through my eyes it's like watching Beethoven compose a new symphony or Michael Jackson moonwalk for the first time. I'm amazed. It's like.....

She's my HERO.

That's not to say she can do no wrong but even when she does, she does it well.

Sometimes she'll say or do something and my wife and I will look at each other and ask, "did you teach her that?" Most of the time the answer is a unanimous "no". But I don't even care. It's like watching a magician do the impossible. You know there's a reasonable explanation to how he did it but who wants to spoil the excitement of the illusion? Not me, that's who. 

It's only been four years but I already can't say enough about this kid and how sweet, beautiful, smart, funny, creative, caring, and special she is. But all parents say that, I get it. I've heard plenty of corny clichés from parents about their kids, like "It's like seeing the world in a whole new way...", or "It's like I'm experiencing life through her eyes...", and "she's the best thing I've ever done in my life...", etc. But none of it sounds corny when I say it about my kid. It all sounds true.

So when my dad says we're his heroes now, I get it. We may not have cured cancer or saved a school bus full pf children from driving off a bridge but we have done things to make him proud and I guess for parents even the smallest things shine brightly when your children are involved. Like every time my baby celebrates after throwing her ball into the toy box from across the room. As far as I'm concerned she just hit the game winning shot at the buzzer in the NBA Finals.

I get it now.

(p.s. - imagine how the parents of the person that does cure cancer are going to feel. Wow.)

Fairweather

Morgan got a little rambunctious during lunch the other day so I had to send her to sit in her room...

...alone

...with no television.

Five minutes later as we sat in the kitchen listening to her best impression of someone really crying, Zari jumps up from her seat and her unfinished lunch and says,

Zari: "Daddy I have to go check on my sister"

Me: "No you don't, sit down."

Zari: "But daddy I have to make sure she's okay"

Me: "All you have to do is sit down and finish your lunch."

And as she steadily takes small steps closer and closer towards the doorway,

Zari: "But that's what good big sisters do, they check on their little sisters when they get in trouble."

Me: "Well if you don't sit down and finish your lunch, she's not going to be the only one in trouble"

And just like that, she turned back towards her lunch as if she had no idea what had come over her and said,

Zari: "Well, I think she'll be okay. I don't know why she acted like that daddy."

Lol. #Fairweather

Daddy Magic

It was like a sucker punch straight to the gut. She said...
"Found it Daddy. Your Daddy magic is gone."

WHAT?!

How dare she. There I was performing the same rinky dink magic (but not really) trick I always did when she asked. I put the little squishy ball in my right hand, distract her with my left and then throw the ball behind the couch while she's not looking. Works like a charm.

Well, it used to.

But this time not only did she NOT fall for the distraction but she kept a very close eye on my right hand watching its every move. Finally I managed to distract her by making her laugh and she closed her eyes just long enough for me to get rid of the ball. But instead of her being amazed when I opened my right hand, she says...

"Okay, now bring it back."

WHAT?!

She never asked me to do that before. Now what? But before I could even respond that's when she walked to the back of the couch, found the ball, brought it back to me and said...

"Found it. Your Daddy magic is gone."

Now I don't know if there's a conspiracy in the house and maybe I've been ratted out by her mother but this won't stand. No self respecting Dad wants to hear those words...

"Your Daddy magic is gone."

Time to buy a magic book and get my Daddy magic back. The nerve of some little people.

My Body Is A Temple

(That's me.......for real.)

 

I don't want to toot my own horn but in my prime I was a pretty decent physical specimen (toot toot) but time caught up with me and before I knew it, one missed workout here, an extra serving of Mama's Mac-n-cheese there, and all of a sudden I'm adding new notches to my belt (literally).

Needless to say I got my ass in gear and made am making some changes. Domestication and Netflix have a lot to do with my motivation. Now I'm back on track and here are ten reasons to NOT fall off the rails again (in no particular order):


1  I remember when we were dating, my wife would peek while I got dressed/undressed. Now she looks away or leaves the room.

2  I have to live long enough so that one day these girls will have to take care of me. The best way to achieve vindication for all the dirty diapers, crying and emotional abuse is to make them deal with dirty diapers, crying and emotional abuse. It's the only way I'll ever feel like I got "payback".

3  The Zombie Apocalypse! (The Walking Dead version - watch)

4  "Approximately 41 percent of African American males have nearly double the incidence of high blood pressure/heart disease, compared to their Caucasian counterparts," ~ www.Heart.org

5  If the world gets hit by a giant asteroid like in the movies Deep Impact or Armageddon and humanity has to race to high ground, I'm making sure this family gets a spot on dry land.

6  When Zari is 17, I'll be 50! I have to make sure I can be at least a little physically intimidating to any knuckleheads that might ring our doorbell looking for her.

7  When Morgan is 17, I'll be 52! I have to make sure I can be at least a little physically intimidating to any knuckleheads that might ring our doorbell looking for her.

8  Global Warming. At the rate we're going now, super tornadoes, monster blizzards, tsunamis, volcano eruptions, and flash floods, etc. will be "normal" one day. It's going to take a lot of strength, speed, and agility to navigate through all of that. Thank you P90X.

9  The Zombie Apocalypse! (The 28 Weeks Later version - watch)

10  Skynet will wake up and the machines will take over. Don't laugh. One day your fancy phone that you love so much because it can do EVERYTHING is going to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Then what? I'm just saying. Better prepared.

Girls in a Bubble

I remember growing up on a street with lots of kids and we spent many hours together riding bikes, playing football in the street, chasing each other and just doing dumb stuff. Unfortunately I've probably forgotten more than I remember but I know it was all good.

I really miss those days. The friendships that were built on the fact that these were the first people you saw when you walked out of your house and the last ones you saw before you went in for the night. And yeah we all had our own friends from school or other places but there was something about the people that lived next door or a few houses down that made it all feel like a family.

(*warning* hypocritical material below)

Now with that being said, there were some kids on the block that we didn't see much of or that didn't always socialize with the rest of us, either by choice or parental restriction and of course the rest of us had our own juvenile feelings about them. As youngsters we couldn't understand and may have even been a little offended that someone didn't want or wasn't allowed to be a member of the "family".

And now if I could go back and talk to all of those parents that kept tight reins on their kids, I'd apologize for all of the smart ass remarks directed towards them and their children. Because now I understand. When I look out my window today at the kids playing in our neighborhood, I think to myself...

"Hell nah, there's no way my girls are going out there."

I'm not saying that the kids in our cul-de-sac are on the fast track to Sing Sing or San Quentin and hopefully the adults back in the day didn't think of us that way. But I am saying that sometimes it's better to err on the side of caution and that's what my gut is telling me now.

I hate to say it because it makes me a huge hypocrite but the girls won't be as free to go outside and play as I was. Sure they can go out and play but that's why we have a fence around our backyard. Absolutely they'll get plenty of physical activity thanks to karate lessons, soccer, dancing, gymnastics and parks (with Daddy!).

I am so thankful for the way I grew up and wouldn't change it for anything and I don't want to deprive the girls of that kind of experience but times have changed are changing.


I know we can't or shouldn't raise our kids in a bubble but what if it's a really big bubble? There is a middle ground between total isolation and running amuck and that's where the girls will hang out. I grew up in the late 80's early 90's and by the time they're even old enough to go outside alone I doubt there will be ANY resemblance to those days. That sucks for them because those were great times. The silver lining is that they'll never know what they're missing. But I definitely will.

Daddy's Little Narcotic

My 2 year old walked into the room, climbed up on my lap, laid her head on my chest and just started watching t.v. with me.

I asked her, "What's wrong baby?"
"I want to sit with you." She said.

#Wow

I can't really explain how that made me feel but I'd guess any parent is familiar with the feeling or at least I hope so. I know Love because I love my wife, my parents, siblings, etc. But this wasn't THAT. I want to say it was like eating an endless supply of your favorite food but even then you'd eventually get full and have to stop. There is no getting enough of THIS feeling.

While she watched television I watched her, smelled her hair, pinched her cheeks and kissed her head. She had to be wondering...

"What is up with Daddy?",

But she never complained. It was like she knew how tightly she was wrapping me around her little fingers just by sitting there and letting me soak it all in.

"I got him now" is what she was probably thinking. And between me and her (and now you), I'm cool with that. Even when we're in public and I deny it, we'll both know the truth.

Like I said, I know Love. I feel it everyday, I'm surrounded by it but THIS isn't THAT. It's something else. Every once and a while she'd look up at me and I'd look back and start thinking about my life before her, my life with her now and her life in the future without me, all at once. It's like I was Keanu Reeves getting plugged into the Matrix and all of these images and feelings start surging through my brain.

Then after about 20 minutes she hears her sister in the other room and climbs down and runs off...

"Okay, see you later crocodile!"

And she's gone.

But I'm okay, I don't make a fuss. I had my moment and now I can clear my mind, get back to killing brain cells in front of the boob tube in peace. I'll try to figure out what kind of narcotic she slipped into my water while I wasn't looking and search for an antidote before she's old enough to ask for the keys to the car.

And don't worry I'm not showing favorites. I have something for the other one too. But too much sentiment at once is bad for the "crazy daddy" image.

#keeppushing
#BeBetter

Chapter 8

One day I'll write a book about being a father and I'll call it: "Being Daddy: Yall Didn't Tell Me It Would Be Like This".

The book will focus on all the stuff people DON'T warn you about becoming a parent. Granted, becoming a mom or dad is probably different for everyone but there are a few things that we all have in common.

For example, Chapter 8: Yoga Is Your Friend.

As soon as my wife found out she was pregnant with our first daughter I should have signed up for Yoga classes. This would have given me ample time to prepare my body for the trauma it would experience for the next several years (and that's several years PER child).

Here's a sample of chapter 8 for your reading pleasure.


Yoga Will Come In Handy When...

1) You're a new dad and trying to feed your newborn for the first time. Nothing you've ever done has prepared you for the way your muscles will tense up from fear and anxiety as you try to hold this tiny living being with one hand and the warm bottle you just spent 20 minutes heating to the right temperature in the other. Not to mention the way your back will ache because you didn't get into the right position before you started feeding and now you're too scared to move.

2) You get caught slipping, laying flat on any surface; bed, floor, couch, etc. and leave yourself vulnerable to some energetic toddler who mistakes you for a trampoline. When it's time to play your kids don't want to hear about a slipped disc, cracked vertebrae, bruised sternum, or any of that foolishness. It's time to jump and you offered your body by NOT standing up when they walked in the room.

3) You're new to the car seat game. Bending over into the car trying to untangle straps and fasten this or that, can do "work" on your neck and back. Especially if you take too long. Finger dexterity comes in handy in this situation as well. You may need to combine Yoga with meditation in this instance if you have a child rushing you during the entire process. (See Chapter 3: Meditation, How To Escape Reality Even For Just A Moment).

4) Your favorite chair or favorite spot on the couch is now EVERYONE's favorite spot on the couch. What kind of dad says "beat it I was here first"? So you practice what you preach and you share your cozy little "spot"and you make space. But this requires flexible limbs and a limber spine to bend and twist in a way that allows everyone else to be comfortable and allows you to at least have somewhere to sit.

There are more examples but if I give it all away now you won't buy the book. NY Times Bestsellers list here we come!

Same (You know What) Different Day

For the last couple of months I've rejoiced in the fact that everyone in this house is finally potty trained. But now I'm starting to realize that I'm not as "out of the woods" as I thought. Even Z (4) still has to be monitored depending on what she's throwing down in the bathroom and M (2) most DEFINITELY needs a chaperone just to make sure things don't get away from her.

So no, I don't change diapers anymore but I do have to stop what I'm doing whenever I hear "I have to potty!!!" And it's not like a subtle:
"Oh father, the time has come for me to relieve myself. Will you please accompany me as to ensure the efficiency of my actions."
It's more like being in a firehouse and the alarm goes off and everybody starts to scatter, like:
"Daddy I gotta go and I gotta go now so if you don't get there before I do I can't be held responsible for what might go down....or up!"

Anyway, once everyone is safely in place then I go into "correction officer mode" like we're in Oz (HBO not Judy Garland).

"Be still. Are you finished? Don't get up. Make sure you're done. Okay get up. Use the wipes. Flush. Get your hand outta there! Don't touch anything! Wash your hands. Don't touch anything! Dry your hands." etc.

So the days of dry heaving and nausea are gone and I've traded my rubber gloves for a drill instructor whistle. But I should have known better than to celebrate like it was one more responsibility I could scratch off my list. Instead it evolved like most of them do into a different kind of responsibility.

But that's okay, I can deal with it for now because payback is gonna stink (literally) in about 45-50 years.

Her Words #1

Z: Daddy can I have burritos for a snack?

Me: Burritos? Do you know what a burrito is?
Z: Yes. And I want some for a snack.
Me: Some? Girl you can't eat SOME burritos.
Z: Uh huh, mommy gave me some yesterday.
Me: She did? How many?
Z: She gave me one, two, three, a lot.
Me: (Lol) I don't think so.
Z: She did, let's go ask her.
Me: Okay.

Burritos = Cheetos

The Jungle

I’m man enough to admit that at the end of most days when everyone is in bed and recharging for the next day, it’s usually me laying face down on the canvas, beat down by a couple of little girls. But even though they may be powerhouses in our home, in the real world they’re just two little sweet, polite, loving and happy children. And it scares the shi crap out of me every time I think about them being vulnerable to any of the craziness going on in the world these days.

Every day I turn on the news or pull up CNN.com there’s been another unthinkable crime against children or some heinous story that reminds me of how dangerous this world is, not just for my girls but all girls and it’s enough to turn a somewhat normal guy (that’s me) into a doomsday prepper. I can see myself now hiding in the woods teaching my family how to defend themselves with paper clips or how to communicate with birds and squirrels.

I know that part of this is normal parent anxiety but I also recognize how much the world has changed since I was a kid and I’m not even THAT old. It makes me wonder if this whole civilization thing is played out and maybe we’d be better off somewhere like the Swiss Family Robinson left to our own devices where the animals are walking around on four legs and kill for food or self-defense, not for what they can get from you or worse, for the pleasure.

Maybe I’m tripping but it’s hard not to when you pay attention to what’s going on out there and then look into your kids’ eyes and see nothing but innocence and love and realize how much that will have to change just for them to be able to navigate through the ugliness that’s waiting for them.

That sucks.  

~ Cp

Remember When...

In just a short amount of time a lot of things change in a house with two small children. Routines change routinely just to cater to the consistent evolution of behavior, habits and attitudes of toddlers. It’s to a parent’s credit to recognize when it’s time to make those changes before things get out of hand and not try to force feed old ways onto a child that has new ideas (that can get ugly). Every once and a while one of my girls does something that makes me think…”wow, I remember when she couldn’t/wouldn’t do/eat/say that”.  For example…

I Remember When:

I couldn’t leave them on the couch unattended because they might fall off. Now I can’t stop them from willingly jumping on, running into and flipping off of it.

Zari would never talk or barely make a peep. And now…NOW? Let’s just say that if what they say about inquisitive children is true then this kid might cure cancer or something. #pausebutton

We had to be ready to feed them with a warm bottle when they were ready to be fed no matter what time of day or night. And now we have to use everything from desserts to extra tv time and the threat of abandonment (in the kitchen) to get them to eat dinner. 

I couldn’t leave the girls in the same room alone……wait, still can’t do that.

The look of fear in their eyes when I threw them too high in the air. And now the only look of fear is mine when I give in to chants of “higher, higher” the whole time hoping I can make the catch. (Mom note: His first drop will be his last).

They would get a new toy or game and how much I loved to see the joy on their faces…. And now I’m smuggling toys out of the house every week because there’s no room in the toy box, they won’t stop fighting over it, or it’s too loud. #gottagogottago

When I had to do everything for them because they couldn’t do it for themselves……And now? They insist on doing it themselves while begging for help all in the same breath. So no matter what Dad does, it’s going to be wrong. #cantwin

Insurance Policy

For as long as I can remember, my girls absolutely refuse to let me leave the house without giving them a hug and a kiss. If I'm going to the corner store for 5 minutes or a daddy day for 5 hours, they want their hug and kiss. It's really sweet but sometimes it can actually be a bit monotonous especially if I'm in a hurry.  And if I do ever somehow sneak away without performing the ceremonious goodbye, when I return Mrs. Cp is sure to let me know of the carnage I caused by doing so.

But it's not the temper tantrums or tears that makes me fulfill my hug obligation, it's this one nagging and scary idea that when I walk out that door, there is a possibility that I don't walk back through it. That's the world we live in. It's scary out there. But they don't know that. Do they?

Whether they do or not whenever they scream "wait daddy, you have to give us a hug and a kiss before you leave!" what I REALLY hear is "wait daddy, you have to give us a hug and a kiss before you leave in case we never see you again!" And that's some scary sh   stuff to carry out the door with you every time you leave.

So I do it; on the surface just to avoid the immediate drama I'd cause if I didn't. But below the surface I do it because maybe children know something that adults often forget. Maybe everyone should be hugging and kissing their loved ones whenever they say goodbye. Let them know how you feel and that you'll miss them while their gone. It's like insurance just in case something happens.

Just in case.
xxooxxoo

Today's Rant: Breathing Room

I've realized that whenever I start a sentence with "I really love my girls" it usually means that I'm about to complain about something that I probably shouldn't be complaining about. It's like my brain throws in the disclaimer to soften the blow of what my mouth is about to say.

So with that being said...I really love my girls BUT...

For the life of me I cannot figure out why they act like they can't be in a room without mommy or daddy for more than 3 minutes. I mean we (mommy, daddy, grandparents, great grandparents, uncles, godfather, etc.) do a lot to make sure they have the toys, games, books and everything else they need to entertain themselves adequately and yet you would rather sit on my lap and talk about our dog eating bugs while I'm trying to watch Game of Thrones? It's hard enough to understand what these characters are saying as it is. If you're playing in the living room and mommy accidentally pokes her head in and you catch her...HER bad. Because now you're following her wherever she goes until she can shake you. It's crazy.

But many people have told us to enjoy it while it lasts because the day will come when we'll be the ones following you around trying to sneak in a little quality time while you avoid us like Jehovah's Witnesses. But when I'm in the bathroom handling private business and you're banging on the door to ask me why it gets dark at night time, that day feels light years away.

But I really love my girls ;-)

Agree 2 Disagree

The other day The Wife told me about how her grandmother would get upset whenever The Wife would challenge anything her grandmother would say. Her grandmother's response; "Stop contradicting me!"

I'm almost certain that as a child I've heard something similar a few times, but probably not in such blog friendly terms. I guess as an intelligent, inquisitive, strong willed child, I figured why not give my opinion on the current state of affairs? And apparently The Wife was the same kind of kid.

Anybody see where I'm going with this?

If one intelligent, inquisitive, strong-willed child grows up and goes to college and meets another intelligent, inquisitive, strong-willed child and they get married and make babies, things could get volatile in that household. Needless to say, ever since The Wife told me the story, I've found myself in plenty situations when I've wanted to wring someone's neck! yell "Stop contradicting me!" And here are just a few of those situations....TODAY.

Zari: Can we go outside daddy?
Me: It's raining.
Zari: No it's not.


Me: Morgan do you have to potty?
Morgan: No.
Me: You sure? You drank 2 whole cups of apple juice.
Morgan: No I didn't.


Zari: Daddy you should give us chocolate milk
Me: You didn't finish your lunch so no I shouldn't
Zari: Yes you should
Me: No I shouldn't
Zari: (singing)Yes you should
(Repeat)


Me: Zari you can't steer the bike if you don't keep your hands on the handlebars
Zari: Yes I can
Me: Okaaaay
(CRASH)
Me: I told you
Zari: No you didn't.

"STOP CONTRADICTING ME!"  #please

A Bad Word

If I had to make a list of all the things the girls do or say that make me want to run away from home (for at least a couple of hours) that list would be a mile long (but don't get me wrong, I love my babies).

But lately there's one simple word that makes me cringe every time I hear it. One small three letter word that sets me off the way a matador evokes the fury of a charging bull. A mono-syllabic word that whenever it's uttered even from the mouths of babes is like an unexpected gut punch from 1987 Mike Tyson (but don't get me wrong, I love my babies).

Which word?

But! - With one "T", not two.

Not the butt you sit on, not the butt you find in an ashtray or the victim of a joke. None of the above. I'm talking about the conjunction that means "contrary". As in "contrary to what you said Dad" or "contrary to what you want Dad" or "contrary to how you feel Dad", etc. Every time I hear it I brace myself for some excuse, complaint, objection or just plain old hard-headedness (copyright 2013). If I never have to hear any of these sentences ESPECIALLY preceded by that word ever again, I'd drop to my knees and thank God and anybody else who made it possible.

Exhibit A:

...but I don't want that for dinner
...but I don't want you to turn the t.v. off
...but I don't want to take a nap

...but it's not hers it's mine
...but it's not time to clean up
...but it's not fair

...but you said I could
...but you said we should
...but you said you would

...but I like juice (@breakfast)
...but I like water (@lunch)
...but I like milk (@dinner)

...but why?
...but how?
...but when?

I could go on and on and on...

BUT why bother?  ;-)

The Sibling Paradox

One of the most confusing YET amusing dynamics between the girls is the way they fight with such bloodlust sometimes and the only way to douse the raging fire of their sibling rivalry is to threaten to SEPARATE them.

You're thinking "that's crazy". And that's exactly what I think every time it happens. They fight, I threaten to separate them and they both plead for it not to happen and promise to play nice. Which they do for about 3 and a half minutes and go right back at it like the mini-black Hatfields & McCoys.

It wreaks of dysfunction and they both play the role of the battered wife AND the abusive husband and lash out at me like the interfering neighbor who should just mind his business. 

Next thing you know one of them will be running to me crying about being hit and turn right around to defend the hitter. "She didn't mean it, I shouldn't have taken her toy. She loves me." And as usual if I'm forced to dish out any punishment they'll huddle together afterwards and console one another and look at me with that "mean old daddy" look.

And actually, I'm not mean at all. I'm just confused.

#craziness

The Dirty Diaper Analogy

It's been almost a week since I've changed a dirty diaper and I'm LOVING IT! It's like being 16 and on Summer vacation. Every morning I wake up is filled with hope and excitement of what today will bring. But deep down there's that nagging fear that at any moment your mom is going to get tired of seeing you lay around on the couch and spending your days carefree and happy so she gives you some manual labor chore like cleaning out the garage or building a guest house just to watch you sweat. If she's working every day the least you can do as a freeloading dependent is hide your summertime joy a little better. 

Every day I wake up still beaming from yesterday's potty accomplishments and praying that they can be duplicated. But deep down that nagging feeling is there that Morgan will get tired of seeing me celebrate every diaper that I DON'T have to change and she'll orchestrate an accident or she'll just not quite make it to the potty this time. And she'll do it to remind me of the power she has over me. The power to make me sweat....and gag. After all, if she has to put in all the work of using the potty every time she has an urge then the least I can do is hide my diaper-free joy a little better.

And believe me I'll walk around this house looking depressed if it'll keep her shi mess in the toilet where it belongs. WHATEVER it takes!

First Degree Biting

I'm just trying to get a little bit of writing done and I hear a ruckus coming from the living room. So I use my ninja-like-stealth-daddy ability to sneak up on them to assess the situation. And there's Morgan (2 yrs old) chasing Zari (4 yrs old) around the living room growling and yelling "I'm gonna bite youuuuu. Grrrrrrrrr! I'm gonna bite youuuuu. Aarrggghhhh!"And Zari running in circles for her life like she's somehow convinced that her little sister is really some kind of vicious sister-eating monster.

I know that she knows that biting is a spanking-worthy offense in this house so all I can do is remain undetected and wait to see how far this goes. Some might call that entrapment but I call it "that's what you get!" And yet, every time she growls "I'm gonna bite youuuuuuu!" I feel like I should be reading her the Miranda rights or something. If this case goes to mommy/daddy court she won't stand a chance. Poor kid.

#premeditatedbiting

Babble

 This just happened. 


Morgan: Daddy can I have a brownie?

Me: Not right now baby, maybe after dinner.

Morgan: After dinner I can have a brownie?

Me: Yeah we'll see.

Morgan: And then after dinner I can have a brownie and then drink some water and play with kicker (sister) and then take a bath and then I go to the potty and brush my teeth and then go sleep and listen to music and in the dark because mommy turn the t.v. off and then I go to sleep and wake up in the morning, then brush my teeth again then eat oatmeal chocolate milk and play with kicker and the sandbox and play yogurt (Yoga on the Wii fit), then eat lunch and peanut butter jeddy (jelly) then take a nap and watch gabba gabba and wake up and eat yogurt (yogurt) for a snack and watch cheetah girls when mommy makes dinner and I eat all my dinner like a big girl..... (here it comes)...................... and then have ANOTHER brownie?

#1 - those brownies must be really good.
#2 - it might be time to diversify the daily schedule.

Those That Can

I think I'm starting to develop some kind of complex about teaching my girls. After struggling to help them grasp simple concepts like "over" and "under" or the days of the week I'm often left with the painful realization that either I'm not as smart as I've always thought or they aren't as smart as I've hoped.

Needless to say I get my answer every time I hear my wife sitting down with them for a few minutes as they recite Pythagorean theorems or discuss Economic Imperialism. Now, I think I know I'm smart, I know it! But I guess there's something lacking in my lesson delivery because teaching Zari the days of the week has been like pulling teeth, whereas with their mom there's always smiling and laughter and......learning.

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit but not about the difference in what my wife and I are able to achieve in the "teaching" department. But I'm okay with that. I accept my limitations and we all have the same goal...not to have dumb underachieving kids. So I step back and know my role and wait for my expertise to be needed (whatever that may be). But in the meantime I'll keep pulling teeth while the girls humor me and patiently wait for their favorite teacher to take over.

Poor Daddy.