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.

Stinky Delicious

On the way downstairs for breakfast Zari caught a whiff of something unpleasant. And felt it was her duty to get to the bottom of it.

Z: Pewwww weee. What is that smell daddy?
Me: I don't smell anything. What does it smell like?
Z: I don't know. I have to find it.

(checks the bathroom, then the living room)

Z: It smells like one of Morgy's dirty diapers. Yuck.
Me: (trying to contain my amusement) Is it that bad? I still don't smell it.
Z: Uh huh, it's yucky. Can you open a window?
Me: (Lol) It's too cold to open a window.
Z: Please daddy, it's terrible.

(we walk into the kitchen and...)

Z: Oh there it is! It's my strawberry cupcake from yesterday!
Me: Strawberry cupcake?! You thought that smelled like a dirty diaper.
Z: Uh huh. Can I eat it?
Me: For breakfast? Um, no.
Z: Please daddy!
Me: You just said it smelled terrible
Z: But it tastes delicious!

#nosense

Shweepy

 
My 2 yr old (Morgan) came up to me a little bit before nap time and said.... "Daddy I shweepy. Nap time?" It was so cute I couldn't help but  pick her up and kiss on her until she was completely repulsed and begged for me to put her down. I could have sworn I heard her say "forget I said anything" as she walked away.

But more than anything, her little confession made me think back to how far we've come when it comes to sleep. Two years ago when we brought her home I was on late night duty which meant if she was awake in the middle of the night, then I was awake in the middle of the night.......no matter what.

And staying true to her dad appointed nickname; "Hard Time", it was ALWAYS difficult to get her asleep but when she did drift off it was usually on her stomach which I learned was her favorite position to sleep in (mine too). BUT as a relatively new parent all I could think about were the numerous stories/lessons/warnings about letting your infant sleep on their stomach. So there I was either wide awake at 3 am trying to soothe a crying infant or wide awake at 3 am watching over a sleeping infant with her face buried in the couch cushion.

Either way I was wide awake.

So thank you Morgan for maturing so much in two years that you can come up to me in the middle of the day and admit when it's time to lay you down for a nap. The sentiment means so much to me and my journey towards compensating for the many lost hours walking in circles and dancing to Michael Jackson with you in my arms, in pitch black darkness.

I'll take what I can get.

Hereditary

1988

Mom: You need to clean this room up today, it's a mess.
Me: Who's coming over?
Mom: What?
Me: Are we having company or something?
Mom: (Aggravated) No. You clean your room so it's clean not just because we're having company.
Me: Oh. Okay.

2013

Me: Come on girls, take a break from Sesame Street so we can get dressed.
Zari: Yaaaay! So we can go to the park!
Me: Uh, no, it's raining baby.
Zari: So why do we have to get dressed?
Me: (Aggravated) You get dressed so you're not in your pajamas all day, not just to go to the park.
Zari: Oh. Okay.


Nowwwwww I get it. ;-)

Redundancy

Today's List of:

 "Things I've said a Million Times Today"

1. Stop jumping on the couch!
2. Leave your sister alone! (makes every list every day)
3. No, you don't get dessert after a snack.
4. Get your fingers off of the t.v. screen! Please!
5. Where are your socks?!


This list also changes EVERY DAY.

Note To Self

Note: Well, you did it again. You stayed up until 3 am watching movies, fighting sleep and surfing the net. But as usual you forgot one thing. The girls are going to be awake at 7:30 am right on schedule. They don't care about your "me time" or that the only time you get to unload the stress of the day is late at night after everyone else is asleep. It makes no difference to them that instead of doing the sensible thing and going to bed with everyone else that you CHOOSE to spin your tires on meaningless activities out of some misguided sense of "man duty". All they care about is that the oatmeal is hot and the chocolate milk is wet. So please stop doing this to yourself. You're not 22 years old anymore. Not only is it okay to go to bed before midnight, it's also healthier. Get a grip man! I'm tired of slogging through the day like a "walker" barely able to open my eyes, moaning and grunting more than making coherent sentences. Just let it go son, let it go. 

Yours Truly, 
You 

Like Ashley Judd in "Missing"

One part of parenting that I know is normal that I don't think I'll ever get used to is the constant "worry" or paranoia I feel whenever I think about my girls being out in the real world without me.

*NOTE: My girls are 4 and 2 so this won't even be a realistic issue for the near future*

The mere thought of dropping my oldest off for her first day of school turns my stomach in knots and I flashback to every news story I've ever heard about kids being bullied or school bus accident or much worse. But if it's not any of the many random school disaster scenarios that race through my mind, then it's visions of one of my daughters being an adult and having to fend off slimy, greasy, lying, no-good, evil, men.

What's going to happen if Morgan is walking back to her dorm from the library (in the year 2029) and she's approached by an undesirable or someone with less than noble intentions and I'm thousands of miles away (or 20 if I get my way)? How can I be sure she'll be able to handle herself?

That's why after long deliberation and watching lots of movies with strong heroines, like Angelina Jolie in "Salt" or Ashley Judd in "Missing", I've decided that both of my girls will grow up to be CIA Operatives trained in hand to hand combat as well as extensive weapon training and they'll know Parkour and be Olympian level gymnasts with record breaking speed and strength.

Is that too much to ask?

That's what happens when an overactive imagination collides with an overprotective instinct. I know I can't ALWAYS be there for my babies so the least I can do is make sure they're prepared for when I'm not.

Anyone know the qualifications for CIA school?

Life with a 2 yr Old - #1

Today while Morgan enthusiastically gobbled down her bowl of strawberry yogurt she paused to smile and said: "eye cweam good daddy!"

And before I could think about it my mouth opened to respond. And I said: "that's not ice cream baby, that's yogurt."

Morgan: "yogurr?"

Me: "yup"

And just like that she tore off her bib, frowned at me as if I had just told her she was eating a bowl of brussel sprouts and stormed out of the kitchen calling for her mommy to no doubt tell of my deception.

 

Daddiology Lesson of the Day: Next time just go with the flow

Horror Story

I never thought I'd be THAT Dad who runs and hides from his kids in the bathroom just to get a minute of peace and tranquility. But that's exactly what I did this morning. It was all I could think to do to escape what felt like a zombie invasion.

First I could hear their little feet shuffling through the hall sniffing out their prey eventually finding it in mommy and daddy's bedroom. Then I felt their little hands tugging and clawing at me while I lay in my bed and just like in the movies I refused to open my eyes as if they'd go away deterred by my false obliviousness. The sounds of their voices whining for chocolate milk, the same way old school zombies use to moan for brains.

So I did what any responsible, reliable father would do when he's ripped from his slumber.

I ran.

Straight into the bathroom and locked the door. I never even looked back as I heard the pitter pat of small feet trying to keep up with me. One hand knocked on the door, then two, then three turned to four as my 2 and 4 year old daughters relentlessly punished my bathroom door for my cowardice. The doorknob jiggled and shook before they realized the lock would in fact keep them out.

As the banging stopped and the little feet shuffled away I stared at myself in the mirror and recognized the horror in my own eyes. I had gotten away but for how long? Then I heard a familiar voice crying out for help.

They went after mommy. Yes!