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