Wednesday, October 30, 2013

I Know My Kids Like The Back Of My - What The Hell Is That?!

We like to think that we're experts when it comes to our children.  We know what they love, what they hate.  We know how to motivate them and how to get under their skin.  We don't know shit.  We THINK we know.  Genevieve's favorite animal fluctuates from what's in front of her in that moment: Bear, Giraffe, her sister.  Arianna has 100 "favorite" movies.  They all seem to love what ever ice cream we have in the freezer at that moment the most.  And yesterday was a perfect example of how wrong my assumed knowledge of my kids can be.  The girls had a field trip to Sea World (I know, I know - Blackfish. ... I'm sorry) so I took off work to tag along.  Everything went swimmingly (that's right, I punned it just now) until the end of the adventure when the girls wanted to spend some time on the massive play structure.  Like massive massive. ... really.  Arianna was running across a bridge about three stories up when she yelled down at me that she had to tisza (pee).  I told her to hurry down the stairs so we could go.  She said she wanted to slide one more time.  I told her "no"; she didn't listen and ran for the slide instead.  Then. ... she stopped.  Here's where I failed in my knowledge:
1) I thought my kids could hold it for one more exhibit before we pottied on the way out
2) I thought my kid could hold it long enough to make it down the stairs
3) I thought my kid was 100% potty trained. ...  so no back up clothes are needed anymore.

We made our get away from the park with Arianna sporting a hoodie sweatshirt for a diaper.  Thank god we got to park in the back as part of field trip.

Second incident, same day:  Went to tuck the girls in around 11:30 before hitting the rack myself.  Went to Genevieve's bed first, reached down to the foot of the bed to grab the sheets and in the pitch black I felt a head of hair.  Not uncommon, Genevieve will move around alot in her sleep.  I prepare to turn her right side up when I notice a full head of hair already resting on the pillow.  How cute!  Arianna has crawled in to bed to snuggle with her sister. ... but which one is which?!  Aha!  I know my kids.  Arianna has a slightly up turned, button nose, so in the dark I gently run my finger across the face.  Arianna!  I scoop her up, standing tall and prideful in my knowledge of my children, even in dark.  I lay her in to bed just as Gina comes in the room to do her midnight kisses.  I look at my wife, exuding pride (the 7 deadly sin pride, not the good pride) just as "Arianna" sits up and whispers in my ear with Genevieve's voice "Daddy, what are you doing?"  Shit!  I got the wrong kid.  "Go back to sleep honey, everything's fine". ... just be glad we didn't have identical twins or one of you would have had to get a tattoo.

Monday, October 28, 2013

The Padawan Becomes the Master

Here's the thing about little kids: Once they figure something out, they think they're the foremost expert on the subject moving forward.  Rosaline has juuuust begun to potty train; as in, she's gone to freshman orientation and one frat party but  has not had a single lecture hall moment yet.  But apparently she already knows everything and is now dean in the potty department.  Yesterday morning, as we're preparing to leave for a busy day, I tell Gina I need a few moments to use the restroom before we leave.  Unfortunately, Rosaline overheard this.  She starts yelling at me and pulling me by the hand towards the downstairs restroom.  She then sets up the potty training seat on the toilet and tells me I need to sit on it.  When I try and remove it she warns me that I'll fall in.  I use a quick slight of hand and slide it to the side as I sit down. ... she notices but let's me off with a cross glance.  She then stands in front of me and "walks" me through the proper form of doing a "khakha".  She bows her legs out, as though riding a horse, clenches her fist and grunts loudly.  She then motions for me to try.  I stare at her blankly in disbelief at which she frustratingly repeats the process only more exaggerated this time.  I comply.  She then applauds and tells me I'll get an M&M all the while tearing off a large amount of toilet paper, then fighting past me to attempt to wipe my backside.  I realise I'm a 230lb man and she's not even two yet; but she's pretty forceful.  At this point I'm screaming for Gina to please come remove the potty police so I can do what I need to do and get on with my day.  As she's dragged from the room and the door is slowly closing behind her, I swear to god she locks eyes on me like a warning; if I don't do this correctly she's going to come after me with all the power of grayskull. ... no pressure.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Pic if the Week

"To Cool For School... And to Wear Sunglasses Right Side Up"

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Why I Cried at the Disneland Parade

The big girls turned 4 on Sunday.  Four!  As in, out of the "toddler" classification and now on to big girls status.  And this was only made more evident in our birthday exploits.  With our good friends in tow we spent two magical days at Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure.  But let's be real, it's not as if we'd never been to Disneyland before; but we'd never been been to Disneyland post four, and that made a huge difference.  Suddenly the girls are tall enough and brave enough (have to have the combo) to go on the "big kid" rides.  They dared the Space and Splash Mountains.  They harnessed the rapids. They strode confidently into the Haunted Mansion and as we light sped our way to Endor, Genevieve leaned over towards me and told me that this was amazing.  No child. ... you're amazing.  To continue to observe this transformation of people, witnessing the miracle of each pedal blossom, that is the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.  And for some reason, as the princess parade passed us down Main Street, and "Aladdin" leaned off of his flying carpet to wish the girls happy birthday (clearly identified by their official "birthday" buttons), my eyes welled.  You'd think by the fourth of these I'd have lost some of the sentimentality; but no.  It's the most magical thing in the Magic Kingdom.  Fortunately there's some child like wonder in them.  Arianna professed that when she grows up she wants to be a professional unicorn rider.  I was hoping for doctor, but I imagine if she can go pro at this it should prove lucrative.

In the mean time, enjoy Genevieve's face from Splash Mountain.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

3rd Down and 6 to Go

Sleep.  If you think about it the bed was a pretty stupid invention.  Let's put ourselves high above the ground, without retention methods, while we're comatose and unable to control our movements.  The only benefit is to store stuff you never want to find again because you forgot you stuck it under your bed.  With the girls, they did alright training for this nightly balancing act.  Of course, it helps that we purchased mini railings that attached to their big girl beds and kind of encouraged them not to fall out (I won't say kept them from falling out because that wasn't always effective).  This time around, with Rosaline, we tried to use the same partitions but in all the moves. ... well, we lost the straps the keep the partition secured to the bed. ... so it's even more useless.  We tested her out during naps, going with out the wall and she did quite well, so we moved to the night time and diligently watched the monitor to make sure there were no issues.  First few runs, no problem.  Except that the static on the monitor (haven't used in a while) kept us both up and exhausted the following day.  Well, last night it all went to shit.  The first thump we heard from downstairs around 9.  We could see her on the monitor as well, but the roll out motion was unobserved.  I rushed upstairs and scooped her up; she's crying but still pretty much asleep.  I retuck her back in and go back down stairs.  About 9:30 we see it happening.  Of course the thump beat us upstairs and this time Gina scooped her up, piling pillows on her side to act as a retaining wall of sorts.  Around 10:15, as we're getting in to bed ourselves and just as I'm setting up the monitor (we had it downstairs with us earlier in the evening) the familiar thump once more.  This time she had thrown herself back into bed before Gina could even get in the room.  So. ... three downs and only 6 more hours to go.  Needless to say it was a light sleep by us, waiting for that familiar thump in the dark once more.

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Lowness Of Humanity (it's a funny post, don't worry)

So with all the developments lately and the severe lack of blogging on my part, allow me bring you up to speed on a few things before we get into this post.
1) Big Girls in Preschool
2) Arianna started speech therapy (going well, not serious)
3) Rosaline in big girl bed. ... sometimes
4) Rosaline potty training. ... sometimes
5) New dog is really big
6) Grandpa bought us a trampoline
7) Momma finally done with festival season so Daddy is regaining sanity

Now to today's post:
Last night as we're getting ready for bed, Arianna runs into the bathroom where I'm brushing Rosaline's teeth, stark naked and holding poop stained underwear.

"Daddy!" she yells, somebody got my khaikis (underwear) all yucky!"
"What do you mean 'somebody,'" I ask sceptically.
She doesn't miss a beat, "Someone else must have been wearing them and they got khaka (poop) in them."
"Someone else, other then you, was wearing the underwear you just took off your body?"
She looks at me with the most earnest of eyes, "That must have been what happened," she replies, shrugging her shoulders and walking away as though she's proved her point and we both must simply move on at this point.

So, to the rest of humanity I say this:  How low must one be to steal a three year old's underwear, poop in them, and then return to replace them on her body; essentially framing this otherwise perfectly potty trained toddler.  I thought stealing candy from a baby was the worst. .... but this is awful.  You should be ashamed of yourself mystery pooper. ... absolutely ashamed.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Assistant to the Regional Manager

As parents it's important to be the boss, each with equal power.  Like the CFO and the CEO, or a Board of Directors.  A very small Board.  But as you climb down the ladder in any organization you'll find there are still positions of limited power all the way to the bottom.  That's right, even the guys who scrap bird shit off the Empire State Building have a supervisor.  SSBS.  Supervising Scraper of Bird Shit.  In our family, it seems, that there's this jockeying for a position we didn't realize was even open: VP of Children Operations.  It seems that the Board is too consumed with the bigger picture of running a household and there's a general consensus among the employees that micro managing will be a better tactic at the child care level.  Of course, there seems to be three self appointed candidates for the position.  Every time I turn around Genevieve is scolding someone or reciting a company bylaw.  Last night she yelled at Gina (a very exhausted Gina, I might add) for bringing a glass of wine upstairs.  "Momma!  There are no drinks allowed upstairs.  You're going to spill on my brand new carpet."  I thought Gina was going to pop, but she looked completely caught off guard.  Arianna, meanwhile, feels that we're not safe enough and that every one climbing onto a chair needs a boost up, and everyone who slightly stumbles in their walk must be tackled to the ground and restrained for their own protection.  Then there's Rosaline.  She's' the whistle blower.  Everything is everyone else's fault. Not the most ethical way to climb the ladder, but effective none the less.