But You ARE Asleep, Honey

Last night, around 2:30, I awoke to Arianna's face pressed firmly against mine.  It wasn't comfortable for me, so it couldn't have been comfortable for her; though she remained sound asleep. I must say, however, that it was a marked improvement over the previous nights parade of Genevieve and Rosaline, tromping into our room around 3am, carrying pillows and blankets and stuffed animals, loudly proclaiming that they were there to watch cartoons on our iphones.  I scooped up the slumbering tot, gently scaled the baby gate that keeps Charming's destructive puppyness at bay during the midnight hours, walked down the hall and gently lay her back in her own bed.  As I brought the sheets up around her chin, she shot up to a seated position and quietly began to whimper.  "I don't want to go to sleep, Daddy. ... I want to snuggle with you and Mama (sob)(sob)."  I tried to shush her as not to wake the others, but she grew more and more agitated.  Finally, I got down on my knees, pressed my lips against her ear and whispered "but Honey, you are asleep."  She instantly fell silent and dropped back to the bed like a ton of bricks.  This magic may never work again in the history of parenting; but for one night, I am "The Kid Whisper".

Pic of the Week

"Counter Terrorism"

 

I Know Daddy's Wrong, But Please Don't Argue With Me

Someone sent me this e-mail chain with a bunch of absurd detention notices yesterday.  One of them was from a teacher who was punishing a child who argued with him in front of the class regarding a fact which the teacher - admittedly in the form - had wrong.  I laughed, what a fool. .... yeah.  About five hours later I would face a similar situation.  I picked up the girls from my in-laws in OC (Gina teaching/I was in the area) and after a painfully drawn out dinner in which I had to convince them of every bite, I started to pack things up to head home.  I had a pile of shoes and socks and Arianna was first.  She suddenly informed me that she wanted to use the potty first; great idea - off you go.  I called over the next victim: Genevieve.  As Genevieve is deliberately ignoring me Arianna starts screaming behind me.  She's standing next to the toilet, pants around her ankles and she can't hold it a hummingbird's wing beat longer and pees into the pants around her ankles. ... WTF??!!!!  I get her on the toilet of the final few drops and start cleaning things up as I my mother-in-law heads up stairs to search for some sort of replacement clothing to get us home.  Genevieve is still ignoring me.  I grab a nearby Rosaline and, staring at three pairs of similar looking socks, pick the ones that match the least and put them on Rozzie.  This was my mistake.  When I finally drag Genevieve over to put on her shoes she begins wailing at the horror of having the wrong socks.  She was wearing the ones I put on Rosaline (orange socks, pink shoes and black pants. .. again, WTF?!).  I ask her to please just put on the socks that are there, they're green and pink, her two favorite colors. ... that was kind of like throwing a warhead into an already bubbling volcano.  She unleashes the furry of repressed sock aficionados worldwide and begins screaming at me about sock culture and.... well, god knows what it really was, I was just seeing red once she started mouthing off at me over socks.  So now I'm trying to keep Rosaline from heading home with out us, mopping up the aftermath of Arianna's accident and yelling at Genevieve to just put on the god damn fucking socks.  Now, while I refrained from actually saying the g.d.f's, the were certainly implied by inflection.  It was principle at this point.  I realized the socks were wrong.  I could have made things easy by sitting Rosaline down and switching her socks out; but I'm not about to let a four year old push me around with that kind of attitude.  Finally she got the mother loving socks on and I put her on the toilet to make sure we didn't have a double puddle.  Now Arianna is screaming because my mother in law found some pants, but she doesn't have underwear, so she's now got a wedgie - Arianna, not my mother-in-law.  Let me just say in an aside that there is nothing funnier then a little girl sobbing and saying the word "wedgie".  Sadistic, I know, but hilarious.  I give her the old "you're the one who peed in your pants so you're going to have to deal with this until we get home" speech for the second time in six weeks.  I then head up to check on Genevieve who spitefully banishes me from her presence telling me she doesn't need me around anymore. .... Fortunately we got home to find that Charming had eaten a Barbie. ... all in all a pretty good day.

Work-a-holics

It runs in my family, the need to work more then you play.  It has caused me to fight hard the option of playing hookie to attend field trips versus the option of trekking into the office for a fun filled day.  And it seems that my kids are prone to the condition.  Last night, as dinner was being dished on to plates, I told Genevieve to come sit at the table (she had been playing with her toy computer - a heart shaped Disney princess contraption).  "Ugh" she sighed, prying herself up and carrying her computer over to the dinner table.  "I just have so much work I need to get done, Daddy!"  It was like a mini me. ... and it was horrifying.

Pic of the Week

"Minions"

 

 

Uncool To Drool

I didn't get much time with the girls last night, as it was Wednesday (Gina teaches in Orange County all day) and they don't get home until almost 10.  But the brief time I had was. ... magical?  The dogs and I unloaded everyone from the car as they pulled in the garage and herded their prejammied little bodies upstairs to brush teeth.  Everyone was done and off to bed except for Genevieve, who was rehearsing what appeared to be a musical while sitting (sort of, maybe a quarter of one cheek actually touching) on the toilet.  I told her to wrap up the second act and start brushing her teeth.  As soon as the bristles touched her lips she started crying hysterically about her mouth hurting.  Given the matinee performance I just saw I wasn't all that impressed.  But, being the diligent father (the one who's made similar mistakes in the past) I checked anyway.  Sure enough she had a couple little soars on the inside of her mouth, fever blisters or something.  I told her to rinse out and I'd put some Orajel on them to make them not hurt any more.  The only one of our kids who even remotely accepted Orajel was Rosaline; the other two won't let it near their mouths.  So to ease her apprehension I applied some to my lip first - you know, to show her I wouldn't spontaneously combust, or anything like that.  Finally she let me proceed and I swapped some over the inside of either side of her mouth.  We got in to bed and I did my kisses - by now my bottom lip totally numb as I'd clearly applied too much.  I figured that was a good sign as she'd not feel any discomfort.  I walked downstairs and hadn't sat in my chair for more then two minutes when I hear a pitter-patter across the ceiling above me, followed by Genevieve balling at the top of the stairs.  She was completely inaudible.  As it turns out she "couldn't feel her mouth," "she couldn't talk" and she'd "drooled yuckies all over my pillow". ... yeah. ... that would be my bad.