Clipped Wings

There's one in every family.  The kid who carries the "crazy" label with them everywhere they go.  This isn't the "we really need to up the dosage" crazy, but the unpredictable, uncontrollable, incomprehensible kind of crazy that gets this kid into trouble at every turn.  That's Rosaline.  I wasn't back up and blogging a few months ago when it happened, but she fell coming down the stairs and knocked her two front teeth back up into her gums.

Those teeth have only just now come back down out of the gums (from May) and we're already back in the x-ray room. 

Yesterday afternoon, she was climbing down the ladder of a friends trampoline and not paying attention - as usual - and she slipped and fell.  I was still driving home from work when I got the call.  She's a tough girl and had already been crying for ten minutes straight.  That coupled with the swelling on her clavicle told us right away we probably had a break.

Four and a half hours in the ER later and, yup, she broke her collar bone.  I know this is the most common form of bone break, but she's not even three yet.  What kind of warranty do we have on this kid?  I know most home appliances come with a 3 year policy. ... did we buy the option on her because I'm not sure she's going to last until December.

All in all she did great, though.  By the time we made inside the ER she had stopped crying and was her normal conversationalist self (albeit moving a bit like a zombie because her shoulder hurt so much).  She had most of the waiting room in stitches the entire time. ... even the guy in the corner who was waiting to get stitches.  And that's the positive I took away from this.  While it won't be our last visit to an emergency room with this kid, at least I can reflect on the brilliant personality that shines through her in her darkest hour.  She stood still and smiled ("cheeeeeese") for the x-ray pictures.  She diagnosed everyone in the waiting room (owie, owie, she's feeling yucky, that ones cold and needs a blanket, ect).  She told the doctor, with out any prompting or encouragement from us, exactly what had happened ("I no pay detention on ladder") and was an all around bright spot in an otherwise dismal Thursday night hospital trip.

So here's to her not breaking anything ever again. ... least of all her spirit.

 

 



Bored with Creativity

I'm a creative guy, I can't help it and I can't turn it off.  When my wife goes out of town for the weekends it means I'm in charge, and that means we play Michael Buble over the surround sound starting at 8am, we will go swimming at least once a day and chances are strong we'll walk the aisles of Home Depot aimlessly because I feel the need to be there "just in case".  It also means that Mama is not there to cook her amazing an nutritious food. ... so Dad has to mask his culinary inferiority by aiming for high marks on presentation.

This tactic has resulted in "K Burgers"

 

"Hotopus"

 

"Batman Bagels"

and naturally "Minnie Mouse Pancakes, with Strawberry Bows"

But it seems it's wearing a little thin.  Yesterday, when discussing the return of Mama and the coming week, Genevieve turns to me in all seriousness and says "Daddy, do you think tomorrow we could just be normal and have cereal for breakfast." 

Oh no. .. my daughter just said the "N" word. ... normal. .... what am I going to do?!  The only thing of got in my corner is my creativity.  I was hoping it be at least 13 before the shtick wore thin.  But alas, my children are bored with me weeks before their 5th birthday.  It was fun while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end. 

Grilled cheese with Kraft single slices and the crust cut off the wonder bread. ... hold the fun. 
Order up! 

A Question Only Parents Will Contemplate

How does a two year old wind up bare ass in her older sisters bed, clutching a castle shaped alarm clock some time between the hours of 1AM and 6AM?  And where the hell is her older sister?!!

Wrong Number

I realize that I haven't blogged in well over a year, and I've kicked myself regularly for this failure through the entirety, but it just hit me like a ton of bricks: I wasn't blogging for other peoples entertainment, I was blogging for myself.  I felt this pressure of click counts and reader comments and, the truth is, the need for me to do this should have been more selfish.  In a recent conversation with a friend I was retelling a story - one that took place during this non blogging period - and the words came out of my mouth "I really should write these things down because I'm forgetting some of the great stuff". ... well, idiot, that's what you were doing for the first several years until you stopped.  But it's true, I was pushing out memories to make space for new ones and those replaced memories (good ones in their own right) are being lost.  So I'm not going to blog daily.  I'm not going to blog monthly.  I'm not going to guarantee any sort of out put.  I'm just going to blog the good ones, when they happen, so I can capture that memory forever and share it with these girls when they're older.

We've been struggling with potty training Rosaline (I know, see how much time has passed?!) and while she manages to do quite well with number one, it's number two that's been an issue.  She has this need to control things - I wonder who she gets that from - and she's discovered that holding her shit in, literally, is one of the few things she has power to control.  So now we do this weekly thing where she'll go in the potty, we celebrate the crap out of it, then we spend the next 6 days trying to get her to go again until she has an accident. ... it sucks.  So the other weekend Gina left to get her toes done and I was left in charge of orchestrating the much needed bowel movement going on 5 days.  An hour or so in we have great success and, in the name of sharing special moments with my wife, I took a quick "hooray" video and sent it to her.  Two hours later (and seriously. .. how long does it take to apply paint to 10 small toe nails?!) Gina comes home and I ask her if she saw the video.  "What video?"  "What do you mean, 'what video?'"  I pull out my phone and to my dismay I find I've sent no such video to my wife.  I have, however, sent it to my neighbor - the childless NASA rocket scientist.  We were to play golf the next day, so before we even tee'd off on the first I say "Dude, why didn't you say anything about that video I sent you?  You could have at least said 'wrong number' or clue me in to that mistake!"  Again, he has never had kids and has no plans to, but his answer was awesome.  "Well," he says methodically, "you just seemed so proud of it, I didn't want to burst your bubble.  I figured if it became a habit then we'd need to address it."

So future Rosaline, there you go.  As you read this 15, 20, 25 years from now.  Take solace that all this time, Charles has seen a video of your poo.  Try looking him in the eyes next time you come home for a visit.

Old Man Take A Look At Your Face

Arianna believes my wrinkled brow is stripes.

"Make the stripes go away, Daddy.  Now make them come back.  That's cool.  Why I don't have stripes." 

Nothing makes you feel more mature then having children, and nothing makes you feel just plain old as when those kids start physcially describing you.

Pic of the Week

"chocolate wasted"