Monday is over. One more Monday and the Queen will be home. Kids went back to the education factory today, which gave me a huge break.
With the Queen of the house gone, my daughter has stepped up to be the new Queen. Only her role is significantly reduced to that of Drama. I've learned to ignore her. It's either that or start a fight. And I can't afford that emotional capital.
Today, when the monster came home from the factory, my daughter insisted on two things: first she wasn't going to do her homework and secondly, she was going to help her brother with his homework. There was no discussion. Every time I tried to change the conversation, she called me out. "Why won't you answer my question. You always say that when you ask a question, I need to answer it. Doesn't the same thing apply to you?" She doesn't understand that her brother has dyslexia and he needs special help with his reading. I didn't want to say anything in front of her brother, so I kept quiet.
With all the non answers, she got mad. And the Academy Award goes to Ms. Nicholson for Best Actress in a dramatic role. Although my nature is to not let her get away with her attitude, I'm a bit afraid of where this could go. Plus I'm super focused on getting supper ready, homework and doing dishes before my 6 pm conference call.
With supper in the over, I pass by the little girl to go to the bathroom. As I cross her path, I fully expect a sigh or a some smart, hurtful remark that could push me over the patience fence. Instead, I hear a faint, "I'm sorry daddy". Although low in voice, it spun me around like a record player. A female in my house was apologizing to me. This is a first. At first I didn't know what to say. Then before I could think about it, the words "Thank you" came out of my mouth. After a big hug, our relationship was back on the rails.
Whew! Another fight averted. Note to self, next time she pulls her shit, don't engage. Walk away and let her cool down. She has the ability to apologize. That's a huge skill.
The rest of the night went well. Kids went to bed again at a good time.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Monday, April 13, 2015
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 7
Day 7 of my life of a single parent has been a breeze just like the previous six. Besides journaling each day, I've stopped counting the days until my queen arrives. Not sure if she's ever going to arrive. Besides one vague email, we haven't heard from her. Both her parents and mine are starting to ask questions that I can't answer. All I now is that she's in a jungle somewhere in South America. Wifi and cell coverage are probably non-existent. Indoor plumbing is a still a new idea in some parts of the world, so I'm sure mobile phones and internet connections are still 50 years away.
Today being Sunday, I am a bit worried that cabin fever may set in. I offered to go for a drive. They declined. I asked them to go outside. They refused. I gave up and let them watch their movies on Netflix. Good ole TV never lets me down as the babysitter. No fighting, quarreling or bickering. And daddy gets to do some of his own work.
At 3:30, my world broke apart. The boy goes skating every Sunday at 4 pm. Getting him ready is easy because he wants to go. It's the other monster that tore apart the illusion of my world. She didn't want to go. She doesn't want to get dressed. She has decided that she's now hungry.
"When is mom coming home?"
"In another week."
"I'm hungry."
"I understand but when I asked you at lunchtime, you told me you weren't hungry."
"Well that was 3 hours ago and I'm hungry now, why don't you want to feed me? I'm starving here and you want me to die or something."
"How about a sandwich to carry you over to supper?"
"When is mom coming home? I miss her and I want mom to make me a sandwich. You just want to starve me out. If she doesn't come home soon, I might be dead from starvation".
"Ok, let's say I make you a sandwich."
"Alllllriiiiight. I want an egg sandwich."
"We don't have enough time for an egg sandwich. How about tuna?"
"I'm gonna be so skinny when mom comes home. What are we going to do with my clothes? None of them are going to fit with all this starvation."
"Tuna it is, get your boots on."
"Aaaaggghhh, I can't win with you. You always have to win. I don't want to go to the rink to watch my brother skate."
"Too bad, you knew all day we were going to do this. Can you please just cooperate for the rest of the day? I know you miss your mom. I do too. But all we got right now is each other. Let's work together to make it as good as possible."
"Ok"
Luckily for her, when we got to the rink, skating had been cancelled. Getting home earlier allowed me the time I needed to keep my little girl from starving.
The rest of the night went well. I was playing video games with the boy, when we heard the girl scream out "Mommy's trying to call us". We both traded our controllers for the iPad. It's one thing to hear a voice. It's quite different to see a face. We missed her call, but we quickly redialed her Skype address. And there she was. She's alive. The video was crappy but the kids got to see their mom for about 15 minutes. Both kids were trying to dominate the screen. They got so close, Momma Hen could see up the kids nostrils. She confirmed that technology is hard to come by. She'd try to communicate again but told us not to worry.
The quick conversation with their mother put the kids in excellent spirits. They went to bed without any commotion. Despite a mid night nightmare, which put one of the kids in my lonely bed, the night was uneventful.
Thank god for education factories. Tomorrow, my little workers are back at the shop working away while I get back to my routine.
The quick conversation with their mother put the kids in excellent spirits. They went to bed without any commotion. Despite a mid night nightmare, which put one of the kids in my lonely bed, the night was uneventful.
Thank god for education factories. Tomorrow, my little workers are back at the shop working away while I get back to my routine.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 6
It's Saturday. Most people love the weekend. For me, I am afraid. It's the first day since my wife's absence that I have nothing planned to keep the kids occupied all day.
I woke up this morning to find out the dog has messed in the house, twice. I think she misses my wife the most. When my mom came over on Thursday, the dog jumped on my mom's lap and wouldn't leave her alone. She acted a lot like she does with my wife. Maybe it has something to do with estrogen or some female attraction. Since Aline left, the dog has slept every night with our daughter. That's a new habit.
Once the dog's messes are cleaned up. I start my day with the other cleaning. Bathrooms and floors have to be cleaned. It's a Saturday morning ritual. So I get to it. Our daughter asks me to go to a friend's house. Mother Hen has never let her go to this friend's house. I'm not sure if there is a good reason or not. At first, I dismiss the demand and keep my head down as I scrub the toilets.
She persists. I start a gauntlet of demands. Everything I ask of her is done with a smile. I could ask her to kiss her brother right now and I'm sure she'd do it if it meant that she could go to her friends. Since she's so behaved, I call her friend's mother to confirm that its ok. Thank god for icloud! My wife's contacts are all shared through the cloud. I make the decision that it can't be so bad. I let her go for 4 hours between lunch and supper.
With the girl gone for the afternoon, I have to entertain the boy. No real problems all afternoon except the sense of inequality that he's not going to a friend's house. The feeling flies over like a single rain cloud on a summer day.
At 5 pm, I pick up our daughter. She's happy. Her friend is happy. The boy is ok. The dog is happy to be going for a drive. When we get home, supper is ready to be pulled out of the oven. It's a big hit. The kids compliment me by eating every last bite.
Another night without "idontlikes". I'm impressed more and more every day. I wonder what I do differently than my wife.
The day ended with me and the boy cheering on our beloved Montreal Canadiens against the hated Maple Leafs, while the girl watched a movie in the other room.
Easy peezy so far. I miss my wife, but this has been a hell of a lot easier than I expected.
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 5
Our boy plugged our toilet. I've never seen a toilet this jammed. One time a lady dropped her cell phone in our restaurant toilet when she flushed and it wasn't as plugged as this one. I considered taking it off the flange to see what's holding the water from draining. I'm betting there's a whole roll of toilet paper in there.
Despite the plugged shitter, the kids found their toys right away. They were dancing as they came down the stairs to greet their new found momentary hero.
Everything went well again. They haven't been late to school once this week. It has to be a new record. I'm really thinking they're scared of me.
When they got home from the education factory, I had a couple of errands to run. They didn't get a chance to play with their new toys but they didn't fight about taking a trip to the bank. A friend came to visit after supper and they quietly went about their business. No fighting, no interruptions, no whining. Even at bedtime, they went happily along with my requests.
No real news today. Our queen hasn't checked in yet. I'm getting worried. She hasn't been away from the kids for more than 1 day in her life.
Dishes are done every day. House is reasonably clean. Tomorrow is my weekly bathroom and floor detail, so that should be fun.
I haven't missed a day of exercise yet. The kids have given me slack. Even when they don't like supper, they eat it anyways without much flare. I have to admit, I'm impressed that they've taken it this easy on me so far.
There's still 10 days to go, so I'm not going to get too excited yet.
Despite the plugged shitter, the kids found their toys right away. They were dancing as they came down the stairs to greet their new found momentary hero.
Everything went well again. They haven't been late to school once this week. It has to be a new record. I'm really thinking they're scared of me.
When they got home from the education factory, I had a couple of errands to run. They didn't get a chance to play with their new toys but they didn't fight about taking a trip to the bank. A friend came to visit after supper and they quietly went about their business. No fighting, no interruptions, no whining. Even at bedtime, they went happily along with my requests.
No real news today. Our queen hasn't checked in yet. I'm getting worried. She hasn't been away from the kids for more than 1 day in her life.
Dishes are done every day. House is reasonably clean. Tomorrow is my weekly bathroom and floor detail, so that should be fun.
I haven't missed a day of exercise yet. The kids have given me slack. Even when they don't like supper, they eat it anyways without much flare. I have to admit, I'm impressed that they've taken it this easy on me so far.
There's still 10 days to go, so I'm not going to get too excited yet.
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 4
It's now four days into my motherless adventures with the kids. Things have gone reasonably well so far. Today I am getting reinforcements. When the kids get home from the education factory, I have an hour and a half before I have to leave for the city. With two business functions, I won't be home until 11:30 pm, so Gramma is coming over for the evening.
When the kids get home, I have to do homework, cook supper, and wash the kids. I knew I was in trouble the minute they walked in. The boy had fallen and had a bloody finger. Looks like the nail is half torn off. It's gotta hurt.
While I'm cooking supper, I ask both kids to start their homework. It's one of those nights when tearing out my eyes would have been less painful. The girl started first by saying she just wasn't doing her homework. The boy was next by informing me that he "forgot" his homework at school. Luckily, I remembered 8 of the 10 spelling words, so we start based on my memory. It went downhill from there. Just as I was about to lose my mind, gramma showed up.
Not showered, I hustle to get ready for a 5:30 meeting in the city. On my way out the door, my kids forget all of the earlier conflicts and happily remind me to stop at a Toys 'R Us before I come home.
I planned on getting their bribe before the first meeting but since I was late, I chose to go after the first meeting and before the second one.
Ducking out of the first meeting with the excuse of my second commitment, I hurried to the mall. This time knowing exactly what I wanted, I ran into the store, picked up the booty and proceeded to a checkout. Setting off an alarm at the electronics checkout, I felt like a sophisticated thief in my suit as a teenager with a nose ring peeked up over a shelf to inform me that I couldn't leave the section without paying for the game.
"No one was at the counter so I figured I could pay at the front counter."
"No. You need to pay for it here"
Settling my indebtedness, I was able to get to my next function without being late. For a brief moment tomorrow, I will be a hero, I think to myself...
When the kids get home, I have to do homework, cook supper, and wash the kids. I knew I was in trouble the minute they walked in. The boy had fallen and had a bloody finger. Looks like the nail is half torn off. It's gotta hurt.
While I'm cooking supper, I ask both kids to start their homework. It's one of those nights when tearing out my eyes would have been less painful. The girl started first by saying she just wasn't doing her homework. The boy was next by informing me that he "forgot" his homework at school. Luckily, I remembered 8 of the 10 spelling words, so we start based on my memory. It went downhill from there. Just as I was about to lose my mind, gramma showed up.
Not showered, I hustle to get ready for a 5:30 meeting in the city. On my way out the door, my kids forget all of the earlier conflicts and happily remind me to stop at a Toys 'R Us before I come home.
I planned on getting their bribe before the first meeting but since I was late, I chose to go after the first meeting and before the second one.
Ducking out of the first meeting with the excuse of my second commitment, I hurried to the mall. This time knowing exactly what I wanted, I ran into the store, picked up the booty and proceeded to a checkout. Setting off an alarm at the electronics checkout, I felt like a sophisticated thief in my suit as a teenager with a nose ring peeked up over a shelf to inform me that I couldn't leave the section without paying for the game.
"No one was at the counter so I figured I could pay at the front counter."
"No. You need to pay for it here"
Settling my indebtedness, I was able to get to my next function without being late. For a brief moment tomorrow, I will be a hero, I think to myself...
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 3
Ring-a-ling-a-ling..... Ring-a-ling-a-ling....
The damn dog wants to go outside and pee. Mother Hen attached a bell to the door to train the dog to slap it if she wanted to go outside. The alarm clock reads 5:42 am.
Are you serious? If I get up, I'm not going to fall back to sleep. If I stay in bed, the dog will probably piss on the floor. Faced with a dilemma, I command the dog to "Come". She happily trots up the stairs to greet her awoken master. Once in my bedroom, she is instructed to lay in her bed. If she makes a mess, it will be in her bed, not on my floor, I erroneously think to myself.
As I lay in bed, I am now fully awake. No sense in trying to sleep any further, I get up and let the dog outside so she can do her happy pirouette as she drops a number two on the front lawn.
I'm up so early that I have time to eat breakfast, feed the animals, shower, edit a video and finish a load of laundry that I started the night before. Mother Hen said she did all the laundry on Sunday. Yet Tuesday night, our boy announced that he was down to his last pair of pyjamas. In the clothes hamper, he had four pairs of pants, three sets of PJ's and somehow five pair of socks. Our daughter only had one set of dirty clothes, with no PJ's or dirty socks. Two different kids at opposite extremes. Not understanding the logic behind the quantity of dirty clothes, I shut my mouth and throw them into the washing machine.
At 6:45 am, the sound of an annoying beep is emitted from Darth Vader's chest. With both kids hearing the beeps, they hurry downstairs to eat. No fights over breakfast again. One kid doesn't like the lunch at the cafeteria, so I make egg salad sandwiches. Again, there's no useless banter about the "idontlikes". After breakfast, they rush upstairs, make their beds, brush their teeth and put on clean clothes.
Everything is prepared in advance. My presentation material is already in the car. All I need to do is get child one and child two in the backseat by 8:10. I'm looking at the clock and it only says 7:50. We're rocking. There's nothing holding us back, I think. The dog has gone outside for a second round of blatter relief. She's about to go into her kennel for the day. Both kids are ready to put their jackets and boots on. They don't like wearing mittens anymore, but I tell them that being this early, their hands are gonna get cold. Again, without any arguments, they agree that mittens is the right choice. But D'Angelo informs me that his mittens were left at school the day before.
As I reach for iced water for the commute to my 9 am presentation, I hear a scream. Our boy yelped. Coming back from the garage door, he has tears streaming down his face. His sister shut the door on his index finger. Without the medically approved lips only a mother has the prescription for, I resort to the second best option: ice. I look at his hand and decide the pain is no more than a bruise at best. Grabbing a handful of ice out of the freezer, I hold it against the knuckle of his index finger. Looking into his eyes, I ask if the pain is going away. As he sniffles away a tear, he says it's getting better. Time is ticking. We're now past 8:10. I'm gonna be late. Everything was going so well until the door disaster of 8:05. He then looks at me and asks me if we're still on time.
"Only if we leave right now", I console him.
"Then let's go, I want my walkie talkie".
"Will you wear the crappy mittens you don't like this morning?"
"Yes, but we have to go, I want my walkie talkie".
The bribe has worked perfectly. We all jump into the car and make the trek to the education factory for another day of learning.
With everyone on-time, I was able to show up to my presentation punctually. At lunchtime, once the presentation was completed, I had an appointment to bottle a fine batch of Pinot Noir. I've started making my own wine. Actually, the Brew Shoppe makes it for me. I drop in the yeast to comply with some stupid liquor law. Then after 5 weeks, I show up and put it into my bottles and take my new found bounty home to enjoy.
Today, I am on a tight schedule. The mini-me's are coming home at 2:20 from the education factory. With a 45 minute drive, I have to be out of the Brew Shoppe no later than 1:30. I'm told the bottling process takes 20 minutes, so I arrive at 12:45. Upon arrival, I'm informed the bottle washer is down, but the technician yells out that it will be ready in 3 minutes. Not wanting to waste any time, I pay for a new batch of Shiraz and drop the yeast in the bucket to keep the alcohol police happy. Coming back to the technician about 5 minutes later, he says the machine will be ready in 30 seconds. Laughing and nervous at the same time, I crack a joke that gets everyone laughing about how the technician's time is different from the rest of the world.
Getting the red elixir in the back of the car, I rush to the car to see the clock reading 1:35. With only 45 minutes to get home to greet my kids, I don't have enough time to pick up their bribe at Toys 'R Us. I feel so selfish. I chose my Pinot Noir ahead of two bribes made in China. The monsters are gonna be so disappointed. Rushing home, a thought passes through my head. "If I have an accident on the way home, who's gonna get the kids on the front step of the house? They could be outside for hours."
I make it home as the bus is pulling away. Another potential disaster averted. The kids ask where their bribe is. With my tail between my legs I apologize to them that I didn't have enough time to pick up their toys. I didn't have the guts to tell them I chose bottling wine over going to a Toys 'R Us. Waiting until they were sleeping, I snuck into the garage to get the present I bought for me- 30 dancing ladies dressed in Pinot Noir.
The damn dog wants to go outside and pee. Mother Hen attached a bell to the door to train the dog to slap it if she wanted to go outside. The alarm clock reads 5:42 am.
Are you serious? If I get up, I'm not going to fall back to sleep. If I stay in bed, the dog will probably piss on the floor. Faced with a dilemma, I command the dog to "Come". She happily trots up the stairs to greet her awoken master. Once in my bedroom, she is instructed to lay in her bed. If she makes a mess, it will be in her bed, not on my floor, I erroneously think to myself.
As I lay in bed, I am now fully awake. No sense in trying to sleep any further, I get up and let the dog outside so she can do her happy pirouette as she drops a number two on the front lawn.
I'm up so early that I have time to eat breakfast, feed the animals, shower, edit a video and finish a load of laundry that I started the night before. Mother Hen said she did all the laundry on Sunday. Yet Tuesday night, our boy announced that he was down to his last pair of pyjamas. In the clothes hamper, he had four pairs of pants, three sets of PJ's and somehow five pair of socks. Our daughter only had one set of dirty clothes, with no PJ's or dirty socks. Two different kids at opposite extremes. Not understanding the logic behind the quantity of dirty clothes, I shut my mouth and throw them into the washing machine.
At 6:45 am, the sound of an annoying beep is emitted from Darth Vader's chest. With both kids hearing the beeps, they hurry downstairs to eat. No fights over breakfast again. One kid doesn't like the lunch at the cafeteria, so I make egg salad sandwiches. Again, there's no useless banter about the "idontlikes". After breakfast, they rush upstairs, make their beds, brush their teeth and put on clean clothes.
Everything is prepared in advance. My presentation material is already in the car. All I need to do is get child one and child two in the backseat by 8:10. I'm looking at the clock and it only says 7:50. We're rocking. There's nothing holding us back, I think. The dog has gone outside for a second round of blatter relief. She's about to go into her kennel for the day. Both kids are ready to put their jackets and boots on. They don't like wearing mittens anymore, but I tell them that being this early, their hands are gonna get cold. Again, without any arguments, they agree that mittens is the right choice. But D'Angelo informs me that his mittens were left at school the day before.
As I reach for iced water for the commute to my 9 am presentation, I hear a scream. Our boy yelped. Coming back from the garage door, he has tears streaming down his face. His sister shut the door on his index finger. Without the medically approved lips only a mother has the prescription for, I resort to the second best option: ice. I look at his hand and decide the pain is no more than a bruise at best. Grabbing a handful of ice out of the freezer, I hold it against the knuckle of his index finger. Looking into his eyes, I ask if the pain is going away. As he sniffles away a tear, he says it's getting better. Time is ticking. We're now past 8:10. I'm gonna be late. Everything was going so well until the door disaster of 8:05. He then looks at me and asks me if we're still on time.
"Only if we leave right now", I console him.
"Then let's go, I want my walkie talkie".
"Will you wear the crappy mittens you don't like this morning?"
"Yes, but we have to go, I want my walkie talkie".
The bribe has worked perfectly. We all jump into the car and make the trek to the education factory for another day of learning.
With everyone on-time, I was able to show up to my presentation punctually. At lunchtime, once the presentation was completed, I had an appointment to bottle a fine batch of Pinot Noir. I've started making my own wine. Actually, the Brew Shoppe makes it for me. I drop in the yeast to comply with some stupid liquor law. Then after 5 weeks, I show up and put it into my bottles and take my new found bounty home to enjoy.
Today, I am on a tight schedule. The mini-me's are coming home at 2:20 from the education factory. With a 45 minute drive, I have to be out of the Brew Shoppe no later than 1:30. I'm told the bottling process takes 20 minutes, so I arrive at 12:45. Upon arrival, I'm informed the bottle washer is down, but the technician yells out that it will be ready in 3 minutes. Not wanting to waste any time, I pay for a new batch of Shiraz and drop the yeast in the bucket to keep the alcohol police happy. Coming back to the technician about 5 minutes later, he says the machine will be ready in 30 seconds. Laughing and nervous at the same time, I crack a joke that gets everyone laughing about how the technician's time is different from the rest of the world.
Getting the red elixir in the back of the car, I rush to the car to see the clock reading 1:35. With only 45 minutes to get home to greet my kids, I don't have enough time to pick up their bribe at Toys 'R Us. I feel so selfish. I chose my Pinot Noir ahead of two bribes made in China. The monsters are gonna be so disappointed. Rushing home, a thought passes through my head. "If I have an accident on the way home, who's gonna get the kids on the front step of the house? They could be outside for hours."
I make it home as the bus is pulling away. Another potential disaster averted. The kids ask where their bribe is. With my tail between my legs I apologize to them that I didn't have enough time to pick up their toys. I didn't have the guts to tell them I chose bottling wine over going to a Toys 'R Us. Waiting until they were sleeping, I snuck into the garage to get the present I bought for me- 30 dancing ladies dressed in Pinot Noir.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Trading my fake job for my real job: Day 2
I awoke to the sound of the TV pumping out some horrendous noise at 6 am. It was time to get up and work my breakfast magic for a second day in a row. I must have fallen asleep with the TV on last night.
The kids awoke at 7 am, after I had a chance to feed the dog, cat and myself. One kid wanted toast. Can't get any easier than that, I think to myself. The other one wasn't hungry. I've seen this movie before. Where the mom gets upset as the daughter continues to say she's not hungry. And the more the mom insists that the little girl can't go to school on an empty stomach, the more upset the girl becomes. It always ends the same way with two people angry at each other. Not wanting to be the protagonist or antagonist, depending on perspective, I make a conscious decision that the girl will go to school on an empty stomach today if it means avoiding a conflict.
The boy gladly eats his toast making sure not to ingest any of the dreadful crust. He asks if he can have a yogurt and a glass of water. Happy, he plops down and watches the sports highlights from the night before while slurping his vanilla yogurt.
Shit, I forgot. Duke was playing a team with a bunch of white guys when sleep creeped into my head last night. Wondering who won, and forgetting about the stubborn little girl at the breakfast counter, I raced to the nearest chair to get a glimpse of the championship game. Duke won! The only person I know who likes Duke is Joel. Joel was a university friend who liked a lot of the same stuff I did in my early adulthood: sports, alcohol, girls, and raising a lot of shit. Joel and I borrowed a Burger King garbage can one drunken evening. Ripped it right off the pole it was chained to. Some said it was stolen but I returned it three years later. Joel is a university professor now at Eastern Kentucky I think. He must be so happy with his Duke Blue Devils this morning.....
"Can I have some cereal?", a quiet voice breaks my thoughts.
"Sure. Do you know what kind?"
"Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies".
"Together?"
"Yeah, that's how mom makes them".
"Ok, sure, Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies coming up".
The rest of the morning was uneventful. The kids went to the education factory to produce new thought synapses while I returned to my home office to work for the rest of the day.
At 3:20, the front door welcomed home two little factory workers. I had a conference call at 6 pm that was going to last 3 hours. With only two and half hours, supper had to be cooked, dishes washed, kids cleaned and changed, I didn't have a lot of time. Oh and then there was the homework. Our daughter is really good at doing her homework alone. But our son hates everything school related except physical education and recess. Homework is like ripping his eyes out. No, homework is like ripping my eyes out. It's that painful some nights. If this was gonna be one of those nights that I'd rather go blind for the rest of my life than live another moment of homework, there was no way I could get on the conference call on time.
Supper is another fight most nights. I have witnessed too many painful "idontlike" moments.
"I don't like mushrooms"
"I don't like tomatoes"
"I don't like onions"
"I don't like cheese"
You can pretty much insert any word after "I don't like" and it will have been relevant at some point in my house.
My parents would have said, don't eat it if you don't like it. But don't ask for anything else after supper. I've tried that angle with my kids before but our beloved Queen Hen has always food blocked me. With the Queen gone, I am in charge. If they pull this "idontlike" crap on me, I'm gonna use the same strategy my parents used. I'm willing to dig my feet in and fight to the death.
The death fight doesn't happen. They eat everything on their plate. They thank me for the great meal and they put their dishes on the counter next to the sink. I'm either getting Punk'd or they are as afraid of me as I am of them. They rush upstairs and take their showers singing their favourite songs. They both happily do their homework and ask if I can set their alarm for 6:45 am for tomorrow. Being early to school tomorrow means they get their bribe I promised them yesterday.
They were angels. They were ready for bed at 5:55 pm, which let me get on the conference call at 6 pm. With everything done, I let them watch TV and play on the iPad. When the conference call started, I warned everyone that I may have to step away at a moments notice if the kids acted up. Halfway through the call, someone asked me what I did to my kids to make them behave so well. Proud as I am, I know that this feeling could be fleeting as quickly as it entered my brain. I'm really not sure what I did to make them behave so well. I know I didn't bribe them on this one, but maybe they aren't the terrorists I've come to love.
Kids went to bed a bit late because the conference call went until 9 pm. Despite that, they still wanted me to set their alarm clocks for 6:45 am, which I gladly did. I walked down the lonely hall to my royal bedroom, minus its Queen, to read for an hour.
As the last words read started to flutter around my head like a butterfly on a breezy June morning, I laid down the book to fall asleep. Day two is in the books, only 13 more days to go...
The kids awoke at 7 am, after I had a chance to feed the dog, cat and myself. One kid wanted toast. Can't get any easier than that, I think to myself. The other one wasn't hungry. I've seen this movie before. Where the mom gets upset as the daughter continues to say she's not hungry. And the more the mom insists that the little girl can't go to school on an empty stomach, the more upset the girl becomes. It always ends the same way with two people angry at each other. Not wanting to be the protagonist or antagonist, depending on perspective, I make a conscious decision that the girl will go to school on an empty stomach today if it means avoiding a conflict.
The boy gladly eats his toast making sure not to ingest any of the dreadful crust. He asks if he can have a yogurt and a glass of water. Happy, he plops down and watches the sports highlights from the night before while slurping his vanilla yogurt.
Shit, I forgot. Duke was playing a team with a bunch of white guys when sleep creeped into my head last night. Wondering who won, and forgetting about the stubborn little girl at the breakfast counter, I raced to the nearest chair to get a glimpse of the championship game. Duke won! The only person I know who likes Duke is Joel. Joel was a university friend who liked a lot of the same stuff I did in my early adulthood: sports, alcohol, girls, and raising a lot of shit. Joel and I borrowed a Burger King garbage can one drunken evening. Ripped it right off the pole it was chained to. Some said it was stolen but I returned it three years later. Joel is a university professor now at Eastern Kentucky I think. He must be so happy with his Duke Blue Devils this morning.....
"Can I have some cereal?", a quiet voice breaks my thoughts.
"Sure. Do you know what kind?"
"Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies".
"Together?"
"Yeah, that's how mom makes them".
"Ok, sure, Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies coming up".
The rest of the morning was uneventful. The kids went to the education factory to produce new thought synapses while I returned to my home office to work for the rest of the day.
At 3:20, the front door welcomed home two little factory workers. I had a conference call at 6 pm that was going to last 3 hours. With only two and half hours, supper had to be cooked, dishes washed, kids cleaned and changed, I didn't have a lot of time. Oh and then there was the homework. Our daughter is really good at doing her homework alone. But our son hates everything school related except physical education and recess. Homework is like ripping his eyes out. No, homework is like ripping my eyes out. It's that painful some nights. If this was gonna be one of those nights that I'd rather go blind for the rest of my life than live another moment of homework, there was no way I could get on the conference call on time.
Supper is another fight most nights. I have witnessed too many painful "idontlike" moments.
"I don't like mushrooms"
"I don't like tomatoes"
"I don't like onions"
"I don't like cheese"
You can pretty much insert any word after "I don't like" and it will have been relevant at some point in my house.
My parents would have said, don't eat it if you don't like it. But don't ask for anything else after supper. I've tried that angle with my kids before but our beloved Queen Hen has always food blocked me. With the Queen gone, I am in charge. If they pull this "idontlike" crap on me, I'm gonna use the same strategy my parents used. I'm willing to dig my feet in and fight to the death.
The death fight doesn't happen. They eat everything on their plate. They thank me for the great meal and they put their dishes on the counter next to the sink. I'm either getting Punk'd or they are as afraid of me as I am of them. They rush upstairs and take their showers singing their favourite songs. They both happily do their homework and ask if I can set their alarm for 6:45 am for tomorrow. Being early to school tomorrow means they get their bribe I promised them yesterday.
They were angels. They were ready for bed at 5:55 pm, which let me get on the conference call at 6 pm. With everything done, I let them watch TV and play on the iPad. When the conference call started, I warned everyone that I may have to step away at a moments notice if the kids acted up. Halfway through the call, someone asked me what I did to my kids to make them behave so well. Proud as I am, I know that this feeling could be fleeting as quickly as it entered my brain. I'm really not sure what I did to make them behave so well. I know I didn't bribe them on this one, but maybe they aren't the terrorists I've come to love.
Kids went to bed a bit late because the conference call went until 9 pm. Despite that, they still wanted me to set their alarm clocks for 6:45 am, which I gladly did. I walked down the lonely hall to my royal bedroom, minus its Queen, to read for an hour.
As the last words read started to flutter around my head like a butterfly on a breezy June morning, I laid down the book to fall asleep. Day two is in the books, only 13 more days to go...
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