I have mentioned before the 3 Ps to help Fathers bring up their kids. Patience, patience and yet another helping of it. 4 would be better. With that in mind, I bring you the first "test your patience" skills with a real life scenario. Let us begin.
1. You are about to cross a semi busy street at the cross walk. But the street is not busy enough to merit a traffic light. It doesn't really even have a stop sign for the cars. Your young toddler wants to run across because she wants to do everything by herself these days. Do you
a) let her run across
b) force her to take your hand and cross with her
c) hold her gently by the coat or wearing apparel and check both ways and make absolutely sure nothing is coming.
2. Your child is now crying because she wanted to cross the street by herself but you didn't let her. Do you
a) grab her by the arm and pull her along because you are late for your destination
b) start yelling at her in public that she cant cross the street by herself
c) for the time being let her cry and walk either a little bit in front of her or behind her
3) Now you come to the next crossing. A busy street with a light change and a walk don't walk light for pedestrians. Your child is crying and the walk light turns green, but she doesn't want to cross. Do you
a) pull her across the street because you are late
b) stand with her until she has quieted down a bit and coax her to cross the street, though she may still not want to. Even offer to hug her. She always likes a hug.
c) start yelling at her and or pick her up and carry her across the street
4) The taxi driver has yelled at you for crossing against the red don't walk sign with your child, do you
a) yell back at him
b) just smile at him and keep on your way
5) Last one. On the same walk your child is worked up now and starts to cry for something completely stupid like she doesn't want to pick up her sister from school. She just wants to go home and she will cry if she has to pick up her sister. Do you
a) Start yelling at her again and pull her along
b) Again walk a little ways ahead of her or behind her, preferably ahead so you keep moving toward your destination, but don't get too far ahead of her.
c) Run way ahead of her so she gets afraid and she doesn't know where you are. But you wont be late for your destination.
Here is the story.
I was walking with my younger daughter from her preschool via the playground for a quick tour of duty on the slide and swing. I said it could only be a short romp in the playground because we had to be at her sisters school at 4.30 to pick up her sister (a later day because she had a class outing). Even with that 15 minute playground stop we would be late for her sister, but... it was only fair. Luckily after only ten minutes she wanted to go home because it wasn't nice out and it was getting dark. Of course we had to pick up her sister still. 4.25.
We came to a street without a light and I was trying to see if there was a car coming. My daughter wanted to cross by herself and started to run across the street. I couldn't see so well around parked cars and barely grabbed her back in time as a car was coming across our path. Although you hope cars will stop at intersections... they don't always, or only slow down. Man oh man, that was actually a close call. If I had had a son, he probably would have run faster and BAM. As it was I was able to catch her by her hood and hold her back.
But as a result, does she thank me for saving her life? No. She starts crying because I didn't let her cross by herself. Well, I wasn't about to explain it there at that moment. So I just kept walking a bit ahead of her as she continued to cry. Yes folks, I am her father, yes she is crying, but really, I didn't hit her or anything. I am a good father. Usually.
We come to the next street to cross which is busier. 4.30 now. She is still crying from me not letting her cross the street by herself. The light turns green for pedestrians to cross but she is back a couple steps crying. So I had to go back and I grabbed her arm and rushed her across the street holding her arm. Forcibly.
In the middle of the street I notice that the pedestrian light is now red and there are cars starting to come. But I think they are left turners and not from the straight street. That is I still had the right of way and the light had just turned to red and I still had time to cross. But now I couldn't remember. I thought for sure the light was still green when we started to walk across. Wasn't it? Now I cant tell for sure in hindsight. It couldn't have changed colors so quickly.
A taxi driver yelled at me crossing and told me to watch out. I was so angry and flustered that I yelled back at him. However, my mind wasn't working and couldn't work properly under pressure and I yelled at him "The light was red". Doh. I meant to say, the light was green and I had the right of way for crossing. But I got it wrong. So what I yelled at him made no sense whatsoever. This elderly woman looked at me rather angrily. Well, Man, couldn't he see that I was crossing with a little kid? I had the right of way no matter what. Didn't I? I wanted to yell at the woman too as it seemed she was looking at me and saying, "where is the child's mother? This man is an ogre". Argggghhh.
Just about to the school, but we are late. She is crying still. "I don't want to go to the school to pick up my sister. I don't want to go to the school to pick up my sister". A full block of this and you just know that everyone thinks you are a sh... uh a rather bad father. "Yes yes, I am her father, yes she is crying. Its OK. I can handle it. Lets go honey." "I don't want to pick up my sister, I want to go home". "Yes, we will go home. Just about there. I am just going to whistle a little, no nope, I wont whistle, that will look bad. Yes yes she is my daughter walking five steps behind me. Doesn't she have a nice crying voice? Zip pee dee do da, Zip pee dee day. My oh my what a wonderful day."
Well we got to the sisters school ten minutes late, but it really didn't matter as they had just gotten back from their outing and they weren't ready yet. So, no problems, no worries.
Answers to the quiz
1 -- C. But mind you she will still probably cry no matter how little bit you hold her. But you really ought to cross holding her hand. So find the best way to cross safely with as little bodily contact with your child as possible, at the same time as being as close as possible to grab her away from an accident. After all, a bit of crying is better than a crashed, smashed toddler. But if you can cross holding her hand, just do that. You really want a safe child when crossing the street.
2 -- C. You lost your patience with A and B and you failed and will only make her cry more.
3 -- B. I chose A. That really was a bad move all around and as a result I lost not only my patience, but my awareness of the situation so that I wasn't sure what the color of the pedestrian crossing was, if I actually still had the green to go. Bad move space cadet.
4 -- B, yep. I chose wrong again and ended up looking like a fool for it. I should have kept my cool and just tipped my hat at him or waved or something peaceful. Instead... Bzzzzz, bad move space cadet.
5-- B. This time I was able to keep my cool and my patience and even though I felt like the worlds worst father, I handled it. Anything else, A or C would have again made me look bad at best, end up in the police station at worst.
So I got two right, two wrong and the first one, I'm not sure. I think I handled it rather in between. So 2.5 correct, 50%. I still need A LOT of work on those 3 Ps. 6 years of fathering and I still am only at 50%. Patience, patience.
Going to get some pictures up on this post in the next week, but right now I ll just put it up without.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Saturday, October 25, 2014
The 4 horsemen, but meanwhile on with my "struggles". Betrayed
At the current time of writing, it is very difficult for me to talk about, and yes complain a little bit too, about first world problems. I am greatly saddened by the current wars gaining even greater momentum in the Middle East. More and more innocent bystanders being caught in the cross fire or having to move out of their houses with little idea of where to go. It is even worse when it involves children and even toddlers. And then also the outbreak of Ebola which could eventually come to my doorstep frightens me, not to mention those who are on the front line and again the victims NOW of the disease. It seems like two of the four horsemen of the apocalypse are really galloping headlong through humanity. It almost makes one want to just turn off the news and shut their ears. Maybe the galloping will in this manner go away??
Thus with a great understanding of how lucky I am each and every day despite this or that problem and ongoing problems, I continue my mission of the development of fathers home for their children and the hurdles encountered by myself. I do so in part with the hope that more fathers now and in the future will spend more time with their children with the knowledge of the problems which can occur, but with educational weaponry to be ready to jump those hurdles with ease.
Of note, my wife has been in the hospital now for five days at time of writing also because of a virus which may or may not be dangerous (not Ebola, but Meningitis), so I am completely on my own with the kids this week, with a little more than usual stress and worry concerning the wife AND the younger child who is also fighting a virus of some sort. This will be subject of part two of this post. Once again, my heart goes out to strong fathers in the Philippines who's wives are working over seas to make money for the family and the fathers are 100 per cent with their children. I wish I could make contact with these - hopefully - wonderful fathers, though some are not so wonderful and are having trouble jumping the hurdles. I wish I could hear their stories.
I for one know how it is to be tired in the morning. I am a night owl and like to work in the evening. Getting up for school for me was a Herculean task and if they had just started school half an hour later I think I could have been spared a lot of anguish growing up. Thus, a couple Mondays before when my older girl absolutely could not get up at 7am, then 7.10, then 7.15, I did not push her. It all is just too recent in my memory how terrible it was to get up early. My wife was getting angry and said, ok, but I had to take the responsibility, call the teacher, provide the excuse for her being late. OK.
So my little darling stayed in bed till 7.40 then got up. I had called the teacher and said she had had some "problems" and would miss the first class, but would make the second class. My wife then proceeded to say she would take her over there and get her there in the middle of the first class. I asked why? Just come for the second class. I guess she was angry that I had let her sleep late in the first place. She said, it was the law to go to school if capable, but she continued to berate me for disagreeing with her plan to get her there only twenty minutes late. She would rather have our student walk in in the middle of class when I thought it was better to wait for the bell and put her surreptitiously into school at the second class. A silly argument.
Now here comes the sad part. My little girl took the side of her Mother and started yelling at me too!! She was wide awake now and getting on her clothes. She was ready to go. They were both yelling at me. I just couldn't believe it. I had been the protector and savior of my daughter letting her sleep in and not pushing her out of bed and now here she was yelling at me!!!! Well I ll be. That was really,... that really took the cake. And I pointed at her and said, "well that is the last time I stick up for you. I wont have a spoiled little daughter here crying for her way all the time" I was angry. Mainly because I felt so betrayed by her. She had no concept of political payback. No concept of "I`ll scratch your back, you scratch mine". I (sadly) vowed the honeymoon was over and I had to be a strict straight up father from now on. I was angry but disheartened at the same time.
All three women left the apartment scowling and yelling at me. My three year old also. But that is to be taken for granted. She loves her Mother more. I have already accepted that. Uh, sort of.
I will not let her sleep in anymore, unless she is truly sick. Live and become more responsible, I guess. Life just seems to be the development of jading over. Going from everything is wonderful to the general losing of sheen to the downright tiredness of it all. They say it is the process of maturing. Harrumph, I guess some people are growing up their entire lives. Is it necessary to grow up for everything though?
To have closure. I forgave my daughter, who I love very much, by the evening and was happy to read her a book and hold her hand before sleep. Daddy, all is forgiven and probably forgotten.
Music lisened to while writing this post: http://www.theleaflabel.com/en/releases/view/114/Murcof/Remembranza/BAY%2047CD
Thus with a great understanding of how lucky I am each and every day despite this or that problem and ongoing problems, I continue my mission of the development of fathers home for their children and the hurdles encountered by myself. I do so in part with the hope that more fathers now and in the future will spend more time with their children with the knowledge of the problems which can occur, but with educational weaponry to be ready to jump those hurdles with ease.
Of note, my wife has been in the hospital now for five days at time of writing also because of a virus which may or may not be dangerous (not Ebola, but Meningitis), so I am completely on my own with the kids this week, with a little more than usual stress and worry concerning the wife AND the younger child who is also fighting a virus of some sort. This will be subject of part two of this post. Once again, my heart goes out to strong fathers in the Philippines who's wives are working over seas to make money for the family and the fathers are 100 per cent with their children. I wish I could make contact with these - hopefully - wonderful fathers, though some are not so wonderful and are having trouble jumping the hurdles. I wish I could hear their stories.
I for one know how it is to be tired in the morning. I am a night owl and like to work in the evening. Getting up for school for me was a Herculean task and if they had just started school half an hour later I think I could have been spared a lot of anguish growing up. Thus, a couple Mondays before when my older girl absolutely could not get up at 7am, then 7.10, then 7.15, I did not push her. It all is just too recent in my memory how terrible it was to get up early. My wife was getting angry and said, ok, but I had to take the responsibility, call the teacher, provide the excuse for her being late. OK.
So my little darling stayed in bed till 7.40 then got up. I had called the teacher and said she had had some "problems" and would miss the first class, but would make the second class. My wife then proceeded to say she would take her over there and get her there in the middle of the first class. I asked why? Just come for the second class. I guess she was angry that I had let her sleep late in the first place. She said, it was the law to go to school if capable, but she continued to berate me for disagreeing with her plan to get her there only twenty minutes late. She would rather have our student walk in in the middle of class when I thought it was better to wait for the bell and put her surreptitiously into school at the second class. A silly argument.
Now here comes the sad part. My little girl took the side of her Mother and started yelling at me too!! She was wide awake now and getting on her clothes. She was ready to go. They were both yelling at me. I just couldn't believe it. I had been the protector and savior of my daughter letting her sleep in and not pushing her out of bed and now here she was yelling at me!!!! Well I ll be. That was really,... that really took the cake. And I pointed at her and said, "well that is the last time I stick up for you. I wont have a spoiled little daughter here crying for her way all the time" I was angry. Mainly because I felt so betrayed by her. She had no concept of political payback. No concept of "I`ll scratch your back, you scratch mine". I (sadly) vowed the honeymoon was over and I had to be a strict straight up father from now on. I was angry but disheartened at the same time.
All three women left the apartment scowling and yelling at me. My three year old also. But that is to be taken for granted. She loves her Mother more. I have already accepted that. Uh, sort of.
I will not let her sleep in anymore, unless she is truly sick. Live and become more responsible, I guess. Life just seems to be the development of jading over. Going from everything is wonderful to the general losing of sheen to the downright tiredness of it all. They say it is the process of maturing. Harrumph, I guess some people are growing up their entire lives. Is it necessary to grow up for everything though?
To have closure. I forgave my daughter, who I love very much, by the evening and was happy to read her a book and hold her hand before sleep. Daddy, all is forgiven and probably forgotten.
Music lisened to while writing this post: http://www.theleaflabel.com/en/releases/view/114/Murcof/Remembranza/BAY%2047CD
Sunday, September 28, 2014
First week of Pre School
September 1st 2014, about 8.40 am. In a lull in the hullabaloo of getting our older girl to school and initiated there, we left to bring our younger girl to PRE school. There was no knighting there or big ceremonies or hullabaloo. In fact it was kind of sad. A rather depressing handing over of the parents duties to other others who would become significant others over the course of a year or two. I think it was too soon. No more full days of "two of us", me running along side keeping her from driving her little motorcycle too fast down the hill. I think she wanted the return, or to continue those days also.
She cried hard when she realized we were leaving. I wanted to give her a goodbye kiss but the teacher whisked us both out of the classroom, saying it is better to make it quick and no lengthy goodbyes and hanging around. Oh, hanging around is my style, I thought sadly. I didn't get a kiss and our little new pre schooler did not want to be there.
On the second and third days I took her myself and it went even worse. When she realized I was taking her over to the pre school and not the park, she said she didn't want to go. When I got in to the school, she didn't want to take off her outside shoes, nor her jacket nor have me leave. The teacher picked her up and was going to take her to the classroom. That was a bigger mistake. She doesn't like other adults touching her. She is afraid of other adults at first and she started kicking and crying hard. Bad idea space cadet. But the teacher got her to the classroom.
Later, when I came for her, I got the report that she had run to a hiding place and had pretty much stayed there. She had come out because some candy was being handed around for someones birthday. So she showed herself for the candy.
The third day was pretty much the same except that I got her into her playing clothes and school shoes and escorted her myself into the classroom. I didn't let the teacher touch her, let alone pick her up. She ran right off, which I thought was a good sign, but it wasn't. She ran off to her hiding place. The teacher assured me that many kids do this. Its OK. But I returned to get her later before lunch and she had gone through two pairs of clothes because she didn't want anything to do with the pre school, not even the toilet. But the teacher assured me that she was getting better. She had come out of her hiding place to sit with the kids during the singing.
I had joked with my little girl in the morning on the second day that she was breaking my heart by crying. But she warned me on the third day "Daddy, I'm going to break your heart," by crying of course. She did. I mean, she broke my heart, by crying.
My friend told me his wife suffered from parental guilt, but he didn't. I looked up some stories to find out what parental guilt was about, but it didn't fit my parental guilt. I felt terrible that I was leaving her in the hands of as of yet a stranger while I went off to work at some nonsense job doing really not important work. I should have been with her, giving her quantity parental time and being her significant other. I felt I was shirking my real purpose, my parental duties. No, none of the stories on parental guilt fit MY parental guilt. (How can Huffington Post get it so wrong?)
By the fourth day I was supposed to leave her there longer for lunch. She broke my heart YET again and I went away, YET again cursing the stupidity of a job I was or wasn't doing and thinking that this was bad. She wasn't ready for the pre school and we should hold her out for half a year, maybe even a full year. I would take the cut in paycheck money as it had been last year. Um, in other words, no paycheck.
I came back after the lunch and was again assured by the teacher that she was making headway, even though she hadn't eaten or drunk anything for lunch. She HAD sat with the class at lunch and was not hiding. Most of the time. I had been able to escort her to the room without her crying and she had sat down at the table. The teacher had put a puzzle in front of her (after I had told the teacher that she liked doing puzzles). But I thought it couldn't work as it was much too simple a puzzle for her, one of those little 10 big piece puzzles. My girl has been doing puzzles for half a year and is doing 100 piece puzzles. They got it wrong. I should take her out and take her home and do a puzzle with her worthy of her ability. But on the other hand, she got right to it and seemed to find some satisfaction in it. She hadn't run off at all. She sat with the class.
On Friday, I was released a bit of my duties. I didn't have to take her to pre school and get my heart broken again. I picked her up after lunch and was warmly told about her progress. She was drinking water during the lunch with the rest of the class. Maybe she had even had a bit of the soup broth.
And that was the first week of school. Is it worth it? I mean should I take her out and have her wait another year? I'm afraid, I wont be able to tell that till five or ten years down the road. When she is a teenager and we will agree that she should have spent more time with her parents when she was younger. You know those conversations you have with your parents way way after the fact, "yeah we should have started you later in the pre school, kept you at home more to enjoy life to its fullest as a toddler." Those conversations which politely say, "yeah you got it wrong, thanks for messing up my life". (Currently in process at this time, my own article about the meaning of parental guilt)
AFTER TWO MORE WEEKS. She is just about acclimated into the pre school. She eats the lunches, well, you know, eats what she likes. No spinach. Sleeps there for a nap, which is good because she had stopped doing that at home and she still needed the afternoon nap. And sometimes SHE forgets to wave to us from the window as we leave the school yard. I look in the window and see her standing with some other toddlers by the teacher looking at some new game. I tap on the window. She looks up after the third tap and waves. Then goes back to her task at hand.
She cried hard when she realized we were leaving. I wanted to give her a goodbye kiss but the teacher whisked us both out of the classroom, saying it is better to make it quick and no lengthy goodbyes and hanging around. Oh, hanging around is my style, I thought sadly. I didn't get a kiss and our little new pre schooler did not want to be there.
On the second and third days I took her myself and it went even worse. When she realized I was taking her over to the pre school and not the park, she said she didn't want to go. When I got in to the school, she didn't want to take off her outside shoes, nor her jacket nor have me leave. The teacher picked her up and was going to take her to the classroom. That was a bigger mistake. She doesn't like other adults touching her. She is afraid of other adults at first and she started kicking and crying hard. Bad idea space cadet. But the teacher got her to the classroom.
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| Hiding Place |
The third day was pretty much the same except that I got her into her playing clothes and school shoes and escorted her myself into the classroom. I didn't let the teacher touch her, let alone pick her up. She ran right off, which I thought was a good sign, but it wasn't. She ran off to her hiding place. The teacher assured me that many kids do this. Its OK. But I returned to get her later before lunch and she had gone through two pairs of clothes because she didn't want anything to do with the pre school, not even the toilet. But the teacher assured me that she was getting better. She had come out of her hiding place to sit with the kids during the singing.
I had joked with my little girl in the morning on the second day that she was breaking my heart by crying. But she warned me on the third day "Daddy, I'm going to break your heart," by crying of course. She did. I mean, she broke my heart, by crying.
My friend told me his wife suffered from parental guilt, but he didn't. I looked up some stories to find out what parental guilt was about, but it didn't fit my parental guilt. I felt terrible that I was leaving her in the hands of as of yet a stranger while I went off to work at some nonsense job doing really not important work. I should have been with her, giving her quantity parental time and being her significant other. I felt I was shirking my real purpose, my parental duties. No, none of the stories on parental guilt fit MY parental guilt. (How can Huffington Post get it so wrong?)
By the fourth day I was supposed to leave her there longer for lunch. She broke my heart YET again and I went away, YET again cursing the stupidity of a job I was or wasn't doing and thinking that this was bad. She wasn't ready for the pre school and we should hold her out for half a year, maybe even a full year. I would take the cut in paycheck money as it had been last year. Um, in other words, no paycheck.
I came back after the lunch and was again assured by the teacher that she was making headway, even though she hadn't eaten or drunk anything for lunch. She HAD sat with the class at lunch and was not hiding. Most of the time. I had been able to escort her to the room without her crying and she had sat down at the table. The teacher had put a puzzle in front of her (after I had told the teacher that she liked doing puzzles). But I thought it couldn't work as it was much too simple a puzzle for her, one of those little 10 big piece puzzles. My girl has been doing puzzles for half a year and is doing 100 piece puzzles. They got it wrong. I should take her out and take her home and do a puzzle with her worthy of her ability. But on the other hand, she got right to it and seemed to find some satisfaction in it. She hadn't run off at all. She sat with the class.
On Friday, I was released a bit of my duties. I didn't have to take her to pre school and get my heart broken again. I picked her up after lunch and was warmly told about her progress. She was drinking water during the lunch with the rest of the class. Maybe she had even had a bit of the soup broth.
And that was the first week of school. Is it worth it? I mean should I take her out and have her wait another year? I'm afraid, I wont be able to tell that till five or ten years down the road. When she is a teenager and we will agree that she should have spent more time with her parents when she was younger. You know those conversations you have with your parents way way after the fact, "yeah we should have started you later in the pre school, kept you at home more to enjoy life to its fullest as a toddler." Those conversations which politely say, "yeah you got it wrong, thanks for messing up my life". (Currently in process at this time, my own article about the meaning of parental guilt)
AFTER TWO MORE WEEKS. She is just about acclimated into the pre school. She eats the lunches, well, you know, eats what she likes. No spinach. Sleeps there for a nap, which is good because she had stopped doing that at home and she still needed the afternoon nap. And sometimes SHE forgets to wave to us from the window as we leave the school yard. I look in the window and see her standing with some other toddlers by the teacher looking at some new game. I tap on the window. She looks up after the third tap and waves. Then goes back to her task at hand.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
First week of School
Monday September 1st, 2014 6.30 am. Oh boy, here we go again. For the next 15 years I ll have to get up at 6.30am Monday through Friday, the whole school year. I am just not a morning person. I have said it before, whoever invented the hours 6am to 9am should be locked up, and or forced to stay up till midnight every day in their crazy cell. When I was a teenager I was severely depressed in the morning hours, almost to the point of... Now I am hitting middle age and have to do it all over again. But I guess this time its for a good cause, namely not me, but for two wonderful little girls who I love very much. And I will say that to myself every day as I push myself out of bed at 6.30am .... for the next 15 years.
It was wonderful the first day of school. There was some sort of knighting going on. The school is located on the square named after a famous King. So that King was accepting them into the knighthood of the school. A (chocolate) medallion was put around the neck of each new student as they passed into the new school. Many pictures were taken of course. Then we all went up and looked at the classroom of where our student would be learning most of her time I gather. Lets hope the emphasis will be on learning. In between we had to take our little tinier girl over to her pre school. More on that in part 2. Then we went back and the parents listened to the teacher give all the basics and the initial stuff to buy, information on the Internet, lunches, pay for this, pay for that and more paying. etc.
The second day was a bit more difficult as my wife was not there. So 6.30: woke up, got out of bed, drove a comb across my head. No time for tea and I don't smoke. I had to get both girls dressed and out of there within half an hour. Luckily the older girl took over being a big sister and got the littlest girl ready. That was nice. Its funny that way, it seems the more time you have, the more you just putz around and fiddle diddle. When we have only half an hour, there is no time for mucking around. And as any mother will know, a two year old spends half the time looking around and the attention is captured by any little piece of paper lying on the floor. But it all worked out and I can barely believe it myself, but I got her to school by 7.45. There were parents there LATER than myself. Me, Mr. "Never on Time" man.
And Thursday I had to do the whole thing myself again as the wife had left even earlier for some new work. And I was just as successful.
Each day I would kiss my new school pupil goodbye in the classroom (by the end of September we wont be allowed to leave them off in the classroom we will be limited to the entrance of the school) and then peek at her again from the open classroom door. She was either busily opening some folder or else she was showing her desk partner some new notebook she had with princesses on it. She likes to show off the new things she has. That didn't work out the first day as she was wearing new princess underwear and she wanted to show all the kids she knew in her class her new princess underwear while we were on the street still. Well, its an adult inhibition, not a kids. In the classroom as I watched her, she was smiling or looking over her books intently. I was satisfied that she was satisfied in her new class, in her new school, in her new schedule. It is a big jump from pre school to grade school, but it looks like she can handle it with a smile and some new underwear doesn't hurt. And thus far into her school year, I have gotten her to school on time every day.
Two weeks done at the time of this writing, um, 40 to go? Something like that. Who s counting? Well, I am, But I AM NOT counting the days, weeks, months or YEARS until i don't have to get up at 6.30am anymore. That will just be a given.
The point I wanted to make was for my fellow Fathers. Let me tell you I still find it hard to believe that I could be doing this. It doesn't feel like so long ago that all I had to do was get myself to school on time, which I didn't. But here I am getting somebody else to school, on time. I am being responsible and Mr. "Never on Time" man CAN change to "always on time in school" man. You can be doing it too. Its a problem, I wont deny that, but you can do it. Fathers can do it too. So push yourself out of bed and take the challenge.
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| Back in the day, kings had longer hair |
The second day was a bit more difficult as my wife was not there. So 6.30: woke up, got out of bed, drove a comb across my head. No time for tea and I don't smoke. I had to get both girls dressed and out of there within half an hour. Luckily the older girl took over being a big sister and got the littlest girl ready. That was nice. Its funny that way, it seems the more time you have, the more you just putz around and fiddle diddle. When we have only half an hour, there is no time for mucking around. And as any mother will know, a two year old spends half the time looking around and the attention is captured by any little piece of paper lying on the floor. But it all worked out and I can barely believe it myself, but I got her to school by 7.45. There were parents there LATER than myself. Me, Mr. "Never on Time" man.
And Thursday I had to do the whole thing myself again as the wife had left even earlier for some new work. And I was just as successful.
Each day I would kiss my new school pupil goodbye in the classroom (by the end of September we wont be allowed to leave them off in the classroom we will be limited to the entrance of the school) and then peek at her again from the open classroom door. She was either busily opening some folder or else she was showing her desk partner some new notebook she had with princesses on it. She likes to show off the new things she has. That didn't work out the first day as she was wearing new princess underwear and she wanted to show all the kids she knew in her class her new princess underwear while we were on the street still. Well, its an adult inhibition, not a kids. In the classroom as I watched her, she was smiling or looking over her books intently. I was satisfied that she was satisfied in her new class, in her new school, in her new schedule. It is a big jump from pre school to grade school, but it looks like she can handle it with a smile and some new underwear doesn't hurt. And thus far into her school year, I have gotten her to school on time every day.
Two weeks done at the time of this writing, um, 40 to go? Something like that. Who s counting? Well, I am, But I AM NOT counting the days, weeks, months or YEARS until i don't have to get up at 6.30am anymore. That will just be a given.
The point I wanted to make was for my fellow Fathers. Let me tell you I still find it hard to believe that I could be doing this. It doesn't feel like so long ago that all I had to do was get myself to school on time, which I didn't. But here I am getting somebody else to school, on time. I am being responsible and Mr. "Never on Time" man CAN change to "always on time in school" man. You can be doing it too. Its a problem, I wont deny that, but you can do it. Fathers can do it too. So push yourself out of bed and take the challenge.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Summer Vacation part III : The Universal Mommy
I don't like this no posts for several weeks. I lose my readers, all ten of them. I got behind because in the last weeks of August my wife was on vacation with the kids and she took this computer which I normally write on. Something strange about having to write with "THIS PARTICULAR" utensil or that particular format or even a particular table or else you are incapacitated and the writing doesn't happen. Well, I have a lot of subjects now backlogged in my brain. I am sitting in my chair at the correct table, with the right computer, so lets get them down.
Again, I have to bookmark the writings of Michael Kaplan. Several months ago I was lucky enough to read an unreleased film script of his which could have been named "Single Dad". About a wife who leaves her husband and the kids for her boss and her high paying executive job. A story written more than a decade ago but ahead of its time. What I really hated about the script was that the Father in fact became the Mother for the kids. If there ever was a stereotypical suburban mom, HE became that stereotypical Mom, despite the fact that he was male. That bothered me no end. I still believe that there is or should be a distinction. Even if the roles are switched, the Father wont just become the Mother and vice versa. Fathers can become stay at home with the kids` Dads, but they cant become Mothers. Is this clear? Probably not. Well you ll get it when the script will be released as a film which will still happen. Or maybe he will start selling it on some digital download. It could be a bestseller to all the stay at home dads. In fact required reading.
On my vacation in July my Mother went visiting away for a couple days and a good friend came up to the cottage who has a daughter a year older than my older girl. So it was two Dads and three kids. The older girls are friends and like to both go swimming a lot. The littlest one was still a bit apprehensive and scared about the water and went in and came out, but wanted to follow her sister all around everywhere. The towels were on the dock. The water toys are shared or rather attempted to be shared. The water is shallow at the shore but gets deeper as you go out. The girls are not accomplished swimmers yet. So, this is how the conversation went with me and my father friend.
" Blah blah blah, don't splash near the dock, you ll get your sister wet and the towels are on the dock. Blah blah blah..."
"Yes, blah blah, blah, hey, don't splash her face, hey, you don't do that. Blah blah blah blah ... "
"Uh huh. blah blah, well you have to share the water rings. She wants to use the ring too. You have two of them, give one to her. Or give her the board"
" But I need the board AND the rings."
"You don't need the board AND the rings or give her one for a while and then trade."
"awwww Daddy. I need them all right now."
"You have to share them"
"But I don't want to share"
"Share"
"What are you doing? Leave your bathing suit on, you ll go back into the water."
"But I want to take it off, its wet and I want to wrap in the towel"
"Yeah, but... oh forget it, its OK. So blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah.."
"Yes, I know, blah, hey, don't go out too deep. Stay by the pole. Don't go out much farther than the pole.
"Daddy will you go out past the pole with me? I want you to swim with me past the pole."
"Stay in the shallow section"
"But its not deep past the pole in that direction."
"Wait, I'm coming, don't go out so far past the pole. Wait wait, oh brrrrr, its cold. Aiy its cold. Cant you stay in the shallow section where it is warmer?"
" I want to go past the pole"
"OK, give her the board or a ring so she can swim past the pole. Hey put your bathing suit on if you are going to come back in the water."
"No."
"Oh, it doesn't matter, you are only two. Do what you like."
"Yes, but now my daughter is starting to copy yours. Hey, put your clothes back on, you don't go swimming in the nude. The sheriff might come or something."
"But she is doing it"
"Yes, but she is 2 you are seven. You just cant....
"Hey careful. Don't go too far past the pole. You may think you are safe because you have the rings, but you still cant swim very well. ...... "
By this point all conversation is lost. Which is OK. I often have to tell friends that I have to take a rain check on the conversation because my daughter is out of my sight and I have to find her or some such sort. But what is disturbing is that BOTH me and my friend are reduced to what could be diplomatically called watching over the kids and making sure they are doing the "right" thing. Or what could be not so politely called, NAGGING our kids.
I am reminded of the Simpsons episode where the whole Simpson family point out the problem with Mom, Marge, is her nagging, meeeeh, meh. And it dawns on me that Michael Kaplan got it right with his Single Dad script and it is entirely possible that, as much as it bothers me, the father can turn into the mother, taking care of the kids. That in fact a UNIVERSAL Mother might exist, whether it is a mother or father (or grandmother for that matter). And the Universal OM of Mother, the universal sound of mom, is nagging the kids while he/she takes care of them.
Kind of depressing thought really.
This theory is still in the early stages of being thought out. I haven't tested it scientifically and it is open to comments and interpretations and even general guffaws of "that's ridiculous". In fact I wish someone would prove me wrong.
Unfortunately, Universal Mom doesn't necessarily include being able to cook. Neither me nor my friend had the talent of making up a good, healthy meal for our kids. But I blame him for giving in to his daughter and making all the kids a take out pizza with french fries for lunch. I told my wife about that meal and I got seriously berated for that. "Ouch, but it was Bill`s idea. No, no way, would I have given them that meal. Yeah, I know they were eating a lot of spaghettios, but..." Rats, the Single Dad in Michael Kaplans script could cook like a professional mofo tofu. I cant. Wish I could.
Again, I have to bookmark the writings of Michael Kaplan. Several months ago I was lucky enough to read an unreleased film script of his which could have been named "Single Dad". About a wife who leaves her husband and the kids for her boss and her high paying executive job. A story written more than a decade ago but ahead of its time. What I really hated about the script was that the Father in fact became the Mother for the kids. If there ever was a stereotypical suburban mom, HE became that stereotypical Mom, despite the fact that he was male. That bothered me no end. I still believe that there is or should be a distinction. Even if the roles are switched, the Father wont just become the Mother and vice versa. Fathers can become stay at home with the kids` Dads, but they cant become Mothers. Is this clear? Probably not. Well you ll get it when the script will be released as a film which will still happen. Or maybe he will start selling it on some digital download. It could be a bestseller to all the stay at home dads. In fact required reading.
On my vacation in July my Mother went visiting away for a couple days and a good friend came up to the cottage who has a daughter a year older than my older girl. So it was two Dads and three kids. The older girls are friends and like to both go swimming a lot. The littlest one was still a bit apprehensive and scared about the water and went in and came out, but wanted to follow her sister all around everywhere. The towels were on the dock. The water toys are shared or rather attempted to be shared. The water is shallow at the shore but gets deeper as you go out. The girls are not accomplished swimmers yet. So, this is how the conversation went with me and my father friend.
" Blah blah blah, don't splash near the dock, you ll get your sister wet and the towels are on the dock. Blah blah blah..."
"Yes, blah blah, blah, hey, don't splash her face, hey, you don't do that. Blah blah blah blah ... "
"Uh huh. blah blah, well you have to share the water rings. She wants to use the ring too. You have two of them, give one to her. Or give her the board"
" But I need the board AND the rings."
"You don't need the board AND the rings or give her one for a while and then trade."
"awwww Daddy. I need them all right now."
"You have to share them"
"But I don't want to share"
"Share"
"What are you doing? Leave your bathing suit on, you ll go back into the water."
"But I want to take it off, its wet and I want to wrap in the towel"
"Yeah, but... oh forget it, its OK. So blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah.."
 | ||||
| "No no, you cant go past the pole, its too deep" |
"Daddy will you go out past the pole with me? I want you to swim with me past the pole."
"Stay in the shallow section"
"But its not deep past the pole in that direction."
"Wait, I'm coming, don't go out so far past the pole. Wait wait, oh brrrrr, its cold. Aiy its cold. Cant you stay in the shallow section where it is warmer?"
" I want to go past the pole"
"OK, give her the board or a ring so she can swim past the pole. Hey put your bathing suit on if you are going to come back in the water."
"No."
"Oh, it doesn't matter, you are only two. Do what you like."
"Yes, but now my daughter is starting to copy yours. Hey, put your clothes back on, you don't go swimming in the nude. The sheriff might come or something."
"But she is doing it"
"Yes, but she is 2 you are seven. You just cant....
"Hey careful. Don't go too far past the pole. You may think you are safe because you have the rings, but you still cant swim very well. ...... "
By this point all conversation is lost. Which is OK. I often have to tell friends that I have to take a rain check on the conversation because my daughter is out of my sight and I have to find her or some such sort. But what is disturbing is that BOTH me and my friend are reduced to what could be diplomatically called watching over the kids and making sure they are doing the "right" thing. Or what could be not so politely called, NAGGING our kids.
I am reminded of the Simpsons episode where the whole Simpson family point out the problem with Mom, Marge, is her nagging, meeeeh, meh. And it dawns on me that Michael Kaplan got it right with his Single Dad script and it is entirely possible that, as much as it bothers me, the father can turn into the mother, taking care of the kids. That in fact a UNIVERSAL Mother might exist, whether it is a mother or father (or grandmother for that matter). And the Universal OM of Mother, the universal sound of mom, is nagging the kids while he/she takes care of them.
Kind of depressing thought really.
This theory is still in the early stages of being thought out. I haven't tested it scientifically and it is open to comments and interpretations and even general guffaws of "that's ridiculous". In fact I wish someone would prove me wrong.
Unfortunately, Universal Mom doesn't necessarily include being able to cook. Neither me nor my friend had the talent of making up a good, healthy meal for our kids. But I blame him for giving in to his daughter and making all the kids a take out pizza with french fries for lunch. I told my wife about that meal and I got seriously berated for that. "Ouch, but it was Bill`s idea. No, no way, would I have given them that meal. Yeah, I know they were eating a lot of spaghettios, but..." Rats, the Single Dad in Michael Kaplans script could cook like a professional mofo tofu. I cant. Wish I could.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Summer vacation part II : Playground
How can you be a parent and not like going to parks? We have wonderful parks with playgrounds here where I live, right near my house. I walk with the kids there. I don't have a car. The playground just down the street is very good. But it is vacation, so we had to travel 15 hours on planes to go "home" to visit my Mom and be with Grandma for several weeks in the summer. And what do we do there? Well, we go to playgrounds of course. What else? In fact several of them.
The first one was not so great but we were able to spend at least close to an hour there. That's OK, they were more a tennis court park, the kids section was an afterthought. It was out in the woods. They did have a baseball diamond and a soccer field, but those are out of my kids boundaries yet. Can`t imagine a two year old hitting a home run. No, not yet anyway. But they should have put a bit more effort into the toddlers section.
But three big cheers to the splash park in Kingsley, Michigan. Folks, Kingsley, Michigan has a population of 1,514 (according to 2012 numbers) and here is a nice big playground with a very decent splash park. Nearby in Traverse City, Michigan they have tried to set up a splash park, but they keep on having troubles with it. While over here in little ol Kingsley the splash park is going nicely, well to the best of my knowledge. I was just a bit worried that the big bucket which fills with water from above and then sploshes down like a, a big bucket which dumps water on you, would hurt my little two year old. And that water was cold. But she outran it. When we get dry after splashing for half an hour, we go over to the climbing gym equipment to climb. Luckily there is no merry go round at this park. My how I have changed since childhood. I'm nauseous for the rest of the day if I have to be on the merry go round. Don't call me names please.
But Traverse City, Michigan DID get the Kids Cove playground right. And that was made through donations by a private group, a group which is interested in kids health and promoting kids exercise and activity. Carter`s kids group will also begin update to the park and improvements, so it is said, September 2014. We have gone there several times and if it is not too hot out, it can be a two hour stay at the playground or more. By my rule, an hour at the playground is the least amount of time. If they get bored after 45 minutes, its not very good. This time, we had a three hour stay and Grandma was starting to get nervous that she was missing her afternoon nap.
I pushed my littlest girl on a swing for fifteen minutes. During that time another father came over and pushed his girl for at least ten minutes on an interesting swing set. I suddenly felt competitive. After all he was half my age, shirtless with tattoos and could have outlasted me on the playground by an hour. I felt I had to prove my salt and gave my girl stronger pushes on the swing.
My other girl had become enamored by some five year old Don Giovanni and was playing hide and seek. A bus pulled up and out came a little group of specially abled adults. I was taking a break with my tiniest girl after the swing session (the other father had eventually packed it up. Ha, I showed him al`right) and eating some crackers with her. One of the adults came in with some crutches and set them down and proceeded to do the whole playground set including crawling through the wooden tube. He was ecstatic after he had doggy crawled through that tube. Another lady who I thought was a director of the group at first because she was wearing some plastic identity tags around her neck started talking to me. We discussed the swing content in the park and I said the best one is that big tire over there. She said she had never been on that one and walked over there and started swinging on this big inner tube tire connected by three chain links. "Whoa ho, this one is great. Whoo hoo. Whoa, nearly fell off there" I watched her swinging. Everyone should have so much fun during the summer weeks.
More people should get to the parks in the summer, especially if you have kids. Hats off to people doing something productive by creating and building playgrounds and parks. They are a positive energy for little people and big people of many different needs. Myself included.
The first one was not so great but we were able to spend at least close to an hour there. That's OK, they were more a tennis court park, the kids section was an afterthought. It was out in the woods. They did have a baseball diamond and a soccer field, but those are out of my kids boundaries yet. Can`t imagine a two year old hitting a home run. No, not yet anyway. But they should have put a bit more effort into the toddlers section.
 |
| splash park Kingsley, Michigan, hot July day |
But Traverse City, Michigan DID get the Kids Cove playground right. And that was made through donations by a private group, a group which is interested in kids health and promoting kids exercise and activity. Carter`s kids group will also begin update to the park and improvements, so it is said, September 2014. We have gone there several times and if it is not too hot out, it can be a two hour stay at the playground or more. By my rule, an hour at the playground is the least amount of time. If they get bored after 45 minutes, its not very good. This time, we had a three hour stay and Grandma was starting to get nervous that she was missing her afternoon nap.
I pushed my littlest girl on a swing for fifteen minutes. During that time another father came over and pushed his girl for at least ten minutes on an interesting swing set. I suddenly felt competitive. After all he was half my age, shirtless with tattoos and could have outlasted me on the playground by an hour. I felt I had to prove my salt and gave my girl stronger pushes on the swing.
My other girl had become enamored by some five year old Don Giovanni and was playing hide and seek. A bus pulled up and out came a little group of specially abled adults. I was taking a break with my tiniest girl after the swing session (the other father had eventually packed it up. Ha, I showed him al`right) and eating some crackers with her. One of the adults came in with some crutches and set them down and proceeded to do the whole playground set including crawling through the wooden tube. He was ecstatic after he had doggy crawled through that tube. Another lady who I thought was a director of the group at first because she was wearing some plastic identity tags around her neck started talking to me. We discussed the swing content in the park and I said the best one is that big tire over there. She said she had never been on that one and walked over there and started swinging on this big inner tube tire connected by three chain links. "Whoa ho, this one is great. Whoo hoo. Whoa, nearly fell off there" I watched her swinging. Everyone should have so much fun during the summer weeks.
More people should get to the parks in the summer, especially if you have kids. Hats off to people doing something productive by creating and building playgrounds and parks. They are a positive energy for little people and big people of many different needs. Myself included.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Summer vacation part I : Teeth brush
I cant be so humorous in this post. It hurts for me to even recall.
I was the sole parent for my two girls for the last three weeks, though my Mother did partake a bit too. We had a very wonderful vacation and in my opinion we all bonded even more. I am not saying the whole time was easy. Watching over two very young girls and having to divide your attention among them is not a simple task. Then again, I want to get the message across in all my posts that Fathering IS a job. But a wonderful job. However, just like any job you don't always love it. The vacation with both my girls was a good experience and I love them even greater. Yet I wonder now, how single Mothers do it. Why do single Mothers do it? Single Fathers too for that matter.
At any rate, the very bad stick out sore spot of the day was bedtime, specifically brushing teeth time. By the second week, my littlest girl was saying her teeth hurt on the left side and she didn't want to brush there. I looked and saw the gum was nearly above the tooth. Yes, experienced mothers will now say, "you imbecile, it was her tooth coming in, you don't deserve to be a father" and ashamedly, that may be true, but I wasn't sure at first and was worried it was some gum disease, periodontitis, or gingivitis already. Except that periodontitis cuts the gum away from the tooth and exposes the tooth as in these pictures here. I thought I should brush the tooth more to get the gum down. My friend visited me and assured me it was the tooth coming in and not gum disease.
In the meantime my daughter didn't want to have anything to do with brushing her teeth in the night time and this quite irked me. You have to brush your teeth. You cant go to bed without brushing your teeth. What kind of a parent would I be if I let her get away to bed without her teeth getting brushed? She was screaming "It will hurt, it will hurt". I said I would just do the tops, but through the struggle I just did the whole set because I would get angry and want to do the whole thing. It was a struggle and... it did hurt her. At the end she would escape to a corner refusing water to rinse and still crying. But... it had to be done. And I did do it. Could I have done it better?
This will go down on my permanent record. This will be stored in both my daughter`s and my memory. I will stand before God on judgement day and have to answer why I had to brush my two year old`s teeth? What was the point? My Mother in law didn't start brushing her teeth till she was 8. Why is it that suddenly in the last couple days I have heard of people referring to something that happened when they were four or five and they remember it to this day when they are fifty? The famous comedian, Michael Kaplan, spoke of the first encounter he had with a Hostess snow ball four (sixth story down on the collection). "It was a game changer". Maybe I should have given my daughter a Hostess cupcake or Twinkies (naw, not a Twinkie, I wouldn't want to give my daughter a phallic symbol, better the cupcake) at the end of brushing her teeth? Then she would have mixed feelings about getting her teeth brushed. "I remember when I was two and my father brushed my teeth. Then he would give me a Hostess cupcake". And I could answer God on my judgement day, "yes, but I gave her a Hostess cupcake at the end". All would be forgiven as she would remember the pain of brushing her teeth followed by the rich, downy, chocolaty heaven of the Hostess cupcake. Hell and Heaven. There would be no childhood scars.
Well... As it stands now, she may have scars. Maybe she will stop brushing her teeth when she becomes an adult. In defiance of my crinkled, angry brow and my, "we have to brush your teeth (rrrrrrhh)" she won`t. Then SHE WILL get gingivitis, a pariah on her friends because her breath smells bad from two meters away. Gum disease and halitosis at the age of twenty two. Loss of friends, loss of job, depression, therapy. All traced back to the painful, mouth brushing sessions when she was two years old. Does anyone remember Mel Brooks movie "High Anxiety"? It does happen. She will come to me one night after her therapy. Me, not seventy years old yet, and plenty more life to live, supposedly, will be waiting for someone to take care of me. Waiting as she pulls out...
"You know why I must do this Dad?"
"Yes. We all must get our teeth brushed before bed. My stocks are in order for the day and I`m ready for sleep. But, it hurts (I finish with a whine)."
A huge electric toothbrush with bristles as sharp as a machete. Proceeds to brush my teeth.
Should I have given her the Hostess cupcake at the end of brushing? That would have been impossible, everyone knows you can`t eat after you have brushed your teeth in the night time. I just have to resign myself to my destiny. When it comes.... I hope I am ready.
When vacation was finished and we were back home earlier this week. I told my wife, "I will not be brushing her teeth again. You do it".
I was the sole parent for my two girls for the last three weeks, though my Mother did partake a bit too. We had a very wonderful vacation and in my opinion we all bonded even more. I am not saying the whole time was easy. Watching over two very young girls and having to divide your attention among them is not a simple task. Then again, I want to get the message across in all my posts that Fathering IS a job. But a wonderful job. However, just like any job you don't always love it. The vacation with both my girls was a good experience and I love them even greater. Yet I wonder now, how single Mothers do it. Why do single Mothers do it? Single Fathers too for that matter.
At any rate, the very bad stick out sore spot of the day was bedtime, specifically brushing teeth time. By the second week, my littlest girl was saying her teeth hurt on the left side and she didn't want to brush there. I looked and saw the gum was nearly above the tooth. Yes, experienced mothers will now say, "you imbecile, it was her tooth coming in, you don't deserve to be a father" and ashamedly, that may be true, but I wasn't sure at first and was worried it was some gum disease, periodontitis, or gingivitis already. Except that periodontitis cuts the gum away from the tooth and exposes the tooth as in these pictures here. I thought I should brush the tooth more to get the gum down. My friend visited me and assured me it was the tooth coming in and not gum disease.
In the meantime my daughter didn't want to have anything to do with brushing her teeth in the night time and this quite irked me. You have to brush your teeth. You cant go to bed without brushing your teeth. What kind of a parent would I be if I let her get away to bed without her teeth getting brushed? She was screaming "It will hurt, it will hurt". I said I would just do the tops, but through the struggle I just did the whole set because I would get angry and want to do the whole thing. It was a struggle and... it did hurt her. At the end she would escape to a corner refusing water to rinse and still crying. But... it had to be done. And I did do it. Could I have done it better?
This will go down on my permanent record. This will be stored in both my daughter`s and my memory. I will stand before God on judgement day and have to answer why I had to brush my two year old`s teeth? What was the point? My Mother in law didn't start brushing her teeth till she was 8. Why is it that suddenly in the last couple days I have heard of people referring to something that happened when they were four or five and they remember it to this day when they are fifty? The famous comedian, Michael Kaplan, spoke of the first encounter he had with a Hostess snow ball four (sixth story down on the collection). "It was a game changer". Maybe I should have given my daughter a Hostess cupcake or Twinkies (naw, not a Twinkie, I wouldn't want to give my daughter a phallic symbol, better the cupcake) at the end of brushing her teeth? Then she would have mixed feelings about getting her teeth brushed. "I remember when I was two and my father brushed my teeth. Then he would give me a Hostess cupcake". And I could answer God on my judgement day, "yes, but I gave her a Hostess cupcake at the end". All would be forgiven as she would remember the pain of brushing her teeth followed by the rich, downy, chocolaty heaven of the Hostess cupcake. Hell and Heaven. There would be no childhood scars.
 |
| Every adult problem stems from Childhood. |
"You know why I must do this Dad?"
"Yes. We all must get our teeth brushed before bed. My stocks are in order for the day and I`m ready for sleep. But, it hurts (I finish with a whine)."
A huge electric toothbrush with bristles as sharp as a machete. Proceeds to brush my teeth.
Should I have given her the Hostess cupcake at the end of brushing? That would have been impossible, everyone knows you can`t eat after you have brushed your teeth in the night time. I just have to resign myself to my destiny. When it comes.... I hope I am ready.
When vacation was finished and we were back home earlier this week. I told my wife, "I will not be brushing her teeth again. You do it".
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