Single parenting and antibiotics: a deadly combination

The continuing bad experience I had as being a single parent for a week.  I should think it is enough to drive some people to the opposite of divorce.  Sure, if the kids are going to school all the time, then it isn't so much of a problem.  I stress "so much".  But don't you know kids get sick every couple weeks?  I`m thinking this is the first year my older girl is healthier, she`s only gotten sick twice so far, this Fall.  It seems they pick up every little bacteria sitting around with nothing to do.  If bacteria and viruses had training camps they would be situated right next to grade schools and pre schools.  I`m sure George Carlin could figure out a routine for these lowlife attacking kids.  "Cmon, why don't you pick on someone your own size?  Too wimpy to try to get caught by the adults?  What kind of wuss viral infection are you anyway, just going for the kids?"

So my younger started on antibiotics.  I really hate antibiotics in general.  I had her at the doctor for the second time and they had pricked her finger (Man, she only flinched, she didn't cry, I would be crying my eyes out, I hate the finger pricks with those little pincers) and the Doctor said, "anti biotics" and I wheezed and puffed, "no, no not them again".  The Doctor said she wouldn't give them, but the tyke`s protein count, or CPM (or CMP?) was like 105.  Normal is around 8.  So they said, she is kind of in the danger zone and her blood is fighting something tough.

I was on my own already, my wife had gone off to the hospital.  It had been a rough enough day.  But then comes midnight.  Everyone knows these antibiotics MUST be given promptly 8 hours apart.  I had to give it at 8am,  4pm and midnight.  Kind of the only times which made sense.  So there she is sleeping peacefully since around 8:30 pm and I had to shake her awake and give her 5 ml of terrible tasting something or other.  Of course she started crying and refusing and trying to get back to sleep because I had woken her from a deep sleep.  I didn't want her to wake her sister sleeping in the upper bunk, so I dragged her to the kitchen and turned on the light.  This of course threw her wide awake and she cried even harder.  I had this 5ml of antibiotics in one of those little needle mouth dispensers, but her mouth was closed.   And it stayed close.

Uh oh, patience was sadly disappearing at a bad time.  I just wanted to get this 5ml of antibiotics into her mouth and down the gullet, but it wasn't happening.  You get some in, but then it comes out like she is frothing like a dog and my patience is gone.  Bad Daddy.  You kind of have to squeeze her mouth open and squirt it in and shake her head around a bit so it goes down her throat.  Sorry I am over dramatizing (I think).  Or check out a short story by William Carlos Williams called "The Use of Force" and that pretty much sums up how it was.   I had to fill up the dispenser three times, 5ml each time, to get her to swallow 5 ml of the biotics.   

It was 12:40.  It had taken 40 minutes for her to take 5ml of treatment.  I was panting but the adrenaline was receding.  I was so glad it was over (until 8am tomorrow morning), but she was still crying.  What an ordeal.  I got to bed at 1am.  I had to get up at 6:30 am.  Go figure.

The next night, I tried something else.  AND I vowed to keep my patience under all circumstances.  So I woke her up.  I had the medicine mixed in with some lemon drink which filled up about a half a small tea cup.  It didn`t work at first.  She wouldn`t drink it.  "ah, you want a straw?"  "Yes".  OK.  Run off to the kitchen. I got a short straw.  "I want the long straw Daddy".  "Yes, yes, of course".  Run back and get the long straw.  "Don't watch me," she said.  "No, no.  I`m not going to watch".  But I held the cup.  "Daddy, I don't want it in this cup, I want the Thomas Train cup".  "Yes yes.  Of Course".  Brought it back to the kitchen, changed cups.  "Don't look".  I held the cup and turned my head.

5 minutes go by and I am wondering.  I bring the cup into the light to see its contents.  Doesn`t look like a big dent has been made.  I go back and see that she is biting the straw so barely anything can get through.  Mmmmm, big frustration, but patience is still intact.  " Look, we are going to have to drink this better, or else go to the kitchen to drink it."  "No no,  not to the kitchen.  I want to drink it here".  Another five minutes.  I ran to the kitchen and got a strong straw, I think made of metal, perhaps lead,  which wouldn`t be squashed.  Still another five minutes go by and I take a recap of the cup of contents.  Hm, about half way done.  Patience is still there, but getting dangerously low.  I REALLY want to finish this and go to bed.  I run to the kitchen and get a clear straw and shine my telephone light on her as she is drinking so I can see the liquid going up the straw into her mouth.  It is a v.e.r.y. s.l.o.w. p.r.o.c.e.s.s.  I am going to fall asleep holding the cup when suddenly I hear that familiar sound of someone reaching the bottom of the glass while drinking with a straw.  12:25 am.  ugh.  Only 25 minutes this time.  Not much of an accomplishment, though a bit better.

The next night the same.

antibiotics parphernalia

By the fourth night, believe me, I`m getting tired of this too, I told her exactly what was going to happen.  "I`m going to wake you up at 12 midnight and I will have the Thomas Cup, is that the cup you want?"  "No, I want the one with the giraffes."  "OK, I`m going to have the cup with the giraffes which will be half full with lemon drink and we will drink it with the long straw..."  "Daddy, I don`t want any straw."  "OK, OK, no straw.  And you drink it.  That`s how it will work." 

And at Midnight I came with the antibiotics in the giraffe cup.  I woke her up.  She started crying and wanted to go back to sleep.  "But I told you.  Look, you want to go to the kitchen?"  "No, I want to sleep."  Can`t argue with that one.  "Look, you just have to drink this.  Please, pretty please, with sugar on top"  She sat up.  Looked at the cup.  Drank it down in five minutes.  No straw.  Glory be, hallelujah.  Fantastic, amazing.  Let`s get up and do a pig can jig.  In under 15 minutes. Incredible.

I put her head back on her pillow, kissed her forehead and danced off to bed.

The next 4 days (the last two she was at her Grandmas, so it was her problem to give her the antibiotics) came off so so, with more problems during the day and quicker at night.  Patience stayed, she did get better, mission accomplished, at a frightening cost though.  One week of doing EVERYTHING by myself was just too much.  Too too much.  I really don't think I could handle doing that all the time.  Sick or healthy.  

Two things.  Patience and a spoonful of sugar really do help the medicine go down quicker.  But it is never delightful.  Second, if my wife had been at home it wouldn`t have been a problem.  We brush her teeth together now and my wife holds her hands and I brush.  My older girl is currently sick again drinking some medicine, my wife mixes it with some juice.  The older girl hates the taste, but it goes down over a minute span.  What was I going to do, call my next door neighbor to come over and help me give my younger girl the antibiotics at Midnight?  Call in Grandma?  If you got to do something and you are the only parent and the kid doesn`t like it, then all the grief gets thrown at you. It just takes that much longer to get it done.  I was at wits end trying to get her to take the antibiotics.  It was like brushing her teeth in the summer all over again.  As a result, I hate antibiotics even more AND being a single parent.  I don`t want it.  I will kick myself and remember this episode whenever I start to have an argument with my spouse.    

 I might change some things.  I didn't edit this so well before I posted.  Should still do that.  But I want to leave you with a word of caution about antibiotics: please use them wisely and don`t always use them just because your Doctor says so.   They are necessary for some bacterial infections, but downright useless and even dangerous for other sicknesses.  Here is just one link.  

Try to stay healthy.  But I realize for kids, that is like asking them to eat spinach and like it.  Not gonna happen (he says shaking his head)

Happy healthy days

   

  

Single Parenting pt 1: It aint easy, no fun at all

I wrote one post early on about the division of labor at home with the kids and family life.  I don't care how you split up the labor, just split it up as you will be much saner in mind and I think both happier. One person can catch their second wind resting while the other is playing around doing duty, having fun with the kids.  This makes sense doesn't it? 

The problem is, how can you divide up the labor when you have nobody to divide it up with?  I know the divorce rate is high, but when I just read that according to divorcerate.org, 40 to 50 per cent of marriages in the US will end in divorce.  Whoa.  Why even get married?  Well, it depends on how old you are when you get married.  The older you are, the less of a chance it will end in divorce, and a lot of other variables,  but this is not what I wanted to talk about (thank goodness as divorce is just too sad a word for me).  What I wanted to talk about was the sheer difficulty of, the amount of work, of a one parent household. 

For the first time now a couple weeks ago, I experienced single parenting for a week and I think... its a bad idea.  The following is just a "short" example of how tough single parenting can be.   This post is going to be too long.  If you read the whole thing in one sitting withoug getting bored or going for a cup of tea, I salute you on your patience and your interest.  Many thanks.  

THE BACKGROUND
My wife was diagnosed with viral meningitis on a Wednesday in October.  She went to the hospital on Thursday and suddenly said she had to stay there for at least a week, maybe for two weeks or more.   Not to mention that my youngest daughter had gotten sick before my wife and was on antibiotics.  She really should have laid low and not gone outside at all.   So she was home from school all day. But I had to get my other daughter to school every day.  Which meant I had to take the sick girl along with us because I couldn't leave her at home alone.

I need to stress an important point.  I must say that I am very wary of people who experience something for a very short time and then write about it or talk about it as if they know every aspect.  That has happened to me when I asked a couple people when it was urgent to work at my job for the day.  They repeated their experience to me for years afterward as if they knew my business inside and out.  Their one day of work made them experts in my field.  So, what I mean to say is, I don't know what it is like to be a single parent.  From my very limited limited view it is even worse than what I experienced.  But it could be, once you get the hang of it, once you get in the groove, you start to be able to handle it.  Nope.  Not for me.  I don't want to go down that path.  It is against me, it is against how I want to bring up my kids and what I am most most certain they need:  A two parent household.  Sometimes the parents are out of sync and at odds with each other, but still loving and providing care for each other AND the kids, as much as they can.  A single parent household... I don't want to live that way more than I did.  Here is a sample why:

 THE MORNING
The days started at 6.25 am and I had to get both girls up, dressed and breakfasted by 7.35 when I had to walk my older daughter to school.  Usually I am getting up and preparing the breakfasts while my wife gets the girls dressed.  Now I had to do it all alone.  Luckily both girls did it themselves with me pushing them along.  My fashion sense is null, so I just let them wear what they chose themselves.  My wife would not do that.  I am sure they were not looking as good as when my wife chose their clothes.

The real pain came when I had to get them both out and walking to the school.  The youngest does not move so quickly and has to do everything ... just so.  And if she doesn't then she lapses into a fit.  So if you try to put her socks on her she doesn't like it.  And if you do put her socks on, she will be crying for ten or fifteen minutes that you did it and will probably take them off again.  But if you don't do it, she will be sitting there for five minutes in the process of putting on her socks.  I was trying to keep my patience, but the time kept on ticking ticking ticking into the future.  THIS time I had to be on a schedule.  Patience, unfortunately and sadly, got thrown out the door.  Against all that I have advocated before and STILL advocate:  Patience, patience, pa... put on the sock already will you?   Or else I will.

The worst day,... or one of them anyway, the littlest girl is in a fit because I had forcibly put on her coat which she had been deciding to put on for five minutes.  She hadn't even gotten to the stage of getting the coat on, she was still in the choosing the coat stage.  My problem is that I can`t get into the mindset of this three year old.  It was a big violation for me to put on her coat.  I am sorry about that. That brought on the first round of heavy duty crying, but we got out the door at 7.35.

I thought I would put my daughter in the stroller and wheel her through the streets like that woman in the Wizard of OZ who was on a mission to take Dorothy` s dog Toto.  I felt like her too.   It was all
whirlwind and heat.  But when I opened the door to outside I found it was raining outside and I didn't have a cover for the stroller and ten minutes in the rain would have gotten all of us soaked.  That would have meant flu or some other sickness on top of what my youngest daughter had and maybe for us healthy people too.  I couldn't risk it.  So I rolled the stroller back inside the building.  We live in an apartment building.  Just then my 80 year old neighbor was going up on the elevator.  I practically threw the stroller at her and asked her to take it up to our floor and just park it outside our apartment door.  All niceties and formalities also out the door.

Then I piled the girls into the car.  7.40 heading for 7.45.  And then the fr... strap, the seat belt for my littlest girl wouldn't reach, or wouldn't hold in the connector and I am sitting there struggling with it for three minutes until I decided that I cant do this and just asked my older girl to hold the seat belt over her in place and ... we ll hope for no problems.  Admittedly kind of illegal and dangerous.

I was in a hurry, but even when I am in a hurry, I never take it out on the road.  I am careful, no road rage here.   So I don't know where the vote of  no confidence from my youngest girl came from. She had just finished her crying session as she probably knew that there were bigger concerns but she said,  "Daddy, I don't want you to drive.  I don't like you driving".   Seriously.  I am a good driver.  I don't know where that came from.  She might as well have told me that she hated me and wanted a different parent.  Even worse, because she has said that before in different words, namely, "NOT YOU.  MOMMY".  So yes, I became rattled even more.   Settle down.  Keep your cool.  Its OK.  7.45.

And I did keep my cool.  Though I looked mournfully on as it hit 7.50 and I made a nominally bad turn onto the busy street instead of turning into the school street.  So I had to drive down the busy street for a hundred meters, make a left hand turn in front of traffic with no light and do a parallel parking two blocks on the other side of the school.  But I did it you know.  And in fact God took care of the little things and cleared the oncoming traffic for my left hand turn AND gave me a big space to parallel park in so it was no trouble.  Just like in the movies.  That was nice of the Almighty.  Because now it was 7.50.  8 o clock and she is late. (Althought note, I have been tricked before on this big space to parallel park.  I did it one late evening where no one was parked and found the next day that they were doing street cleaning on that street and all cars had to be off that street. I got a traffic fine.  So I guess i was owed for that trick, right?)

I have to interject here and explain the imperative of getting her to school on time.   Just the week before I had been at parent meetings with the teacher and the one thing I talked about with the teacher was... getting my little student to school on time.  The teacher was very nice about it, "Have you tried going to bed 15 minutes sooner?  She can be tired for the first class during the day.  That is OK.  Some of the students are".  Very accommodating, but, "I really want her in her seat by the first bell, not the late bell."  So, I didn't want to blow it just one week after meeting with her.

I parked, got them out of the car, got the littlest girl sitting on my shoulders so I could run with my older girl and ran through the rain.  She did get there by 7.55 and changed at her locker and ran up to her class.  I think she got to her class by 7.58.  Yes.   Unf.believeable.

But this was not fun.  No fun at all.  Normally I walk with my girl to school.  We hurry a little, but its mostly a casual walk where we smell the breakfast smells at a restaurant, or run on the mini golf courses a bit, and enjoy the mild Fall weather.  But no, that whole week, every morning was just rush rush rush.  There was no room for patience or enjoyment.  It was just a battle against the clock.

After the adrenaline hype I usually would get a cocoa with my littlest girl. Once we sat in a coffee shop and she drank a cocoa. I corrected my heart rate so it wasn't beating at 120 and got it back down to 60 bpm.  The cocoa was a nice reward and a nice aftermath THAT morning, but...

THERE IS NO WAY I WANT TO BE A SINGLE PARENT.

We came back home and the next battle started: Giving her 5 ml of antibiotics

to be continued......   

A picture of a nice school I liked

Test your patience Skills

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.   

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   

    

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.

Hiding Place

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. 

     

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.

Back in the day, kings had longer hair

 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.      

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.."

"No no, you cant go past the pole, its too deep"

 

    "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.