A day in the life

On Tuesday at dinner my Lovely Bride mentioned that the girls wanted to get together for Stitch & Bitch (note: their name, not mine) - to knit - Thursday. My Lovely Bride clearly wanted to go, but felt bad since the previous night (Monday) she had went to a Richardson Heights Neighborhood Association book club. With my own Mr. Mom tour of duty not that far in the rearview, I was empathetic to her need to get out of the house, and said, no sweat. Mr. Mom. That's me. Plus, Monday night had gone extremely smooth, thus I assumed that Thursday would go well too. Ass/u/me.

You didn't have to be Nostradamus to see that the night was heading toward hell in a handbasket territory as soon as my Lovely Bride annouced that she was ready to leave. Boy #1 started whining, which quickly turned to fake crying. Boy #2 not sure what is going on, only that something is amiss, since his brother is crying, starts crying himself. A cacophony of cries if ever there was. I'll be the first to admit that my work isn't that hard, but by 7pm after a long day at the office, I'm tired, and don't enjoy their wailing. Not because I take it as a personal insult, that they want Mom vs. Dad - but because it is annoying. Plus, I know that five minutes after Carter is out the door, it will be quiet. Still, the crying had the intended effect on Mom, who feelt guilty about leaving me with two crying kids, and bad for leaving said kids. Not bad enough to stay at home, thus, off she goes to Stitch & Bitch. Ethan promptly stops crying and goes back to playing with Legos. Wyatt, a true Mommy's Boy, gets torqued up hard after his Mom leaves, standing at the door, little hands in fists of fury, he rages. I've learned that the best course of action is to hold out my arms for him, which indicates that I'm there for some comfort if he wants it. Typical, he rejects me the first, second, and third time. My act pissing him off more than helping - he rages all the harder which makes him look like a mini-Jerr (my Dad, their Pops.) After a few minutes, Ethan totally oblivious to it all, which is annoying considering he was the catalyst, I walk into the kitchen to retrieve The Little Warrior's plug. Spent, he stubles after me. By this time, he's ready for Dad, I insert the Plug and we go sit down together. Smooth sailing ahead (right into a reef!)

Boy #1 who was wearing a t-shirt and a diaper, decides to drop the diaper, literally, in front of the TV. That's cool - no poop, and we're trying to do the Potty Training thing so I let it slide, just warning him to not urinate on the floor, or sofa, etc. For some reason, he takes my warning as an invitation to come and sit with me and Wyatt. Three on the chair, sort of a tight fit, but doable. We had been watching Star Wars on DVD, but Boy #1 wanted to watch something else. One of the reasons we're watching Star Wars is because I was recording Survivor on DVR. Ethan starts wriggling around in the seat (remember, he's nude from the waist down) and his ass somehow starts changing channels on the cable box. Being a hopelessly addicted Survivor fan, I'm afraid that he's changed the channel on cable (which we can't see because Star Wars is playing), which would cancel my recording of Survivor. I quickly jerk my arm back to try and get the remote (which Ethan is sitting on) and squarely and quite hard catch him in the teeth with my elbow.

I couldn't have tried to hit him in a worst place as readers of this here BLOG are well aware (backstory: go here & here.) To add insult to injry just the day before Ethan had his first ever Dental check-up. Fortuna can be a bitch.

Ethan lost it. Shocked by the unexpectant elbow in the teeth, which hurt, coupled with the previous teeth incidents, he lost it hard. If you ever wonder if I'm truthful in this here BLOG...read this sad admssion - Even though I felt terrible and apolgize profusely, with one arm hug for comfort, I'm still worried about that damn heroin of a tv show, Survivor and check to make sure that it is in fact, still taping (which is was.) Not good enough comfort, Boy #1 needs some full on TLC - as in holding him and telling him that it is ok, I'm sorry. To do this requires that I have to jettison the Little Warrior from the chair. You can well imagine how well that went. Not pleased with being bumped, Boy #2 starts screaming at my feet, while a half naked Boy #1 is my Lap wailing. Boy #2 is crying so hard, that he stumbles on my feet and falls down hard, which makes him cry even harder. As if a challenge, Boy #1, increases his wailing output.

At this point Dear Reader, I'm ashamed to say, I lose my shit, which as you probably guessed wasn't the most helpful thing to do in this situation. I quickly recovered though - trying to practice all that Eastern boogie shit that I preach, I did the deep breathe thing trying to collect myself to get a grip so to speak. In doing that, I looked up and happened to see the clock which much to my chagrin showed it to be only 7:20pm. Remember, my Lovely Bride left at 7pm. Father of the Year - That's me.

Until I BLOG again...How did it go?