My daughter has been rehearsing at home for the end of term play.
“Together we will garden! Together we will garden!” she sings, whirling her arms around introductorily.
“Dig the soyul! Dig the soyul!” she continues, swooping expansively with an imaginary spade.
“All day long…” She collapses to the floor, dragging the back of her hand across her brow.
I clap supportively, but am interrupted by more verses about stones and weeds.
Based on her last effort, at Christmas, I don’t hold out much hope for the actual performance. She spent the majority of the Nativity with her finger up her nose, sniffling unhappily while her classmates belted out the festive numbers.
Coming back from nursery I lean across to strap her into her seat. She grabs the seatbelt and says “No, I’ll do it.” She says this a lot nowadays. She marches into the loo and closes the door, behind her. “I can do it!”. She wants to prepare her own meals. “No daddy, I’ll do it.” What happened to the dribbling incompetent who needed everything to be done for her? That’s over already. That's me, soon.
From the back of the car my daughter tells me about the dress rehearsal at school. “There are curtains, but you can’t open them with your hands.” “Mmm, difficult” I say, distracted by suicidal tourists on Gloucester Road. It’s like Beachy Head around there. They step off the kerb and rely on me to save them. I think they must have notes in their pockets explaining to their families why they came to a busy street in central London to end it all.
“Yes it’s tricky daddy.”
“I’m sure."
"Daddy."
"Yes?"
“XXXX hurts my feelings”
“What” I ask, peering into the rear view mirror.
“She says I’m naughty, but I’m not naughty”
I came across this girl at the farm park. She is naughty. Whatever she is told to do she does the opposite.
“No, you’re a good girl.”
“But she’s still my friend. The children at school are all my friends. All the children in the world are my friends. Even when they’re naughty. Even XXXX is my friend.”
I feel like stopping the car, unstrapping my daughter and hugging her tightly there on the pavement, among the pigeons and the dog poo and the suicidal tourists. Instead I mutter reassuringly and pull away from the lights.
My daughter is downstairs in the bath. I can hear her giggling as my wife plays with her. The laughter floats up like birdsong. Bang, thump, giggle. Now she’s out of the bath and she’s talking, although I can’t quite hear what she’s saying.
My wife got home late from work and was getting ready to give her a bath, when she said “I want daddy to give me a bath, I love him more than you”. I felt uncomfortable; my wife a little heartbroken. This all started a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sure if it means the balance has shifted too far, or if it’s a natural reaction to the at-home parent. But it is a difficult problem to solve. How can you advise who to love?
It all goes silent. Suddenly the day of swimming, nursery, TV, shopping, collapses in on top of her and she is a crumpled heap on the floor with her thumb in her mouth and a towel round her, wanting to be cradled and cooed to, like a baby. I can imagine my wife holding her and kissing her damp forehead through the comma curls.
Now they’re next door in her bedroom. There’s laughing again and my wife is joking with her and my daughter says “You’re pulling my leg”, which is a useful phrase to know in our house. My wife tries to persuade her to go downstairs and brush her teeth. More giggling. She gives up and tickles her instead.
Tickle.
Giggle.
“Again!”
Tickle.
Giggle.
“Again!”
Eventually they go back down to the bathroom and she brushes her teeth. Then it’s my turn to read stories. She sniffles a little. Earlier she said to me, sniffling, “Daddy, one of my noses (sic) can’t sniff. Look!” I peered forward thinking she was going to sniff in, but instead she blew out through her nose, covering my face in a fine spray of snot.
Now she is in bed, eyes closed, circled by soft toys like a portrait in oil. She usually asks for more milk at this point, but since she is usually asleep by the time I come back, I no longer come back. Tonight she says. “You don’t normally bring the milk, do you daddy?” I grin guiltily and wonder when she started noticing.
My wife got home late from work and was getting ready to give her a bath, when she said “I want daddy to give me a bath, I love him more than you”. I felt uncomfortable; my wife a little heartbroken. This all started a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sure if it means the balance has shifted too far, or if it’s a natural reaction to the at-home parent. But it is a difficult problem to solve. How can you advise who to love?
It all goes silent. Suddenly the day of swimming, nursery, TV, shopping, collapses in on top of her and she is a crumpled heap on the floor with her thumb in her mouth and a towel round her, wanting to be cradled and cooed to, like a baby. I can imagine my wife holding her and kissing her damp forehead through the comma curls.
Now they’re next door in her bedroom. There’s laughing again and my wife is joking with her and my daughter says “You’re pulling my leg”, which is a useful phrase to know in our house. My wife tries to persuade her to go downstairs and brush her teeth. More giggling. She gives up and tickles her instead.
Tickle.
Giggle.
“Again!”
Tickle.
Giggle.
“Again!”
Eventually they go back down to the bathroom and she brushes her teeth. Then it’s my turn to read stories. She sniffles a little. Earlier she said to me, sniffling, “Daddy, one of my noses (sic) can’t sniff. Look!” I peered forward thinking she was going to sniff in, but instead she blew out through her nose, covering my face in a fine spray of snot.
Now she is in bed, eyes closed, circled by soft toys like a portrait in oil. She usually asks for more milk at this point, but since she is usually asleep by the time I come back, I no longer come back. Tonight she says. “You don’t normally bring the milk, do you daddy?” I grin guiltily and wonder when she started noticing.
The beginning of school must be near. The AtHomeFam hit the shoe store this afternoon.
The Princess scored a pair of black shoes that can work for school or church. The Talker scored a new pair of running shoes that should carry him around the track form any laps during his whole class running time. Every kid at the school runs laps several times a week to supplement the PE classes that they attend only every third day.
Old habits are hard to break, and even though I don't really have anywhere to go in the near future, I couldn't resist getting a new pair of running shoes, too. The Boss Lady hardly ever gets to wear non-dress shoes to work, so she skipped out on the sports shoe fiesta.
With the purchase of the shoes, I would say that we are ready for the first day of school. And we got it done more than 2 weeks ahead of time.
The Princess scored a pair of black shoes that can work for school or church. The Talker scored a new pair of running shoes that should carry him around the track form any laps during his whole class running time. Every kid at the school runs laps several times a week to supplement the PE classes that they attend only every third day.
Old habits are hard to break, and even though I don't really have anywhere to go in the near future, I couldn't resist getting a new pair of running shoes, too. The Boss Lady hardly ever gets to wear non-dress shoes to work, so she skipped out on the sports shoe fiesta.
With the purchase of the shoes, I would say that we are ready for the first day of school. And we got it done more than 2 weeks ahead of time.
The preschool that The Princess attended for the last two years was a big blessing for both of us. She made loads of great friends and her teachers were all top notch. I should know, I was one of them.
I decided early on the there was no real reason for me to send the girl to a part time preschool program. I would spend all of my free time driving to drop her off, and back again to pick her up. Like with her big brother, I planned for her to be at home until kindergarten.
Then I sort of stumbled into a part time job at the preschool. Suddenly, I was going to be getting paid to hang out from drop off time to pick up time. Plus, the girl would attend for free, making my $10 an hour job a lot more profitable.
For the past two years I have been Mr Mike, a title I never really liked - if a kid can call me by my first name, then why should I make him use a title like Mister?, Playground Activity Leader, Recreation Teacher, Assistant Classroom Teacher as needed, occasional Handyman and Janitor and Chicken Visit Coordinator.
Sure, sometimes the kids whined too much and the adults acted like the four year old children occasionally, but there really was not a part of the job I disliked. Turns out I made a pretty good Mr Mike. From what I could tell, the kids liked me, the other teachers appreciated my efforts and the parents liked having me around. For us, the job was perfect. My hours would have me home to drop the kids off at school and home before the bus dropped them off in the afternoon, with enough time to spare for a quick nap. A perfect daily schedule!
But now, due to budget cuts and a regime change at the preschool, The Mr Mike position(s) has gotten the axe for this coming year. So I find myself in the enviable position of having nothing to do once the kids start school in 22 days.
Of course, without the part time job I won't have any spending money to blow on projects like chickens, old trucks, guitars, TVs, video games, cigars or fishing. Why do I always feel a little too redneck when I list my hobbies?
So now I am on the hunt for another perfect part time job. I need something that keeps me employed Monday - Friday, from about 8am until about 2:30pm. Any later and I can't be home for drop off; any early and I'll oversleep and be late. (Just trying to set up some reasonable expectations).
The applicant comes with a wealth of experiences. Some of which might even be pertinent to the job. If not, I can fake it real well... And I sure would like someone to pay a bundle for my services.
After all, Mr Mike is kind of high Maintenance. Just ask Mrs Mr Mike.
I decided early on the there was no real reason for me to send the girl to a part time preschool program. I would spend all of my free time driving to drop her off, and back again to pick her up. Like with her big brother, I planned for her to be at home until kindergarten.
Then I sort of stumbled into a part time job at the preschool. Suddenly, I was going to be getting paid to hang out from drop off time to pick up time. Plus, the girl would attend for free, making my $10 an hour job a lot more profitable.
For the past two years I have been Mr Mike, a title I never really liked - if a kid can call me by my first name, then why should I make him use a title like Mister?, Playground Activity Leader, Recreation Teacher, Assistant Classroom Teacher as needed, occasional Handyman and Janitor and Chicken Visit Coordinator.
Sure, sometimes the kids whined too much and the adults acted like the four year old children occasionally, but there really was not a part of the job I disliked. Turns out I made a pretty good Mr Mike. From what I could tell, the kids liked me, the other teachers appreciated my efforts and the parents liked having me around. For us, the job was perfect. My hours would have me home to drop the kids off at school and home before the bus dropped them off in the afternoon, with enough time to spare for a quick nap. A perfect daily schedule!
But now, due to budget cuts and a regime change at the preschool, The Mr Mike position(s) has gotten the axe for this coming year. So I find myself in the enviable position of having nothing to do once the kids start school in 22 days.
Of course, without the part time job I won't have any spending money to blow on projects like chickens, old trucks, guitars, TVs, video games, cigars or fishing. Why do I always feel a little too redneck when I list my hobbies?
So now I am on the hunt for another perfect part time job. I need something that keeps me employed Monday - Friday, from about 8am until about 2:30pm. Any later and I can't be home for drop off; any early and I'll oversleep and be late. (Just trying to set up some reasonable expectations).
The applicant comes with a wealth of experiences. Some of which might even be pertinent to the job. If not, I can fake it real well... And I sure would like someone to pay a bundle for my services.
After all, Mr Mike is kind of high Maintenance. Just ask Mrs Mr Mike.
So the KnuckleHeaded Twosome has been at each other's throats all morning. Or at least since they woke up at a little after 8. In my best Dad voice I announced that they would be helping me clean the chicken coop before they ate breakfast, because I was evidently sick AND tired of all of the griping. Then they pulled a fast one on me while I was dragging the gear and supplies out of the shed. The arguing little punks started playing nice.
So I left them alone so they could get along. And I cleaned the coop by myself.
Never fear, now that the cleaning is finished, life has resumed it's regularly scheduled bickering. I swear, as soon as the last of the coop cleaning stuff was put away, the bitching and complaining started back instantly. At least I had 20 minutes of the kids getting-along and now I have a clean chicken coop.
An aside, the chicks are now about a month old and they are getting sent to chicky boot camp. They will hereafter be taking some licks from M&M, our 10 month old hen, while she establishes the pecking order of the coop. M&M has been knocking the little ones upside the head all morning long, while they spend some bonding time outside in the yard.
Bet it takes her less time to knock them into shape than it has taken me to get my two little ones working properly...
So I left them alone so they could get along. And I cleaned the coop by myself.
Never fear, now that the cleaning is finished, life has resumed it's regularly scheduled bickering. I swear, as soon as the last of the coop cleaning stuff was put away, the bitching and complaining started back instantly. At least I had 20 minutes of the kids getting-along and now I have a clean chicken coop.
An aside, the chicks are now about a month old and they are getting sent to chicky boot camp. They will hereafter be taking some licks from M&M, our 10 month old hen, while she establishes the pecking order of the coop. M&M has been knocking the little ones upside the head all morning long, while they spend some bonding time outside in the yard.
Bet it takes her less time to knock them into shape than it has taken me to get my two little ones working properly...
One thing I can say about being a dad-- no two days are ever alike. A day as a dad brings happiness, joy, tears, discipline, but most of all in it brings love. We fathers must be well prepared for each day. We must keep our minds and eyes open to changes and adversities that may happen. That is why it is so vital to apply the Word of God to our lives daily, so we can be equipped parents to raise children who will live productive lives...
The kids and I have spent about 6 days over the last two weeks helping my parents move into a new house. I am thrilled that they get to move in to a nice, new house and the fact that the new is less than half a mile from the old house just adds a little comic relief. From the neighborhood park just up the street from their new house, you might be able to see both places at once.
Anyways, I had time to help and the kids were glad to make a couple of extra trips out of town right before school starts, so we have been back and forth a couple of times to help The Queen Mother and Dad.
They haven't moved since I was less than 2 years old, so I assumed that they were a little rusty on how to get it all done. Turns out they had the right idea. Hire professionals! The move went without any major hitches. The only known MIA thing (so far) was the receiver for their wireless keyboard and mouse. And that was easily fixed with $50 and a quick trip to the office supply store for a new keyboard and mouse set up.
During the last two weeks I have spent more time in the neighborhood where I grew up than I have since I moved away a lifetime ago. Thanks to Facebook, I have reconnected with lots of friends from way back. And reminiscing about our shared experiences in my childhood 'hood has been a blast.
All of this has led me to realize that my parent's old house, though nothing special to look at from the street and certainly too small for a family of five, always will be a huge part of my life.
I only hope that my own kids can look back at whatever time we spend in this too little, not very fancy, rock house with as much love and good memories at I have for that little, yellow, brick ranch styled house with the big backyard of my youth.
The kids and I have spent about 6 days over the last two weeks helping my parents move into a new house. I am thrilled that they get to move in to a nice, new house and the fact that the new is less than half a mile from the old house just adds a little comic relief. From the neighborhood park just up the street from their new house, you might be able to see both places at once.
Anyways, I had time to help and the kids were glad to make a couple of extra trips out of town right before school starts, so we have been back and forth a couple of times to help The Queen Mother and Dad.
They haven't moved since I was less than 2 years old, so I assumed that they were a little rusty on how to get it all done. Turns out they had the right idea. Hire professionals! The move went without any major hitches. The only known MIA thing (so far) was the receiver for their wireless keyboard and mouse. And that was easily fixed with $50 and a quick trip to the office supply store for a new keyboard and mouse set up.
During the last two weeks I have spent more time in the neighborhood where I grew up than I have since I moved away a lifetime ago. Thanks to Facebook, I have reconnected with lots of friends from way back. And reminiscing about our shared experiences in my childhood 'hood has been a blast.
All of this has led me to realize that my parent's old house, though nothing special to look at from the street and certainly too small for a family of five, always will be a huge part of my life.
I only hope that my own kids can look back at whatever time we spend in this too little, not very fancy, rock house with as much love and good memories at I have for that little, yellow, brick ranch styled house with the big backyard of my youth.