11 posts tagged “eldest”

Eldest daughter was playing outside on her combo slide/house and doing chalk work on the patio.

She comes over to me and tells me that there is a rock in her ear.

I ask how this came to pass.

She replies that she laid down in her slide/house and that it was a rocket ship and then there was a rock
in her ear.

I tell her not to lay down on rocks and then I go back to reading.

Naively, I thought she was referring to one of the many hopscotch rocks she keeps on the patio.

Two days later, I discover the engorged tick inside the top curl of her left ear.

I feel like a total ass at that point.

She described what was wrong to me, in pretty good terms for a 4 year old who has never seen a tick before, and I blow her off.

Nice one dad.

After much screaming and coaxing/pulling with tweezers, the little bastard breaks off with its mouthparts still in her ear.

I, again naively, hope that her body will push it out on its own,
not being intimately acquainted with tick-head cement/saliva.

So a couple days later, when the ear is nice and red, we go to the doctor, who has about as much luck as I do getting all the bits out.

Eldest is very mad about all the yanking on her ear going on at this point.

They refer us to the local childrens hospital and tell us they might have to admit her overnight if they need to use an IV anesthesia to remove the bits surgically.

Unholy shitballs, I feel like a royal ass at this point.

However, eldest is a trooper and suffers through the waiting process without any drugs and the actual procedure with only a topical cream.

Now there's just the antibiotic regimen for the next week, since the tick was attached long enough to spread cellulitis (no, not cottage cheese thighs).

Damnit.

Must get past the words to what she's actually describing in the future.  I am the one with rocks in my ears.

On the way to pick up eldest daughter at preschool, I heard a radio spot for a jewely store (you may not be familiar with the term "radio".  It's like an MP3, but free to be picked off the airwaves with a tuner, crazy as that sounds, but the trade-off being the commercials, but that's the impetus for this story).

The ad was touting why a buyer would want to choose their pieces over the competition for their servicing of
"soon-to-be heirloom"  jewelry gifts.

That turn of phrase struck me.  I think it was a jab, but having just been struck, I could have mistaken it for a hook.

An odd tableau played out in my head as I reeled (and signaled with my left turn blinker at a light.)

Picture a middle-aged man sitting on a porch, overlooking a wooded valley and in the rocker next to him, a bored looking 20 something busy texting his peeps on his blackberry.

Old guy leans over and rips one, then dangles a watch over to the crack-berry head.

"Son, this watch has been passed down, from pocket to pocket for the better part of five minutes now, and I'd like you to have it.  Remember its history and what it represents about the family as you treasure it for the next month or so."

Instant, soon-to-be heirloom indeed.

I don't know whether the root lies in the microwave oven or the drive-through window, but our cultural lack of patience for something to become special over time seems to diminish the power of words in the vein of heirloom and antique.

These things acquire a meaning because of their age, their craft, the events they have survived that separate themselves from us in history.

Our lack of patience for them to become special robs them of meaning when we bandy about these words without their meanings, robbing us both of character.

My afternoon mood was salvaged when eldest handed me her painted hand-print snowman picture project and the 19 month-old made a successful deposit on her training potty upon the return home.

Eldest's project will be archived and will have some meaning when she shows it to her own kids later.  It will acquire a specialness even greater than it merits today.

Youngest's project, while celebrated, was flushed.

With it, the notion of the "soon-to-be heirloom".

Dropped eldest off at preschool this morning.

Headed off to the Y with youngest.

It's one exit down the freeway.

While turning from the surface street onto the on-ramp, I was met with a vehicle reversing up the on-ramp toward me.

Guy had mistaken the clearly marked freeway on-ramp with the driveway to a business park, I guess.

He backed up all the way out of the on-ramp, backed through the surface street (against flow of traffic) and then turned into his desired destination.

Seriously people... it's called, "Yeah, I screwed up, lemme get off at the next exit and circle around to come back."

After the Y, youngest and I stopped off at the insurance agent office to get our policies transfered in from out of state.

On the one side, there's having a beer for breakfast...

And either explaining it away (as it being a Saturday, ahem) or getting confrontational about the expressed, or anticipated expressed concern of others.  It betrays that the user/abuser was looking for attention all along.

Then,

Well then there's the other side...

And you say, "What?  It's Saturday?  Cool, that means I can have several more as I don't have to drive eldest child to preschool today!"  Meaning that the user/abuser wasn't anticipating any response at all and is simply pleased that the indulgence can, all responsibilities aside, be prolonged.

When dealing with depression, you don't need any filters.

That in mind, pass on the ciggies and go straight for the cigars.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nadir

Eldest attended her first day of Pre-school today.

Smashing success.

I didn't even cry as I dropped off my little girl.

Also my first day to have time to focus on youngest daughter.

She loved being an attention-hog.

Meanwhile, eldest rocked out and didn't want to leave her class at the end of the day.

Teacher reports that eldest is already head of her class.

Smoked a cheap cigar with good whiskey to celebrate.

My eldest daughter runs into the office to join the wife and I.

She blurts out, laughing, "I protected (youngest daughter)!"

The wife and I look at each other and ask simultaneously, "From what?"

Youngest explodes in giggles, "From ME!"

My kids are beating my curious nature out of me.

Some things I just really don't want to know the answers to anymore.

The wife hops up to go investigate.

I hop up to top off my drink.

My weeks are largely filled with trying to keep the two knee-highs from killing themselves from lack of experience or ability as they explore the world.

That means lots of the "Why?" conversation that often turns cyclical unless I'm on my A-game for explanations.

Simultaneously, I educate them as I keep them entertained and engaged.

That means lots of wagon rides and trips to the park playground or pool.

Or napping.

I really like it when they nap.

They can't hurt themselves when they're napping.

So, when the wife walks into the office just now, and asks me what I want to do this weekend, I stare blankly.

What do I WANT to do?

I get into a rhythm of coping and surviving after a while... you might call it a groove.

It's a really great skill to have.

Except that it shuts off the nerve endings to ambition or drive or desire.

If I was all geared up to get a book done just now, I would be bouncing off the walls and probably be appearing in court, because I would have done something dastardly to the kids to get enough peace to focus on my words.

The two of them make it impossible to focus.  They are needy.  Constantly hungry for food, or attention, or learning and for some reason they really like me.  As in attached-to-my-knees like me.  It's a blast, as in both fun and deafening (two little girls shrieking.) 

So long as I don't want to get anything else done that doesn't revolve around them.

So, for now, I am content to be without desire, or ambition, or a book deal... or plans for the weekend.

Rather, I don't look at the desire, ambition, or weekend plans that I know are lurking beneath the surface.

They bump my legs beneath the water from time to time, but I tell myself that it's just a small fish, and keep treading water.

One day, sooner than I will ever think it will be, the kids will be gone and I will be glad that I didn't miss them because I was too driven to get something else done.

For now, all I want is a soft chair and a warm sun, something, preferably cool to drink...
and naps, I want the kids to nap their little hearts out when they aren't playing and learning.

What do I want to do?

I want the kids to grow up smart, healthy, strong, and cute of course.

I want to give them what they need to do that to their best.

Even when that means not giving them something, so that they learn a lesson.

Also, I want to feel like it is enough to do this for them and not feel that I'm behind where I should be for myself.

Here and there on a good day, I get that.

Meantime, the wife was still waiting for an answer, looking at me like I'm pathetic for not having the next two days planned out.

What do I want to do?

I fall back to my reserve position, looking at her lewdly, and reply, "You."

Had a spare moment that coincided with the eldest daughter finishing a jigsaw puzzle.

Took her outside in the sun.

Started doing jumping jacks.

Got her to join in.

The laughing might have been more exercise than the jacks.

Until a sojourning pill-bug became more fascinating.

And my eyes shut with stinging sweat.

Latest creation for the musical "Punk-Tot" genre:

She's A Miner

Is this one mine?

Can I have some of those?

Yeah, this one's mine.

Daddy?  Oh daddy.  Daddy?

Is this one mine?

Can I have some of those?

Yeah, this one's mine.

This one's not like the other one.

Well, this one's outside.

This one's not my other one.

I have two of those.

This is not inside.

Yeah, this one's mine.

Daddy?  Oh daddy.  Daddy?

This is not inside.

It's a bug!

Daddy, it's a bug!

Well, it's squished.

It's spider-parts.

Just like my baby spider.

Just like the water spout.

And I've spilled.

I've spilled my water out.

Daddy, can I go get it?

Can I pick it up?

Yeah, this one's mine.

I will clean it with a towel.

Because this is my outside towel.

Well, I will give it a ride to the grass.

Then I will smack it in the daytime.

Because the lights are off.

Is this the daytime?

Yeah, the lights are sleeping.

The lights wake up at nighttime.

Daddy?  Oh daddy.  Daddy?

It's a yellow butterfly.

It's not a moth.

Is it yellow?

Is this one mine?

It flies all over the place.

Well, it's not a giant mosquito.

Yeah, this one's mine.

My eldest 3 year old is a master of this art.

The 6 year old girl next door saw us checking the mailbox at the street on Friday.

She came over and said hi and asked if my daughter wanted to come play.

Girl:  "Hi, do you want to come play at our house?"

Eldest:  "Well, we're checking the mailbox for letters."

Girl:  "We have lots of toys that we can play with and I'll share with you."

Eldest:  (pointing to the sky) "That's an airplane.  Mommy rides airplanes to work in other cities."

Girl:  "I cleaned my room so that we have room to play.  It didn't take very long at all."

Eldest:  (pointing two-handed at our house) "This is our house.  It's not our Michigan house.  This is our Nashville house.  We have two houses."

Girl's Father:  (loading bags into car.)  "C'mon - - - -, we have to go now.  Come get in the car with your sister."

Girl:  (to Father) "In a second."  (to Eldest) "Maybe we can play sometime?"

Eldest:  (to me)  "I have to go potty."

Me:  (to Eldest) "Say bye-bye."

Eldest:  (walks inside.)

Me: (to Girl) "Oh, maybe she can play later.  Bye-bye."

Girl:  (to me/Eldest) "Bye-bye."  (to Father)  "I'm coming Daddy!"