Wednesday, June 4, 2008

i can't believe i'm saying this

1
Ok, something short tonight, but nevertheless, something potentially profound. Or at least disturbing.

Probably just disturbing.

Anyway, I was yelling at Caleb the other night and when I finished yelling at him, I stopped and thought to myself: "I can't believe I actually am saying this." Well, that got me thinking back about all those types of incidents we've encountered with the kids. Here's my top 10 list of things I can't believe I had to say--some with commentary and some without.

Here we go:

10.
"Caleb, it's time to take your dress off, wash the make-up off your face and get your pajamas on . . . it's bed time." (Probably about 3 years ago when Caleb went through his dress and make-up stage. Mercifully it ended. As far as I know.)

9.
"Tam, are these really my underwear?" (One year ago. After I groggily went to my underwear drawer one morning and pulled on the first pair I found. Turns out they were Caleb's. Turns out it's a good thing I asked--I'd have lost all circulation to my torso by the time I reached the highway. And we all know it's tough to drive when you've got no blood flowing to your torso.)

8.
"Tam, what do you think that is? Yeah, that thing . . . floating over there?"
(About 3 years ago when our sewer backed up. At first the job was horrible and disgusting. Then kind of interesting as we found all kinds of things that could sometimes be identified and sometimes not. It was like a CSI episode. With less death. And more stink).

7.
"I'm going to let him take 5. He looks tired and I think it'll be more fair if I let him get his strength back."
(Had to be about 9 years ago--before we were even married. We were hanging out at our newly purchased house on a date, watching tv and enjoying each other's company when out of the blue the biggest moth we'd ever seen swoops into the room. Then we discovered it was a bat. I chased it around the living room with a broom for about 20 minutes while Tami ran back and forth to the bathroom to scream and . . . well, probably just to scream. Anyway, after about 20 minutes of fighting with the bat, I started to bond with him . . . to feel his pain and his concern. I could see he was tired and at one point, when he hung from our crown molding, his little bat chest heaving up and down, I decided to give him a minute. Tami appeared out of the bathroom and screamed something like "hit it" or "kill it now" or maybe even "send it back to the pit from whence it came." I just shook my head and let my little bat buddy rest. When he was ready to go again we continued and eventually, he zipped out the door and out into the wide open spaces of the outdoors.)

6.
"Andrew, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times . . . don't hit yourself in the Wee Willy Winkie."
(Ongoing. This is a strange habit of Andrew's. When he's excited or excessively happy about something, he hits himself in his special place. Now, lest you misunderstand . . . he absolutely pummels himself. It's like a fight in an alley and he's doing everything he can to come out alive . . . . It's disturbing to watch and I have no idea why he's not rolling around on the ground in pain whenever he does it. At least he's building up a tolerance and if he ever gets hit there with a baseball, he might be able to stay on his feet. I guess there's an upside to everything).

5.
"Who's packing heat? Tessa? Andrew? Caleb . . . go smell Tessa and Andrew and see who did it."
(2 years ago or so. Yeah, I can't believe what I've been reduced to as a parent. When we first started this gig 7 years ago, we were proper and polite and we didn't talk about potty stuff out loud. Now, all these years later, we're routinely telling the other kids to actually get on all fours and put their faces to the backsides of the other kids, to breathe deeply, and then to report their findings. Oh, the shame! But honestly, the worst thing about all of this is that the other kids always did it without even taking their eyes off the tv . . . .)

4.
"Andrew . . . ANDREW!!! What's wrong! What's WRONG! For the love of Pete, WHAT'S WRONG!!!!???"
(Probably about 2.5 years ago at Great Wolf Lodge. In the pool. We had forgotten Andrew's swim diaper. He was playing and having fun and then all of a sudden, in the middle of the pool, he stands up with an agonized look on his face. Suddenly, he was bent over double, both hands firmly clenched on his bottom, his mouth contorted in pain. He squirmed and wiggled and shifted from foot to foot. I ran in what seemed like slow motion across the pool, mouthing out the words above as I tried to get my hands on him. All I could imagine was the montone voice on the loud speaker saying "everybody out of the wading pool. I repeat, everybody OUT of the wading pool. We have a code BROWN. Yes, send your thank you's to the Dan and Tami Hansen family staying in room 114. Again, everybody out . . . ."

3.
"Where's Tessa? Oh . . . that's her. I think."
(About 2.5 years ago at Great Wolf Lodge--that one outing produced a number of fun episodes. Anyway, this time, we were standing in the wading pool, talking--Tami and I--while the kids scuttled around and played. Tessa was just barely walking. Well, at one point, the kids wanted to go down the water slides, so Tami took them and left Tess with me, in my capable hands. I watched her bob around by my legs for a while, splashing at the water and laughing and then I turned to watch the kids on the slide. Then I watched some other stuff. Then the big bucket of water poured down and everybody cheered and I watched that for a little bit. Then the kids went down the slide again and came back to me, laughing and smiling. As Tami walked up to me, I happened to look down and Tessa was gone. Frantically, I asked where she was . . . and then I saw her, floating peacefully, face down in the shallow water, about 10 feet away. My heart stopped. I ran over, picked her up and set her on her feet, hoping she was still working. She blinked her eyes, rubbed the water out and kept wading. It had no effect on her at all, though now, we're wondering if her long lack of oxygen then might have something to do with her incredible, unquenchable rage. I don't know . . . I've got no scientific evidence to back me up, but I think it may have something to do with it.

2.
"Let me get this straight. Boys are chasing you at school? And they're trying to kiss you? And you think it's fun? Caleb, that ain't right, buddy . . . it just ain't right."
(About 3 months ago. I picked the kids up from the bus stop and asked them how their days had gone. And then Caleb--Caleb, not Madi--told me that the boys chase him around on the playground and try to kiss him. I had no idea how to respond to that. I remembered his dress-wearing days and wondered . . . . But then I shook my head and made a face and said, "Buddy that's gross . . . right?" It was a probing question by a concerned and deeply-in-over-his-head father. "I think it's fun!" It took a long time, but I think I figured out that the fun part was the chasing and the avoiding getting kissed. I don't know. It's been a long time since I was a kid. I know now, as an adult, I wouldn't have fun if the guys in the office chased me around and tried to kiss me . . . but maybe as a kid that's fun . . . maybe . . . . I'm still looking into it.

1.
"Caleb, don't stick Maple Tree seed spinners in your butt."
(Two nights ago. Yes, this was the statement that I made that instantly had me thinking "I can't believe I've got to say this." See, Caleb was running around on the yard in his underpants the other night and suddenly, he hollers to Andrew, "Hey, watch this!" Then he scoops up one of the whirly bird seed spinners, whips his underwear down in the back and . . . well, down the hatch. Then he jerks around and yells "ow! ow! ow!" as he scratches at it trying to get it out. And of course it comes out in pieces and of course, I get this thought in my head: "what if it's not all out?" And as much as I didn't want to . . . I figured I'd better check. Man. Being a parent is rough. I just kept telling him as I made sure he was good to go that that spot was not for stuffing stuff. It was exit only. Exit only. Remember that. Exit only.)

1 Response to i can't believe i'm saying this

June 5, 2008 at 9:25 AM

Oh the joys of parenthood! Great post..you always make me laugh!