Can't Keep It In
I never quite understood my father's need to sit for so long in the bathroom when he got home from work. Thinking now, it probably was a whole ten minutes he would take. I also didn't understand why he would get so angry when I would come and knock on the "office" door to ask him some trivial question, or to tell him that the phone was for him. It truly amazed me at how easily it upset him.
Until today.
The girls were playing nicely. I had been holding "it" in me for at least a half an hour so I could complete giving them dinner. I got them to quietly start to entertain themselves before I made the quick slip to the nearby commode. It was not like I had to really work on completing this task. I was ready to go. But what was I rewarded with before I even got to unravel the toilet paper?
"Daaaa-ddy?"
The heavy breathing of the little one was wheezing through the seam between the door and the hinges, as Emma finger-tapped the door as she called for me. I barely had my pants undone. I hardly had balanced myself on the john and both of them were all up into my business. "Great accountants for the IRS someday." I thought to myself.
Demanding back to the hollow door, "WHAT!?"
"Um, when are you going to give me my dessert?" the innocent cherub voice questioned sweetly from the other side of the water closet door.
Pardon the phrase, but I just about shit. If I didn't have my pants wrapped around my ankles I probably would of stomped out of the room in absolute disgust for the situation. I was just in the same room with her just a minute ago... just 45 seconds ago, and she follows me to the toilet to ask me if I will get her ice cream? Is that before or after I wipe?
Collecting myself, I tell her that she can wait, that I am, "Busy right at the moment."
Of course, Ellie realized that I was having too much fun inside that funny little room with the odd shaped water bowl without her, and her pick-me-up-and-love-me-wail begins. You know the one. The cry that starts deep inside the belly and grows as it escapes the nose and mouth, changing octaves as it reaches the surface.
This little interlude is complete. "Sorry about that Dad," I murmured to myself, remembering my childhood punishments to my father this same way. It really means a lot more than I ever really thought.
1.31.2005
1.25.2005
Down on the Corner
An effective form of punishment with Emma is to make her stand in a corner. We never "enjoy" punishing our first born, but this method is the quickest and least painful for all parties. It is the most appropriate for poor manners or rude behavior. Of course, it is probably the least liked by Emma. I know this because of the wailing that pursues immediately after the verdict is placed.
A couple of nights ago, Emma was banned to the corner by the garage door, slightly out of the room, but still within my line of sight. She wept her protest and sniveled with her wet cheeks nearly touching the walls; an evil look occasionally piercing me from over her shoulder.
Her little sister, now only 15 months old seemed entertained by the happenings, for as soon as the screeching cries ceased from Emma and the tumultuous sobs waned, Ellie decided to duplicate her sister's actions. She chose to cut out the part that got Emma in this corner. Instead, little sister decided to re-enact the screaming that ensued as she about-faced the drywall. Ellie was mocking the dramatic protest, right in front, (or literally behind) her sister's back.
Being that no eyes were on me for the moment, I silently and violently chuckled with shoulders jumping and with my hand over my mouth to hide all sound of "enjoyment".
An effective form of punishment with Emma is to make her stand in a corner. We never "enjoy" punishing our first born, but this method is the quickest and least painful for all parties. It is the most appropriate for poor manners or rude behavior. Of course, it is probably the least liked by Emma. I know this because of the wailing that pursues immediately after the verdict is placed.
A couple of nights ago, Emma was banned to the corner by the garage door, slightly out of the room, but still within my line of sight. She wept her protest and sniveled with her wet cheeks nearly touching the walls; an evil look occasionally piercing me from over her shoulder.
Her little sister, now only 15 months old seemed entertained by the happenings, for as soon as the screeching cries ceased from Emma and the tumultuous sobs waned, Ellie decided to duplicate her sister's actions. She chose to cut out the part that got Emma in this corner. Instead, little sister decided to re-enact the screaming that ensued as she about-faced the drywall. Ellie was mocking the dramatic protest, right in front, (or literally behind) her sister's back.
Being that no eyes were on me for the moment, I silently and violently chuckled with shoulders jumping and with my hand over my mouth to hide all sound of "enjoyment".
1.18.2005
Total Eclipse of the Heart
The heaviness of each day has lessened every 24 hours since the solstice. The days get lighter earlier each morning in my room and in my soul. We have shed our surroundings expecting enjoyment because of the general change, but the most amazing outcome is the dissipation of sadness. Unexpected and unplanned, this lifted weight could be awarded to the spinning world or the persistence of time. The tired, worn skin scratches off like a week-old sunburn revealing a youthfulness towards life. The songs seem sweeter. Debates are unwanted and the desire to smile at others and offer handshakes are sprouting more.
The black veil, the lacking will to talk is lifting like the opening curtain.
"Welcome to the new me, please be seated. The show has already begun. We encourage active participation during the program. Do you have your lighters?"
"Freebird!"
"Dance!"
The heaviness of each day has lessened every 24 hours since the solstice. The days get lighter earlier each morning in my room and in my soul. We have shed our surroundings expecting enjoyment because of the general change, but the most amazing outcome is the dissipation of sadness. Unexpected and unplanned, this lifted weight could be awarded to the spinning world or the persistence of time. The tired, worn skin scratches off like a week-old sunburn revealing a youthfulness towards life. The songs seem sweeter. Debates are unwanted and the desire to smile at others and offer handshakes are sprouting more.
The black veil, the lacking will to talk is lifting like the opening curtain.
"Welcome to the new me, please be seated. The show has already begun. We encourage active participation during the program. Do you have your lighters?"
"Freebird!"
"Dance!"
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