…so it’s been a rather unpleasant week with sick (and grouchy) children coupled with an ant problem that required rearranging the house to help address that issue. With all the disarray, I’ve been misplacing things like my phone, wallet, and computer, which really drives me nuts because I try to be diligent about putting things in the same spot so I can find them the next morning.
Today was a particularly bad day as my youngest stayed home with a fever, thus I didn’t get the house back in order and didn’t get other work done that I’d hoped to do. To top it all off, I lost my work phone right when I had a call to make. After searching on and off for over an hour, I finally gave up and used my personal phone for the call – something I don’t like doing because I like keeping work and personal life as separate as practical.
By night time, I was ready to put this day behind me. As the kids crawl into their beds, my youngest says to me, “Daddy, you left your phone in here,” and he pulls my work phone out of his bed. I realize then that it must have fallen out of my pocket when I lay down with him earlier in the day – he was horribly uncomfortable with his fever so I snuggled with him in his bed until he was finally able to go to sleep.
As I take my phone back and put it securely in my pocket, I smile to myself, happy that in the midst of all the chaos, I was able to keep my priorities straight.
Legos as a Training Tool
I am convinced that the best way for young firewalkers to learn their trade is to walk across a floor filled with random Lego® pieces. And by the intense pain I am feeling, I think it would be for advanced students only.
In Spite of Myself
So I’m having a bad evening – a little tired and cranky – and, sure, the kids are doing stuff they shouldn’t be but I’m crabbing at them more than their behavior deserves. Come dinnertime, I’m in a truly foul mood and in the process of getting a cup of water for my middle boy, I accidentally knock it over and spill it all over the counter and down to the floor. It’s entirely my mistake , I’m angry with myself, and it shows on my face. My son sees the look on my face and without a second thought, he puts on his biggest smile and says, “It’s okay Daddy, accidents happen.”
My anger fades and is quickly replaced with such a feeling of pride in my son. Sometimes I feel I’ve been blessed with beautiful kids in spite of myself.
Schrodinger’s Kids
For you parents who are also quantum physics buffs, may I present a thought experiment, something I call “Schrodinger’s Kids”…
My kids are in a spotless room filled with finger paints, markers, and scissors. I am elsewhere in the house, completely unaware of what is happening inside the room. The room could be either in its earlier pristine condition or it could have decayed into a horrid post-apocalyptic shit heap. Do I make the observation?
Perhaps It’s Time To Get Out
As I stood there in my boxers, ironing my wife’s pants for work while belting out some Adele, I thought that perhaps I’ve been a house husband a bit too long.
Sweetness Over Time
About a week ago, my youngest comes into the garage covered in sugar. I had been in the middle of moving and arranging items as we are still in the middle of getting settled into our new house and his appearance in such a state really dampened my day (to put it mildly). I had forgetfully left the jar on the counter instead of putting it in the cabinet and he had brought his step stool over to reach it. I angrily whisked him off to the shower and scolded him for getting into the sugar jar.
My anger came from my feeling that he took advantage of a simple mistake while being preoccupied with trying to move into a new house while watching three kids. I know it wasn’t out of spite – he just saw the sugar and wanted it – but it was frustrating not being able to leave the kids alone to play for a little bit so I could get a house project done.
As I was showering and scolding, my Dad took the empty sugar jar and placed it out of sight in back of the microwave, just to keep it out of the way.
That was a week ago. Now, on a random weekday morning, as I am making a cup of tea in the calm quiet of a sleeping house, I find the empty sugar container and finally refill it so I can have my tea. I smile as I recall the incident and picture him barely reaching the counter on his step stool to get the sugar and then sticking his fist in the bowl to finish every last bit of sweet crunchy goodness. My son is a week older now, and with each passing week, he gets closer to growing up and moving on.
I’m fairly confident that the next time something like this happens, I’m going to get pissed off again. Not sure if I can help that – I’ll get caught off guard when I’m tired and cranky and my kids are doing something they really shouldn’t be doing. Even so, next time, I hope I find the sugar jar a little sooner, maybe after only three days.
The New Rec Room
We just moved into a new house that is much bigger than our old house. It has a lot more rooms so whereas our old house had a combination visiting-grandparent-room/play-room, we now have a dedicated rec room that should (we naively hope) keep our kids and their chaos contained.
The day after the movers brought our stuff over, my wife and I are busy unpacking box after box while our kids are busy making forts with them (boxes marked ‘fragile’ make the best forts, apparently). We finally get to the box of the kids Arts-n-Crafts stuff and my wife promptly takes it to the new rec room, opens it up, and tells the kids to play in the rec room and not come out.
A couple hours of getting-more-done-than-we-should-and-in-hindsight-should-have-checked-in-sooner, we see our youngest walking around the house with black Play-doh smeared all over his face, arms, and legs as if he gave himself a mud treatment. We follow the trail of black smears down the stairs, to the previously-white door of the rec room and walk inside.
My older two kids are sitting on the floor in a pile of construction paper that has been cut into tiny pieces. All the puzzle pieces from all the puzzles are in one giant pile on the floor. The carpet is covered with ground-in Play-doh. On their table are jars of paints, one of which is spilled on its side and the paint is covering most of the table. My oldest explains that she spilled the paint and she thought she’d let it dry so she could paint some more.
My wife is livid; I’m pretty mad myself. We quietly close the door and go back to unpacking because we don’t want to say/do something we’ll regret and our kids will tell their therapist when their older. At one point, I look up at my wife and offer up this explanation, “Babe, maybe they thought you said, ‘WRECK room’.”
Cleaning House
And on the sixth day came the great (house) cleansing. The young people were made to pick up every piece of toy and clothing and put it away, no matter whether it belonged to them or not. “Take care of your brother’s crap, as your father has taken care of yours,” said the father.
…and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Keeping the Christmas Spirit Alive
A lot of people say they wish the Christmas spirit could last the whole year through, but here at Team Sequeira, we’re actually doing something about it. We still haven’t taken down our Christmas Tree.
Who Wants Toys?
I’ve been teaching my kids a new game called, “Who wants toys?” The rules are simple and exciting. We walk into a room together and if they see a toy they really want, all they have to do it pick it up and put in in a toy box or a shelf. If they never want to see it again, all they have to do is leave it where it is and Daddy (aka “The Sweeper”) will get rid of it. The look in Daddy’s eye is telling them that this is a game they don’t want to lose…