Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The MAN Cold, "Daddy" and more crap.

We just returned from a weekend in Kansas where we had a great visit with Brock's family. We took an exciting plane ride with two wide-eyed Things. We stayed with Brock's brother and his lovely wife on their 40 acre spread south of Kansas City, complete with a pond, a vineyard and tons of awesome "boy toys".Everyone got to witness Thing 2's undying love for "Daddy" and Thing 1 played hard all weekend. It was actually like "Camp Wagner" for Thing 1, yet he acted stoic about everything, like "this is just what I do. I ride camels and other exotic animals daily.". We "did" the KC Zoo (where he rode a camel), there were multiple go-kart rides, fishing was successful, there was an awesome tractor ride, mom and dad pedaled a boat while he steered and there were lots of awesome new toys, including but not limited to not one but TWO new guns that make load noises and were bestowed upon him by his grandmother right before going to the airport. I loved it, "Here's a few guns for you! Good luck in security!" Plus he didn't think that he required any naps during the trip. It was a four-year-old boy's dream weekend . But talk about overstimulating.....

After a smooth sailing weekend, we waited for four hours (over dinner time and bedtime)at KC Airport for our flight, which we discovered was delayed for three hours as soon as we passed through security and were locked in the confines of the gate area. Somehow (because of my fucking awesome Karma), both Things did really well and with minimal flailing, eventually slept on the airplane. Thing 2 naturally was sitting with Daddy, so he was content. Then Thing 1 woke up on the plane with a full blown MAN COLD. He is four, yet has somehow captured the drama and unnecessary whining of a 45 year old man afflicted with one of those flesh eating viruses,  the bird flu?, oh wait, I mean a head cold. O...M....G

This morning I was sitting in Eleanor, refreshed and completely revived after arriving home at midnight and being awoken at 6:15 by the melodious tune of "I'm DONE!!" coming from the bathroom. I was sipping my coffee and watching the news when all of a sudden he appeared at my side- standing very still in a sullen and eerie Children of the Corn-like manner, while breathing through his mouth and snorting phlegm. I showed him where the tissues were and instructed him on blowing methods but he became a limp, whimpering rag doll and couldn't manage that tricky tissue. Weird how he could navigate the awesome go-kart down hills and around trees and over a pond dam at his uncle's house, yet the workings of a Kleenex were far too complex. *moan* Then he asked for his new toy guns and I told him that he could have them when he learned to use the tissue. Then Brock gave him the exact same tutorial that I had just moments before and Thing 1 announced, "I can blow my nose now! Daddy showed me!" and I wondered how far I would have to ram the fork into my leg before I hit bone.

Then Thing 2 woke up and softly cried out, "Daddy!" like he always does, because Daddy apparently possesses magical powers, like a unicorn... or Oprah.

So Thing 1 breathed on me and sniffed his snot and I held the tissue so he could empty his nasal cavity onto my hand. Then I gave him the tissue to throw away and he held it with the very tips of his fingers in a disgusted manner as he shuffled over to the trash can- still gasping for air through his mouth with his shoulders slumped like his muscles have all turned to jelly, yet moments later in the day he found the strength to not only whack Thing 2 int he head with his new toy gun twice (both guns have been confiscated), but also to whack his best friend, who happens to be an adorable little girl, in the head with a stick ,with his baby brother whispering "Daddy. Daddy. Daddy." in the background. Then Thing 1 informed me that Thing 2 "doesn't like you, he only likes Daddy", while everyone was eating the third meal of the that I prepared for them in between the four loads of laundry that I washed, dried, folded and put away. This day was fucking magical. Let it end now before I attempt to sell one or both of my spawn offspring on Craigslist.




  1. Honey, trust me when I tell you that in the long run, it is the mommies who hold those heart strings. Always. They behave their absolute worst for the one person in the world that they trust the most to love them regardless of their behavior. It's horrid, but true. And you are very courageous not to have killed someone...

  2. Been there.

    Hopefully you won't soon be afflicted with the same phlegm and mucus spew and still be required to cook those three squares.

    Hats off to you, Mom.

  3. This is about the time I would tell Husband, "I don't want to be the Mommy anymore." And then Husband would sit in his chair and order The Boy to do the dishes or walk the dogs, except I like walking the dogs and I can't find anything if The Boy does the dishes. So it's a loose-loose situation.

    I hope Thing 1 Feels better, soon.

  4. Bubba has always been a Daddy's Boy ... it has its perks ... I get lots of ME time now that Bubba is movie, football game, hockey game, baseball game and Madden Football on Wii age!!!

  5. Oh boy, does this resonate loud and clear!! It always amazes me how the boys are so enamored with Daddy, when I'm the one who ensures their every need is met. Except for, like, wrestling, which I guess is the most important need, which makes the ten thousand things I do pretty much obsolete. Grr ...

  6. Both my boys went through their "I only love DADDY" phases, and although I knew they were temporary, it still broke my heart every time I would try to take my little on up to bed and he would scream and cry and act like I was taking him to the guillotine and not to bed, all whilst whimpering for his "DADDY!!!" Hated it, but refused to let him always have his way, or have my husband always have to do everything. Yeah, I'm not sure what I was thinking. I should have been like, "you want Daddy? There he is. Go gettum. Now, where did I put that wine?"

    It bothered me the most with my oldest because it was new and I wasn't sure what was happening. He got past it though. As will yours. But enjoy a couple glasses of wine and alone time while it happens and hand them off to their precious daddy is my advice!

  7. Fortunately both of my short people have realized that their father is a raging douchecanoe so it's all about me, which is (as you know) how I feel everyone should think. Hang in there, mama.

  8. This is SO my house, complete with the Daddy worship. WHere's the love, I ask you!

  9. Caitlyn has been saying daddy since she was like 9 months old and now, at 17 months she STILL won't say mommy. She did decide to call me "mom" though, because who the fuck does she think she is?

    But when she gets sick, she's damn tough about it. And then I have to dread the day that my husband catches her cold because he's such a little bitch boy about it.

  10. As soon as i come home from work I feed my cats and give them a treat and tell them "mommy loves you more than daddy does" but it hasn't worked yet. The brown cat ignores me and climbs on my husband for snuggles like he is freaking made of tuna fish.

    So not totally related but I feel your pain.

  11. I just read your last two blogs to Shane and he is laughing like a little girl:) I am stalking you tonight via your blog since you are not taking my calls:P

  12. Yeah, I hate the "Daddy!" shit, too. Phrases often heard at my house, "Whaaaa! I want to ride with DADDY!" or "I want DADDY to take us to school!" and my favorite "I want DADDY to read us a bedtime story!!!" So, I give kisses, then go enjoy my Pinot Grigio by the fire with a good book while DADDY reads "The Hippo-NOT-Amus" for the 85th time. Thing 1 and Thing 2 will change their tune, as change is the *only* constant in child-rearing. Oh,and wanting to strangle your young. Hang tough, my sister!