Something Positive

My wife sometimes accuses me of having a negative view of our children.

Actually what she says is, “You don’t like them very much do you?”, but you know, whatever, same thing. And It probably doesn’t help that I usually answer with a shrug and a “Meh…”.

But I decided after my last post that I wouldn’t post again until I had something positive to say about my children.

That was a month ago.

So, because I really feel that it’s been too long since my last post and it’s the time of year we Americans are supposed to think about the things we’re thankful for I decided to force it so I can get back to writing.

Ok, here I go:

  • My oldest is very, very smart, very funny, incredibly kind, empathetic and only cries two or three times a day over stupid shit.
  • Demon Spawn, the middle child, is also very smart and funny, he is well behaved in school and anywhere his mother and I are not, and he doesn’t smell anywhere near as bad as he used to.
  • The baby… Well… He’s awfully cute I guess…
  • Also they brought a level of joy to my I didn’t know was possible, they light up my otherwise cynical, dark soul, they make my life worth living , I love them more than I thought I could ever love anything and even the thought of being without them is completely unbearable.

So there you go. Happy Thanksgiving.

Mice, Knives and Pain

My last post was all about how boring things have been around here. That post was a mistake. Not the information in that post. That was true. It was starting to get boring, but having the hubris to put how boring things have gotten in print? That was a mistake.

The what I now view as normalcy started almost immediately after hitting the publish button on that last post with the mouse incident:

It’s starting to get cold outside, we live in an old house and sometimes field mice get in to escape the elements, usually just to be toyed with and then brutally murdered by our cat, Swirly Rainbowtron Catinator. Yes that’s her actual name. Sometimes Swirly falls a little short on the murder part and leaves these stunned mice on the kitchen floor. This how early one morning while getting the older boys ready for school I hear, “Daddy! The baby is making a mouse swim!”

… “What?”

“He has a mouse! And a glass of water! And he’s putting them together! Mouses don’t seem to swim good Daddy!”

“Mice, buddy. Mice don’t seem to swim well…”

Then there was the incident where I heard Demon Spawn screaming for me to come and help him and I came in to find that the baby had cornered him on the couch by repeatedly thrusting a steak knife (a steak knife I had never seen before and am convinced that the baby lifted from a restaurant and had been hiding on his person prison style) at him and giggling insanely.

Also the baby, who weighs more than the four year old, has decided cuddling involves headbutts to face.

So things have gotten back to normal around here.

I guess that teaches me to complain about being bored.

 

Why Won’t They Do Anything Funny?

I think we’re in a rut.

Nothing exciting is happening.

The house is staying clean.

Demon Spawn has mellowed.

The oldest goes to school, comes home, does his homework, plays his nonviolent/age appropriate video games and goes to bed.

The baby still gets into everything he can but other than an incident involving him drinking hand sanitizer and immediately throwing up everywhere nothing really new or exciting has been happening on that front.

I’m still at home.

My wife is still working.

Maybe I should look at it in a more positive light and say we’ve finally got a good routine down, but when you’re looking for funny things to post about it really feels like less of a positive thing.

Maybe I should start making shit up…

6 Awful Things I Do (or have done) To My Children

  1. Any time I’m in the car with them and they start talking to me, I slowly turn up the radio until I can’t hear them and shout “WHAT?!? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! THE RADIO IS UP TOO LOUD! WAIT, I’LL TURN IT DOWN!”. I then turn it down, wait for them to start talking and slowly begin to turn it up again.
  2. I put hot sauce on most of my food just to keep them from asking for bites.
  3. I tell them that the baddest of the “bad words” is the X-word. I also tell them anytime we pass a person pulled over by the police that the person the cop is talking to probably got caught saying the X-word and will most likely be going to jail for it.
  4. When I see them in a situation where they’ll most likely get hurt, I judge how bad the accident will be and if it doesn’t seem like it’ll be too bad I just sit back and see how it goes.
  5. Anytime I hear “Where’s Mama?” I tell them that she left for Hawaii (or some other far off location) and I that can’t believe that she forgot to say anything about it.
  6. I sometimes explain the most mundane of natural phenomenons in the most terrifyingly Lovecraftian way I can come up with at the moment, wait for the horror to really sink in and then tell them the truth.

At Least I Feel Better

I have to admit that lately the stress being caused by the baby’s new stage has started to get to me.

I’ve been angry.

I’ve been sullen.

I’ve been bitter.

I’ve started to act anxious  and paranoid.

Truth be told I’ve even been wondering if this whole having children thing is worth it.

Now on top of all this, these feeling have the audacity to make me feel guilty for feeling them.

Then, this morning, I ran across the movie There Will Be Blood on Netflix. I’d been meaning to watch it because it’s supposed to be a pretty good flick and I wanted to know for awhile now why so many of my friends threaten to drink my milkshake.

So I watched it.

If you haven’t seen it or know nothing about it, it is not, IS NOT, a feel good movie. But it made me feel better. It made me feel better because no matter how bitter, angry, paranoid and sullen I get, at least least I’ll never be as bad as the asshole that movie is about.

I mean… Just… That fucking guy. Wow.