Danny Thomas of The Next Family has bad days, when it seems like nothing else can go wrong…until it does.
oh you know…
it’s like this…
here is the path i took to sitting down to write this blog
moved the kindergartener from our bed to hers
checked on the suffering of the insufferable 8 year old
and flopped down next to my wife…
who was more exhausted than me
having spent the weekend casting
Much Ado About Nothing…
in addition to the usual stuff…
to explain..
and justify my bedtime actions:
sticking to my guns,
being hardline,
so that i dont get pushed
to the point of
losing my temper.
letting the child
get emotional
and remaining
in control of my own…
because
when
my temper gets the better of me
a pretty crummy parent
and
a pretty crummy human being.
i looked up..
knowing that she knew all this,
but wanting affirmation,
of my actions…
sympathy,
acknowledgement…
or even a reprove.
she was snoring…
notes from the week
playlists etc
writing supplies…(the computer)
went to the cupboard to find
the tylenol pm…
sometimes i go for the stress relief tea…
but sometimes i need a guarantee…
and there was a lot of stuff knocking around in there,
likely to keep me awake.
my hand hit something sticky… something gooey and grapey.
childrens tylenol had leaked, spilled, upended…
slathering the entire basket with a viscous purplish, graying syrup.
and write for an hour until the painkillers kicked in and took me to dozy, drowsy land
and instead what did i have before me but a goddamn
project.
misunderstandings and crossed wires.
a last minute wrench just fucks the whole situation even further.
or just a function of being too busy
hurried, harried, hassled…
but
the best example, other than the medicine basket,
is the leotard fiasco…
Wednesdays ‘Zilla has ballet at 6:10.
and Lil’ Chaos has piano at 6:15.
Somedays Jen is not busy,
and we split this up.
Otherdays i attempt to defeat the laws of physics
to be in both places on time.
I don’t know how we thought this schedule was possible…
i think we didn’t realize how often Jen was going to need to be somewhere or doing something.
but more often than not, they get some apple sauce and/or a granola bar on the way,
and a sandwich or a bowl of soup before bed when we get home.
misunderstanding each other about dinner plans with a friend/colleague visiting from out of
town, and not communicating very well about it.
As a result,
I waited until the last minute to pick Zuzu up from daycare… and neglected to feed the children –
though there was – as per our meal plan – roasted chicken and sweet potatoes available to them…
The day care is only a few blocks away…
Much of the year – if we wait until 5:19 to leave the house – no sweat.
If we wait ’till 5:19 this time of year – we are pushing our luck.
these things take time to locate and apply…
but are necessary even for a car ride when windchill is pushing the temp to 20 below.
But in a stroke of inspriation I had everyone grab lesson supplies
‘Zilla had checked her dance bag for appropriate contents and it was slung over her shoulder
Li’l Chaos had her piano books…
I grabbed granola bars…
we’d be fine.
early enough to change ‘Zilla there…
We’d haIve some time to relax – a few minutes at least.
And then we’d load up, leaving ‘Zilla in class,
to take Li’l Chaos to piano…
Allowing her a good 5-8 minute protest about sitting in the car seat.
when, at the dance studio changing room, ‘Zilla looked in her ballet bag and discovered it was
lacking a leotard or tights…
“What!?-Didn’t you look? I Thought you looked!”
of course Zuzu was compelled to stage another protest…
my metaphorical tanks mowed her down
the car seat was Tiananmen Square,
I was riot police… with tear gas.
no time… sorry Zuzu.
re-enforcements with the terrorist uprising in the toddler seat behind me, i frantically attempted
to call my wife…
for her department. Needless to say, my frantic pleas were not what she was most in the mood to
hear and thus was not as receptive as I had hoped she’d be to my preternatural howling through
the phone…
I heard her take a breath and say, “I will find a leotard and tights for you.”
We had to cut the conversation off – the light changed – it was probly for the best.
But I needed more…
more
happening – i needed her to jump in and help…
and the purplegraysticky mess
all week
maybe my whole life…
of this little bump
in the sidewalk…
it’s about halfway
to Zuzu’s daycare
I have been trying to figure out the
right context
to write about it
and thinking about it a lot.
She was pretty new at walking…
Relatively…
And that bump was a big deal
It caught her off guard
more than once.
Jumped out
and pulled her to the hard pavement
like a troll under a bridge.
On the days she did see it…
She would walk to it
check to see if it was still there
and stand on the fucker.
And pretty soon
she saw it more often than she tripped over it.
And so
most days,
had a reason to celebrate,
a little reason,
on the three block walk to school.
Pretty soon after that
she didn’t even notice it anymore.
I guess forgetting about it
is another form of conquering it
altogether.
And so,
I guess the lesson to learn
from my toddler
is that, as trite as it may sound,
life really is full of bumps in the road
both literal and figurative.
And you will conquer them…
and then forget they were ever there.
They won’t even bother you anymore.
You may take your accomplishments for granted as you move on to new challenges,
but be sure to take a little time to celebrate the things you do right as you go.