07 April 2012

Holy(fuckingshit) Saturday

Yeah, that about summarizes my Easter-eve.  I warned you, dear readers, with my security settings and my first "post", that this forum would be, at times, totally uncensored.  I am warning you again, right now, that this post may not be pleasant to read.  Continue at your own risk, and please do not judge (or if you must judge in written format, prepare yourself for a rebuttal...)...

I am not going to sugar-coat it - the girls were a total tornado of feces today.  It started at the ass-crack of dawn:

Paige has an alarm clock, which we set for 7:30 on the weekends, that tells her when it is OK to come bother Mommy and Daddy.  It is not a "you can't get out of bed before this goes off" timer.  She's allowed to get up, read books, do puzzles, go downstairs or whatever before it goes off.  She is NOT allowed to bother her sleeping sister or her parents, until 7:30.  Well, she broke that rule this morning.  My day started with a (hollow) threat to my almost 5-year old about not getting to color her Easter eggs if she didn't march her little ass out of my room that very moment.  She obliged, but it was really too late.  The wife and I were up...and so was Taryn.

Taryn.  If you look that name/word up in the OED, you get something like this:

Taryn (n): 1. A grassy knoll (gaelic).  2.  A cute little tow-headed 2.5-year old.  3.  The second gunman personified.

Out of the gate this morning, she was only in need of an iron cauldron in which to ferment her potions.  Would not let her sister or me anywhere near her.  Stayed in her room, serially screaming and shutting the door until Mommy would come get her.  Whatever, this isn't a terribly unique occurrence...but it was the 1st rung on the ladder leading to the Boatman on the river Styx.

I have not the patience to sit here tonight and really go into the minutae of things, so I'll abridge in bullet point format.

*Paige throws fit because she does not like the tights that my wife says she supposed to wear.

*Paige does not nap.

*Taryn does not nap.

*They both really fucking needed a nap.

*Taryn runs through back yard with gardening fork, pointed up at her body, despite her mother AND her father screaming for her to stop, and very nearly causes a 911 call.

*Taryn screams in anger as Daddy holds her on the ground, prys the fork away, and tells her that we were NOT mad at her but that we REALLY need her to listen to us when we tell her something.

*We tried, as a family, to civilly recover and color 36 hard-boiled eggs.

*This did NOT go well, at all.

*PAAS "markers" are really just re-packaged failed Iranian nuclear warheads.  Non-ridgid tips on markers that are so beyond permanent that it isn't funny (seriously, did YOU know that shaving cream will remove permanent marker from your skin?  Well, for permanent markers, it will, but these little terrorist devices?  Fat fucking chance.).

*Broken eggs.  Not one, not two, but several.

*Screaming.  Taryn, Paige, Mommy and Daddy all.

*More fucking screaming.

*A stint on the stairs (Taryn).

*A stint in the room (Taryn).

*A stint in the basement (Daddy).

*A banishment from all things Easter egg (Taryn).

*A 15th fucking chance (Taryn).

*Eggs done.  Halle-fucking-luja.

*Paige is running a fever.

*At least her malfeasance is forgivable...somewhat.




*Paige will not change into her PJs.

*Taryn will not brush her teeth (in fact, she inserts her fist into her mouth so that Mommy can not brush her teeth for her).

*Taryn repeats the process from above after being told "No teeth brushing = No Easter Bunny"

*Taryn will not lie down.

*Paige crawls into bed and passes out (Praise Jeebus).

*Taryn believes Mommy's threat and is adamant about brushing her teeth before capitulating and passing out herself (Can I get an AMEN?  Or at least a fifth of bourbon?)

*I sit down to write this wandering diatribe.

*I stop writing the wandering diatribe, in the hopes that writing it has purged the venom from my blood and that I will greet my kids with a hug and a smile in the morning...and so that when these kids call me in 30 years to complain about what rotten little shits their kids were that day, I can point them in the direction of MY nightmare, from which I still, even now as I sit here, do not want to be roused from...

I love you both, beyond measure, Paige Elara and Taryn Aoibh...I just wish today had been easier...

Doctor Daddy.


  1. Wow, just reading that exhausted me. So much for thinking it gets any easier when they get older (than mine are now). Kind of glad we're having little to nothing to do with Easter this year -- had enough fun with Passover Seder and staying over the grandparents' house... It's aggravating that kids misbehave more when adults are stressed because that just leads to more stress and more misbehavior. What the heck was T doing with a garden fork? Eeks.

    FWIW, you're an awesome father. Happy Easter!

  2. PHEW!!! May all of your succeeding Holy Saturdays be much better than that! Indeed - the more the kids anticipate something great - often the more they get hyped up and all hell breaks loose. Luckily you have learned to step away - and I bet this morning was great. Kids - the Nightmare you don't want to wake up from. I still love all of mine.