Yes, I admit it, I stalled on the blogging thing. I accidentally was doing work related stuff during work hours instead of writing about diapers. So the week is over, wolves were kept at bay, and I thought I might sign off with some highlights from my week of single parenthood.
Fascism was definitely nice. George Bush was so right, unilateralism is the way to go. No diplomatic compromises with the hippie commie mommies. The patriarchy was in full effect, even if it did pander exclusively to a little girl. In fact, we basically did whatever Bee wanted to do. I experimented a lot this week, and for the most part it worked well.
I disproved the notion held primarily by her mother that Bee needs quiet chill time before bed. I went with the Dad school of thought that exhaustion puts kids to sleep, not quiet time. 6:00-7:50 run her up and down the slide at the park.8:00 play ‘can’t catch me’ and putt pj’s on. 8:10-8:30 group sing-a-long of ‘Old Macdonald’. 8:30 asleep.
Also, Bee is hydrophobic. And deeply paranoid about it as well. She is, in her head, living a real life X-files episode, if you were to substitute Big Foot for really fuzzy bath towels and Area-51 for the bathtub. She is convinced we are out to get her which, like most paranoid fantasies, is absolutely true. So when she saw all the water and soap and the Yeti Towels, all her fears were confirmed, and tears emerged.
But because it was a patriarchy this week, I vowed to stay the course, and make the tough decisions. We don’t negotiate with terrorists, er, I mean, toddlers. Rather than put her in the bathtub as conventional thinking dictates, I laid all the towels on the floor and put a bucket of water down. It was going to get wet, and I knew some things, like the extra rolls of toilet paper, weren’t going to make it. A ‘Mission Accomplished’ banner hung from the showerhead.
She loved it. We had a great time, I was soaked, the bathroom was soaked, and more importantly Bee was soaked and soaped. And fine with it. Twice. In one week.
Don’t mention this to child services, but that’s a new record.
And speaking of clean, it is now bludgeonly obvious that Mommies Make Messes, not babies and daddy’s. You don’t need to use a plate if you just eat on the lawn. Sandwiches, burgers and wraps are their own plates. It’s just common sense. No dishes = no washing = less environmental footprint / low economic impact.
But probably the most memerorable moment was when Bee and I picked Kgirl up from the airport. I scored some awesome parking karma and got a spot right in front of the parking entrance at Terminal one. We were waiting for awhile, which was largely due to my impatience to see her, so we left the house way too early. I called her twice a day while she was gone, because I missed her so much, even though my almost superhuman parenting skills make her largely redundant.When Kgirl finally came out, we were all smiles and hugs and Bee was overjoyed to have her mommy back and would spend the rest of the day clinging to her, as I tried to unsuccessfully remember exactly where I had parked the car. It was such a good parking spot I didn’t bother to look what floor or area it was in. It’s just that good of a spot.
So keep checking back for Kgirl’s triumphant return, when we eventually find our way out of the airport.