Warning: PRATTLE PRATTLE PRATTLE PRATTLE

Sunday night.

Today wasn’t so great.

***

I mean, it wasn’t a total shipwreck, but… this was one of those days where it felt like we did nothing but bark at the kids. Every button they could push, every boundary, every opportunity to ask a question 500 times when the answer was no the first time. It wasn’t just Laura either.

The approach of THEBOY's birthday and Christmas have sent this kid into full-blown gift obsession. Buy me buy me buy me. Holy Ronald McDonald can this kid bug us for STUFF. The Little Attorney, as he is sometimes known, was spinning a new angle today: Buy me this for my birthday, and because I won’t KNOW which wrapped gift it is, it’ll still be a surprise.

I thought I was doing him a favor by indulging him, hitting the toy aisle before groceries for some looking around. So much of the time we hurry through or past the toys.

But today I gave him a good 20 minutes to poke around. And this was AFTER telling him as we entered the store that we would NOT be buying a toy today.

I pried him out of there, started shopping for groceries, and you know, I became distracted. I mean, I was checking my mental list, comparing prices, all that. Then I realized I’d been fending off CONTINUOUS “buy me” requests for about 20 minutes and had to resort to DEEP DADDY VOICE: If you don’t knock it off I will sell you to the gypsies, kid. I’ll sell you to gypsies who feed little boys to their starving pack of man-eating alligators. No, that’s BOY-eating alligators… he’d catch that little discrepancy, the Little Attorney would…

***

And I’d already had it up to my eyeballs with THEGIRL. Hoo boy. Got pissy at the Italian joint over lunch. I think she voiced her displeasure at something by throwing some bread. Boom, g’bye bread. Sippie cup too, if I recall, so THAT got taken away.

She put both hands on the table and just SWEPT the food in my direction. This was a 22-month-old child doing her level best to knock $30 worth of pasta into my lap.

I considered checking in the kitchen to see if any of those guys were gypsies, but instead just went into DADDY DEFCON FIVE. Remove the child, take her outside and make the point very clearly. I was angry, but I’m not one to fly off and act in a rage.

But the message was delivered. THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE. This throwing trick has gone on too long. I’m going into zero tolerance mode on this. You throw it, it’s gone, period. I don’t care if it’s your lunch, your pants, the cat, whatever. You throw it and your association with this thing is done.

There’s always the chance, of course, that she’s throwing something she doesn’t give a hoot about. No worries: DADDY DEFCON FIVE will be implemented quickly and consistently. Little girl, it is time for you to retire this particular behavior. It’s going to prove to be nothing but a problem for you. I have much more experience with angry toddlers than you do with displeased daddies.

***

And you know… for every bit of rage in that child, for every glare that’s as obscene as any gesture she does not yet know how to make, she’s even sweeter. I kid you not. You want to see a cuddly kid, a kid content to treat her stuffed animals like her babies, who hands out kisses, and loves to pretend she’s putting her family members to bed?

When I tuck her into bed at night, after everyone’s gone I stand there and stroke her cheeks. She doesn’t move. If I start to pull away, she beckons me back soundlessly, with one outstretched hand. More stroking. Just the light touch is what she wants, even though I’m worried that my rough knuckles feel scratchy.

Eventually I have to go, and she gives a sad little cry.

***

There’s this level of vigilance one has to sustain while rearing kids that’s just exhausting. I don’t think I’ll be able to complete a thought or a sentence in the presence of one of my kids for 15 more years. The brain is always in two places, and it’s a heck of a way to get anything done. Each line in a newspaper I get to read is like a little gold nugget. “One… second… kid… I just know Dilbert’s gonna be funny today!”

And as much development as I’ve studied this year, I think there’s stuff we simply will never get clear answers for.

Check this out: As toddlers, both of my kids, when I’m sitting on the floor against the couch, have liked to leap off the couch over me and laugh as I lunge to catch them.

Furthermore, each child did this on his/her own, and I only discovered this little game when seizing this child from mid-air the first time. To them it’s a game; I’m going on pure instinct.

Now… how does one explain that each child liked to do this as a toddler? THEBOY no longer does it. He has not modeled this behavior for his sister.

Not nurture… so, nature? I don’t know that anyone’s likely to buy the explanation that there’s some sort of DNA-based wizardry compelling these kids to make death-defying leaps over my shoulders.

***

Boy, I’m really prattling on tonight…

***

Band rocking my world at the moment: The Atomic Bitchwax.

***

Message to, well, any band on the planet. You’re in, most likely, a digital studio cuttin’ tunes. You’re recording to hard disk perhaps, editing digitally, all that.

ADDING CRACKLING ALBUM NOISES TO THE OPEN AND/OR CLOSE OF A SONG IS REALLY FREAKIN’ ANNOYING.

It kinda makes me want to claw my eyes out.

***

Intervention tonight was pretty gripping. Well, as gripping as it could be as I watched it while finishing up my appraisal/assessment project. There was Andy, the once-modestly successful actor/voiceover talent, and Michael the “rageaholic.” I hadn’t encountered the latter in my studies or experience before. Apparently there is something addictive about the brain chemicals released in a fit of rage. Michael smoked crack to calm down, but of course, when he needed to score he was violent.

In fact, we got to see him pick fights with his father, fights his father clearly wasn’t into. When push came to shove (and it did, literally), his pop told Michael he’d better take off, because he was about to get whooped. This was AFTER Michael had verbally abused him, thrown a beer at him and taken a swing at him, all on camera. His father didn’t seem to be violent at all, though that may be hard to believe considering that we got to see the guy stand up to Michael.

Andy was a pretty straightforward smack addict. Hustling his family for money, being a real jerk to them, all that.

The interventions were tense, but especially with Michael.

But they both went well, as the guys agreed to go into treatment immediately.

I believe Michael lasted three-ish weeks before being kicked out for threatening other patients.

Andy has been clean since July.

***

I need to hit the sheets. Ya’ll be good, have a good week. And let me know if you see any gypsies around.