Father's Day was a dandy

"So you had a bad day..."

Have you ever had one of those days when, from the get-go, it goes down-hill? I went to work on friday and just got off to a bad start. Let's just say that one of my co-workers needed an attitude adjustment. And instead of letting his 'tude just "walk on by", I let it stomp on my head. I got sucked into it... and became "attitudy" myself. The 8 hour day then became a marathon of events: lots of negative grumblings, eye rolls and stink eyes. And then, what's worse... I complained and talked behind his back to another co-worker.

I know. I know. 5th grade? No... 3rd grade.  

But that's what happened.

The good thing was that the co-worker I complained to... didn't get sucked up into the attitude. She stayed on top of it. She was kind. She didn't join in on the bashing.  But she didn't make me feel like a complete moron either. And that's when, in the light of her kindness, the attitude in me was brought to the light, and then it was burnt up.

And then, I felt cruddy about it. I had failed. Darnit.

After work I was happy to come home and see my parents, my boys and my husband. They were working on building the deck. Well... the boys were playing in the dirt. Around dinner time, Braveheart started to have a breakdown. He kept nagging at my parents to pick him up. Tenderheart joined in on the chaos. It escalated. And, at the wrong time... with the wrong words... I told my parents to "not pick him up". And then I went on about other things not to do. When it's just my husband and I... I can say those things to him... and he to me... because we have learned that we aren't trying to blame the other... we are trying to learn from the situation. But it took a year to get to that point. In the beginning... it felt like blame... but now... through many such situations... we have learned "how" to say it to eachother.

But on friday night... all my learning and "know-how" went out the window. I said it in the wrong way... at the wrong time... to the wrong people. And I made my mother cry.

I know. I know. I know. Failure #2.

It get's better right? Nope.

So, 9:00pm rolls around... the night was still young... and romance was still a possibility. And I swear I must have had a negative/junky/cruddyness magnet stuck to me foreheard... for the night ended with our backs turned to one another and a bunch of insults. Failure #3.

I woke up the next morning... early early ... and went to work at the coffee shop again. And there was a pit in my stomache all day. I wanted to go back home. Make things right. Say, "I'm sorry". Hug my Mom again. Smile at that co-worker that had so ticked me off. And what transpired that day was a healthy dose of humility. And I felt like the air had came back into my lungs. And that magnet I had on must have fell off.

You know... it's good sometimes to fail. To really screw it up. For when you feel like you are on top... you are very alone. But, in that moment of turning... when you realize you aren't so hot... you feel thankful for the grand company of people, no, angels... that you have in your lives. 

The Beach: Take 3

TAKE 1: A few weeks ago... it hit 70 degrees here in New England... and that my friends... is an EVENT. So, you do what most New Englanders do when it's like that... you go to the beach. My husband was fixing our vehicle... again. So it was just Mommy and the boys. It was a miraculous day. We met friends. We played until we were pooped. The sun was shining. The wind was nil. But the only thing was... Daddy wasn't there with us. 

So the next day, it was rumored to be "as nice". And Daddy was finished fixing the car. As soon as he was home from work we loaded the kiddos into the vehicle and headed for the beach. We wanted Daddy to enjoy it with us this time. And the day before was just incredible. So... obviously... this was going to be just as incredible. Even more so. Daddy was going to be with us. 

TAKE 2:

Do you see the gust of wind take the sand across the beach? Well... we ate it. I mean we ATE IT. Daddy went to throw away our dinner that we brought to eat on the beach. It was good... even with the added crunch. And while he went to find a trash can (hard to find in off season)... Braveheart took off. Down towards the water. I left Tenderheart in the sand to rescue Braveheart. Tenderheart was then caught in a sand hurricane. I stopped following Braveheart and went to rescue Tenderheart. I scooped up Tenderheart while he was spitting out sand and ran for Braveheart. By now... Braveheart had reached the water. I was yelling "stop!" and cursing Daddy for looking for a dumb, stupid trash can. Braveheart reached the freezing cold New England ocean water and decided to take a swim. "Son of a Nutcracker!" The "beach adventure" ended with Mommy and Daddy giving each other the "stink eye" holding our two crying, sandy, wet, and cold children. 

TAKE 3: 

Yesterday it was again "rumored" to be a dandy. We put the kids down early for a nap so we could take them to the beach when they woke. Yet, as we were nearing the beach... we were looking for the sun. Nowhere to be found. Though, Mr. Wind was found. Sand in teeth was found. But you know what? Joy was found too. 

And we were with Daddy. 

 And of coarse we had to end the day with a Coffee Shop stop to enjoy a hot chocolate.

Favorite Daddy-isms

So, we have had our little ones home now for a little over 1 year. And in that year... I catch myself smiling from the core of my gut at certain "Daddy" sayings or doings. These are things I have overheard or been able to witness. And here they are:

1. Daddy washing boys in the tub: "Hey... turn around so I can wash your noodle and your cakes." 

2. Daddy is putting the kid's PJ's on. Little Tenderheart has a pretty good sized birthmark on his left leg. Daddy pulls up his own pant leg to show Tenderheart that he also has a birthmark. They smile. MATCHING birthmarks. Little Braveheart looks disappointed. Where is HIS birthmark that matches Daddy's? They search for one. Disappointment. Fast forward to next day. Kids in the Tub. Daddy is washing them. Daddy exclaims, "Braveheart! Look! We've got matching dots!" They found one. And Braveheart almost hit the moon. 

3. Mom is making breakfast. Dad is changing one of the boys. Dad yells out to mom... "You know your life has changed drastically when you go to wipe poop off your baby's butt and while you pass by a package of chocolate chip cookies on the counter... you pop one in your mouth. Chewing cookies and changing poopie diapers at the same time. 6am.What has my life become?" 

4. Daddy kept one of his electric powered cars from when he was a kid. And now, he races it around while the kids try to get it. This is incredible entertainment for both parties: kids and Daddy. I haven't seen Daddy get this competitive in a while. And every now and then, I hear Daddy exclaim, "Did you see that?? He just split the D!! Ladies and gentlemen... he just split the D!!" 

The Baby Whisperer

A couple months after we brought the boys home... we decided to try to let them "cry it out" at night. They were crying just because they wanted to be with us... and we said, "let's do this sleep training thing." With Braveheart, (the first we brought home)... he cried for a few nights and then owned it. Sleeping through the night like a teenager (well... almost). VERY few nights does he get up and cry... and usually... there is a reason (and of coarse we go to him). 

But Tenderheart was another story. Tenderheart is our little Asthmatic one, with Acid reflux... with other complications (a suspected whole in the esophagus... which leads to aspiration). So, with our little Tenderheart... we don't let him cry. Too much crying just isn't good for our little one. So, off and on... my husband and I get up in the night with little Tenderheart. For a while... I was the one getting up. However, my husband soon took the role of the "Bread winner" by day and the "Dad who gets up" by night, also. Bless his little soul. 

And then, we discovered something. When I would go in to their room at night... Tenderheart would especially enjoy his "snuggling" with Mommy. I would sooth him, snuggle him, lull him. And holding him lasted at least 15 minutes. When Daddy goes in to the bedroom... Daddy means business. He picks up Tenderheart, loves him, holds him, calms him... and then quickly puts him back to sleep and says, "ni-night".

So one night, Tenderheart cried. Daddy got up. Daddy opened the door... Tenderheart sat up. Saw that it was Daddy (and not Mommy) and laid back down. And fell asleep.

So we call Daddy the "Baby Whisperer". And we call Mommy "the one who has a sweet set up."