Monday, November 14, 2005

You be Briscoe, I'll be Logan

God help me, I have just done the unthinkable -- I pulled the ole' "I'm Gonna Tell Your Father" card. As a former teacher, I am more than aware that anytime you have to revert to sending a child to a higher authority (in this case, Shawn -- but only according to Ryan, and in a minute, you'll see why), you have thus shown said child your breaking point, your weakness, your Achilles Heel, as it were. I have just succumbed to the pressure, and let my child know that I cannot handle her anymore, and so must depend on Daddy. But you know what? It worked. Ryan has gone scrambling back to her bed and I am left in peace.

The clock says 7:43pm, but I could swear that it's really 6:00 am tomorrow morning. That's how drained I am feeling at the moment, so you'll have to excuse the lapses in judgment as I plod through this post. Why even bother? Well, I realize that some of you enjoy this blog as much as I enjoy seeing grown men get hit in the Johnson, and I just can't bring myself to let you down. Therefore, I shall type till I can't type no more (lucky you!!).

This morning was great -- birds chirping, sun shining, breeze breezing... Had things movin' and shakin' at just the right speed, got some housework done and the kids fed, dressed, and even napped (Jax), all while managing to let Shawn catch a couple extra hours of sleep. Then we all piled into the car and headed for a short visit to the park, and then on to the gym where the kids got to play and be spoiled and Shawn and I got to sweat and exert ourselves just enough to justify all the yummy foods we have eaten lately (Olive Garden yesterday, Cheese and Bacon Souffle this morning, and Pumpkin Crisp this evening). We piled into the car once again and headed for the field trip of all field trips -- the new HEB PLUS here in Round Rock. That's right, folks, we dun went and got ourselves one uh them thar big stores, and man is it a doozie!! I was so excited, I just had to phone Mom. Furniture, home decor, produce, groceries, clothes, books, electronics, SCRAPBOOKING, a cafe' (with accent mark, thank you), and much much more. Great Find: Geraldine's Gourmet Snappy Spice Gingerbread Bites. Like buttah, they're so good.

Annnnyyyywaayyy, we finally get home and have lunch (I even lassoed Shawn into making me a BLT!), and I tell Ryan that since she had finished her lunch, she can play outside while I am vaccuuming, and then it's in for naptime. Shawn has Jax on the couch, and I am so excited about actually getting housework done without having to sacrifice some other coveted daily routine (namely, nap). Little do I know that while I am vacuuming my little heart out, Shawn is just layin' on the couch holding Jax, while Ryan feels compelled to pour volumes of water all over the kitchen table and floor. No known reason as of yet, it just came to a calling. So I finish my chore, enter the kitchen to gather Jax for his nap, and am met by a tsunami. Boy was I pissed! Shawn felt the rage -- "What were you doing this whole time?" "Did you not see what she was doing?" His Excuse: What? I was watching the boy. **"watching the boy" consisted of him snoozing on the couch (2 feet away from kitchen table where flooding occurred) with Jax on his stomach** Me: "Why is it whenever you're home I end having twice as much work to do?" Him: "I don't know, but you'd think you'd be used to it by now." Seriously. Flames on the side of my face.

As I'm on hands and knees mopping up the mess, I begin to direct my anger towards Ryan, who obviously knows she has done something wrong by the way she is standing in the corner covering her butt. We go through the whole "why?"/" I don't know" cycle, and I calmly whisper for her to come dry her feet off and go upstairs for naptime (I've learned that when I calmly whisper, she REALLY knows Mommy means what she says). As I'm drying her feet off, I notice that she has sand on them. This is not good. I loathe and despise sandboxes. I've been begging my husband for 2 yrs to please build a deck over the existing menace, and he has yet to undertake this not-that-big-in-my-eyes job. Why haven't I just done it? Well, I was pregnant this past year, you twit, commuting to San Marcos the year before that, and now I'm home alone all day with an infant and a 3 yr old. You do the math. *Deep Breath* I digress.

Ryan knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that the sandbox is completely forbidden. It was here when we moved in, it is a breeding ground for cat-feces-dwelling bacteria, and it is 100% destructive to our wood floors. So there is no reason why she should have been in the sandbox. (unless of course, you count the fact that she is a 3 yr old, which I have chosen not to). When asked whether or not she was in the sand box, she meekly averts her eyes and shakes her head "no". Haha, my dear. I didn't fall off the watermelon truck yesterday. She has yet to learn that her mother is the Queen of the Little White Lie (chalk it up to my acting experience -- not my morals,please!), and can call a fib from a mile away. Her father, however...not so much. As soon as I begin reaching for my spotlight to get all set up in my Law and Order mode, Shawn cuts in and says, "Amy, she says she didn't do it, and I saw her playing in the rocks earlier, so that's probably where it came from." Ohhhh, he wants to the be the Good Cop, does he?? Of course he does. Okay. I let him have that one. I stop my argument, take Ry upstairs, and leave Shawn to feel glorious in his fair parenting tactics.

Cut to this evening when, as I'm making dinner, Ryan comes streaking through the kitchen and up the stairs to her room without a word. Shawn enters shortly after her, and when I ask what's wrong with Ryan, he tells me he has just sent her to her room.

"Why?", I ask.

"For lying," he mumbles. "You were right earlier. I just caught her in the sandbox, and when I asked her about it, she lied and tried to use the 'playing in the rocks' excuse, so I sent her to her room."

mmmhmmmm.. That's what I thought happened.... It's not his fault, really. He's too innocent to understand the wicked workings of our 3 yr old's mind. But me on the otherhand? I'm just naughty enough. Hey -- who's complaining? He ended up having to be the "Bad Cop" by sending to her room and taking her new Mulan doll away (oh yes he did!), and I get to use him as a threat to get Ryan back in bed. Works for me!

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