It’s 4:35pm. Chrissy leaves to be early for work. She says good-bye to us for the night and kisses her boys goodbye. Eliza is already come, done her homework, and gone. She’s old enough to go to her friends house without being escorted. Every chance she gets, she takes. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve gotten considerably less cooler, or if I just haven’t been putting the effort into having a better relationship with her. Maybe the relationship is fine; it’s just one of those stages where you wonder. In any case there’s no time to think about it.
Daniel is hammering a nail into a piece of wood nearby. The more he pounds, the more it bends. The nail and hammer are both small, but his 3 year old frame isn’t quite ready for this test of coordination. Rainey is wandering around ‘helping’ as well. He’s actually pretty good when he’s around, but the moment he’s not: you have to worry. While contemplating my relationship with my daughter, saying goodbye to Chrissy, and wondering about Rainey I’m constructing a bird feeder out of wood lying around the house.
It’s not going so well.
Chrissy can’t quite see the finished product in her mind, and I’m too embarrassed to share the details. I’m wondering if it’s the fact that I’m totally winging it. I’m wondering if working with tools is a genetic thing and somehow I misplaced my skills. After all we grew up with three boys at home–there was a lot of testosterone. Growing up I thought the A-Team was the way life really worked in the real world. Now I wonder why you would ever throw down your gun so you could punch someone instead. I wonder with as many montages on building a ‘tank’ that I saw I didn’t get more out of it. Maybe a birdhouse isn’t a ‘tank.’
Maybe I’m just not good as solving problems that involve wood and a barely used table saw. I considered myself technically smart until this morning when I realized that I wasn’t good at manually gunnery and failed. One more thing to think about. Now I’ve got to re-study and spend Saturday morning in uniform taking the test over again. What were those mistakes again? I wasn’t allowed to take notes during the test review this afternoon.
What’s Rainey getting into in the van?
Oh, he’s got those hot-sauce covered pistachio nuts. How the heck can my kids eat those things and like them? What’s this cut supposed to be? I hope this thing doesn’t look too ugly when it’s finished. I’m putting effort into it, but it all goes down the drain if Chrissy doesn’t like the way it looks. She’ll never let me put it up in the yard.
Done with the bird feeder.
Where’s Rainey? He’s moved from the nuts to a bag of honey roasted peanuts he found in the door. Hey, those were in Chrissy’s door, and I was really hungry the other day when I was driving. How come I didn’t get to snack on those on the way home?
It looks like it might rain. The garage is still covered in stuff from the move. My workshop is outdoors and needs to get packed inside.
Daniel’s tired. It’s that time of the afternoon. Tired or not he’s the only consultant I’ve got on where to put this thing up. First we talk about hanging it. He wants to put it where you can’t see it unless your outside. I want to be able to stay inside and watch the birds eat. Hanging it means that you end up with weeds in the grass near the house. That’s the only good grass we’ve got in spots. Wait a second! We got a picket and I can put it on that. Daniel doesn’t like the idea. He let’s me know. I wander around the yard holding a picket and a hammer. Rainey’s out of sight and Daniel is protesting in pure 3-year-old fashion. I’m wondering where I want the weeds to grow.
Do I really want one more thing in the yard I have to mow around?
Bird seed is nothing more than weed/wildflower seed mixed together no matter where I put it I’ll end up with weeds. Maybe here near this pipe sticking out of the yard. Yeah, that might be good ’cause then I’ll only have one thing to work around. Wait, that pipe marks a sprinkler for the septic. How far down were the piped dug again? Do I really want to be watering weeds?
“Daniel, we’re done.” Best to wait and ask Chrissy. Let’s go in and eat. Bad idea. Eliza showed up with her friends. They’re leaving someplace and Daniel wants to go. He runs into to get his shoes. The leave while he’s inside. I’m the only adult left and so it’s my fault. Where’d Rainey go again? He’s crying outside ’cause I left him. It’s a good thing it doesn’t take too hands for any one kid. I can carry Daniel upside down with one hand and Rainey upside down in the other. Grab tight just above the ankles. Daniel’s pants are sliding off–gotta hurry. Dropped them both on the couch.
Two growly children. Ok, outdated church video said distract not discipline. Today I’m doing good. I thought of a distraction on my way home. Paper bag costumes are not a good enough distraction–but since they were so keen on the costumes in Wal-mart (curses and blessings be upon it) the idea seemed to have some merit. Discipline’s still not an option–what’s next?
LIFE: This is the egg-beater on “low.” Eliza comes home and it’s time to clean house and the setting gets changed to “high.” Sure Chrissy does it all day. Lots of moms do it all day, but when it’s my turn it’s not just “not mom’s,” it’s mine. It’s me on the wrong end of the three-to-one ratio. I’ve never been able to compete in an argument about how it’s ‘tougher’ for dads. Most times I can’t finish a significant sentence. The reply is generally: “No evidence will be considered in the case of mom’s vs. dad’s watching kids. We’d appreciate if you didn’t try to bring this up at all.” They should have a warning on conversations like that: “Please deposit 5 happy relationship points for every 30 seconds you try to have your opinion on this subject heard.”
It’s now 9:00pm. Rainey’s lying next to me. He’s being quiet so I don’t mind. Chrissy told me this afternoon that he’s done with his bottle. I discovered the last two hours before bed that he’s also managed to loose both of his pacifiers. She’s not answering my text messages. I’m really hoping she’s got a spare stashed away somewhere. She was supposed to be home a half hour ago.
This kids going to be unruly tomorrow. He pooped in the toilet tonight before bath time. He pooped in the bathtub tonight during bath time as well. If Chrissy reads this before looking at the birdhouse I’ll get to put it up out of sympathy instead of success. This spring I want to build a chicken coop for my birthday. The idea has shifted from fun present, to an ominous project.
When it’s all done I wouldn’t trade today for anything. Some stupid inkling of faith tells me I’m going to miss days like this one. I still need to put my mind at ease–there’s poop residue in the bathtub I need to take care of still. Although the memories of today will be nice in the future, the memories of yesterday ring a bit sweeter for now. I wonder what Matt Lammie is doing?
I miss hiking in Utah.