Frenzied Daddy

How do I tell the universe that it’s ok, I’ve learned that lesson and could we please make this less painful? Specifically finances. I keep shouting on the inside but nobody’s listening!

The kitchen cabinets in front of the sink are messed up. Basically they’re cut from one hunk of plywood. There’s a square “C” and then the center of the “C” is cut in half. Then the whole thing is turned on its side, so the two doors are part of the plywood. The main problem with this is that on both sides of the “C” the hinges have caused the wood to split, and so the cabinet is difficult to open or shut and always feels like it’s going to fall off. Basically I need to replace this front piece, I don’t think reinforcing the wood and using wood putty will do the job I need it to.

Also, the part above the doors is a separate hunk of wood; there’s a seam where it meets the side parts.

It might be easiest to replace this if I cut a new top part, new side parts and attach the side parts back to the top part with those metal brace things you can get to brace wood pieces together. That might be how they did it in the first place, although without the braces. Then re-add the cabinet doors. Although I’d be losing a bit of wood due to the saw blade turning the wood to sawdust in the cut, I think I can accomodate that. However, it wouldn’t give an easy way to keep them closed (I could add those magnetic closers at the top I suppose.

What do you think? Do I need a new tool to fix this?

Those of you who see me on Facebook have already read about this.

Miss K lost her tooth yesterday. This was not a surprise. Not to me, not to her mother, anyway. It came as a total shock to the kiddo herself though. Back when the girls had a dentist appointment, the dentist said she had a couple of loose teeth and that she could, if she worked at it, lose her teeth before Christmas. That was more than two weeks ago.

Last night, she asked for an apple, but had to stop because it hurt to chew. Then she put her fingers in her mouth … and withdrew a tooth! One of the two in the front, on the bottom. There was a little blood and a little pain, but she wasn’t really upset about that– she was upset that her tooth had come out of her body! Miss K had always expected her teeth to be there for her, and now this one rebel was going to let her down.

Soon though, she was happy. We’ve all lost teeth, even the neighbor kids (K, H, and E). We got through those and we’ll get through this. And it shows she’s growing up. And, I bet her teacher will be so pleased for her. Eventually, her mother got her mood turned around, and the sun came out from behind the clouds of toothlessness. It turns out her bus driver was happy for her too!

The good news is that the tooth fairy came by and left a gold dollar coin for her tooth. The bad news is that she’s already stuck her tongue in the tooth hole, so the tooth will not be growing in gold.

My favorite joke this year has to be “yeah well in 10 years we’ll be looking back with 2020 hindsight.”

With Miss B turning 13 this year, gifts from relatives have changed dramatically. People have stopped asking me what she wants, have stopped shopping from her Amazon wish list, and have started giving her cash. I’m not sure what I think of this new trend. On one hand, it’s great for the giver and for the thirteen year old. But on the other, it’s annoying to hear “please drive me to Barnes and Noble” when I can barely consider getting myself a haircut. Is that why the cliche for parents is to resent the incessant requests for driving your teenager somewhere? Because the parents are jealous of having some money to spend on yourself? Hmm, maybe more research is required

I’ve also been considering a few things. As Ms B gave me her old iPod when hers got upgraded, I’m listening to more music and even some neat podcasts. I could totally do a podcast — maybe I should give it a shot. But I’m sure it’d be difficult coming up with interesting content for it. On the otherhand, maybe I should read kid’s books and podcast those (hey Mike Mulligan’s Steam Shovel would be a fun little book to read), for .. uh, kids to read along with. Yeah, I know it’s a dumb idea. I’m just not sure where to take it… ESL, maybe?

Sometimes when I walk from the car to the office, I go past a huge child care place, down on first and oak (and second and oak, it takes up most of the first floor of this particular building). I like to watch the kids playing in there. One day, as I marched past, head down so I didn’t get rain in my eyes, I noticed something strange. There was one boy and two girls away from the rest of the kids, kind of tucked around behind a wooden play set. The girls were facing the boy and he was facing them. Behind them was the window past which I was walking purposefully, behind him was the wooden play thing. Kitchen? Yeah maybe a play kitchen. The teachers were on the other side of the room doing something with the rest of the kids and hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

The look on the boy’s face sent me back; way back to when I was cross country skiing* in Anchorage…

I went past a friend’s house. Her name was Katrina. We were freshmen in High School together. She was cute and I liked to pass notes back and forth with her in Social Studies. And, uh, math. Maybe some in english too. Bah, I liked flirting with her, and she never said “get lost.” The main problem was that I had a girlfriend at the time, Stacy. Stacy was pretty much my first “real girlfriend.” The first girl I kissed, and meant it. She went to a different school though, and Katrina was closer to home. As I passed her house, Katrina came out and waved me to a stop. She invited me into her garage where we could “talk” without her parents butting into our conversation. I took off the skiis, put them and the poles up against the wall (leaving would be more of a production now than just running off). And I went into the dark garage with Katrina, not knowing what to expect, but thinking it couldn’t be too bad.

This is where I learned that Katrina and Stacy knew each other. A sinking feeling, then some fifteen or thirty minutes of “discussion,” after which I was supposed to “choose.” And then, of course, both of them telling me to go away and not talk to either of them any more. I knew it was a foregone conclusion when I found Stacy at Katrinas. The Jig, as they say, was up.

The look on this poor kid’s face looked just like I imagine mine did when I was cornered like a dirty, lying, dog-faced, two-timing rat.

So, some advice for you, kid. Hang tough. Apologize to the women and hold your head high. Don’t make unnecessary choices. It’s not really “either x or y” — it’s more likely “neither” than “both.”

* Don’t mistake me. We didn’t get to ski a lot in Anchorage. I just happened to be tooling around on my skis.

I hate stuff in the road.

I don’t know where it comes from, probably my socialist side, but I hate that when there’s a big thing in the road (bag of trash, et cetera), people just swerve into the other lanes and cause traffic problems rather than just move it. I don’t think you should put it in your car, or whatever, just get it out of the way. And I remember seeing things along the freeways as a kid, wondering where they came from and what their stories were.

Maybe it was the crowbar that came flying at me and stuck in my car so long ago. I don’t really know.

Last year it was a big five gallon tank that looked like it fell off a jeep or something. I was surprised how heavy it was as I dragged it off the highway. Last week, I pulled a big bag of trash out of one lane on Columbia. And today, there was a road sign (“steel plate in roadway”) that had fallen over and the sticklike supports were in the road just ready to be jammed into someone’s wheels or under their suspension. So when I pulled around at 42nd at the construction, I went up the hill a little way (it doubles back) and pulled over.

I thought I successfully navigated down the hill and to the sign but, alas, a sneaky (and thick!) blackberry runner caught me around the ankle and I fell down the rest of the hill, landing on my knees and hands in the muddy gravel. Not an image I like to present. But I dragged it out of the road and stuck it in the construction area anyway. Bah. Maybe I saved someone’s wheel. Maybe not. Just wonder where this hatred comes from.

This is the most lights I’ve put on the house in … Well, ever. There’s a strand along the roof, one in the window, one on the Japanese Maple and even a little net of lights on the Rhody in front. Not to mention the tree.

Oh, Krampus, the tree. We went up to our new favorite lot; ($20 per tree, u-cut) SkyLine Tree Farm. It was surprisingly muddy; I should have worn shoes with better traction. I slipped and … “got mud on my butt” is an understatement. It was still wet an hour later and when I got into the car I sat on my coat. I fell on my hand and after the mud treatment my palm is nice and soft.

finally we settled on a tree. It was cute, and about 8 feet tall. Nice and bushy Noble Fir, with places for bigger ornaments. A great little tree. I crawled under the branches and got to work with the tree saw. And worked, and worked. The wii fit wasn’t much help. I was laying down to get to the trunk, so my angle of attack wasn’t so great and my shoulder still hurts (two days later) from having to hold the saw up. The tree was very wide down at the base and after forty five minutes of sawing I realized the cut was all twisted and wouldn’t match up anyway.

Ms B gave me permission to start again; so I went up a foot and cut it again. It only took about 15 minutes after starting that cut. Tied our kill to the roof of the Ford and drove home.

When we got it home, we realized a flaw in our plan. The base wasn’t long enough to touch the bottom of the stand while the branches sat on the ring at the top of the stand. After trying to “just screw it in” (the cats knocked it over) and then trying some blocks under the tree to hold it up (Ima gonna put this tree up on blocks in my yard and fix it right up) (the cats knocked it over again), Ms B decided that a straight, shorter tree with fewer branches was better than a taller tree tilted at at 45 degree angle. Honest, I thought the angle tree was nice. But I pulled it out and lopped off the ring of bottom branches with the circular saw.

Now, it’s about 6 feet tall and actually kind of cute, in a “why did we buy a 4 foot tree” sort of way.

The kittens adore it, but most importantly, the girls love it. With the lights on the house, it’s been pretty fantastic. Now I’m ready for hibernation- I’m tired and sore and my knuckles are all scratched up.

Am I strange? Am I the only one who reads “Work – kick your butt into line- self -help” books and thinks how they apply to family life?

This guy, Larry Winget, has this to say…. “It’s your fault. It’s not your coworkers that make your work suck. If sales suck, it’s because you suck (as a salesman).” This really led itself to reflection on my life as a father- “The house sucks because you suck as a house cleaner / house maintainer.” or “The kids’ work ethic sucks because you suck at teaching kids work ethic.” And then the corollary to this, once you’ve acknowledged that it’s your fault, is “You like it like this.” Because it’s your fault and it’s not changing. This also applies, once the kid is old enough to examine their lives, to the kid. Miss B must like getting yelled at, being ordered to do her practicing, and being embarrassed at school when I walk her to school to turn in her homework.

Actually, as just an training/observation thing, it works for the five year old too. I can observe her and consider if she’s doing a particular thing because she likes the result.

Interesting book so far. I’m only on chapter 5, I’m skimming through it pretty quickly (he repeats himself a lot).

Miss K is at a stressful age for a father who sometimes just wants to be left alone. She’s determined to get her fair share of time, attention, candy and presents. Sometimes she drives me to the city limits of insanity by climbing into my lap, pushing on me with her feet on my legs and her head under my chin so the chair reclines (either the office chair or the recliner), or asking me to color with her, read her a book, get her some food, find her a kitten, whatever.

Yes, even when I’ve just arrived home from work! Yes, when I’m trying to get some “down time” — yes! When I tell her to go bug someone else! I love her, and I love doing all that stuff with her, but seriously, sometimes daddy’s lap is daddy’s lap!

Anyway, she gets me to the suburbs of insanity, and then she looks up at me and tells me she’s got a secret to tell me. She wants to whisper it in my ear. Gritting my teeth, I bend forward to hear it and what does she say?

“Daddy, I love you. You’re very special to me. Don’t tell anyone else- this is a secret.”

Jeez. Make me cry why dontcha.