This week, Iz turns the big 0-3. If she were a dog, she’d be out getting legally drunk with her other 3-year-old dog friends. Instead, I’m the one who needs a stiff drink after the weekend that just passed and the birthday week that is about to begin. The older she gets, the more friends she seems to accumulate. This leads to more parties, where she inevitable meets new friends who, in turn, invite her to their parties.
This weekend, we shared in the birthday festivities of two such little people, while simultaneously prepping for the birthday party we are hosting for Iz. Being the parent of a toddler is like being Hanson’s tour manager. What? Hanson’s not popular anymore? Oh right, it’s 2012…my bad. Can I still say ‘my bad’? Hmm, I better go pose that question on my Myspace page and…what?…really?? Crap!
Anyway, as any parent knows, a weekend full of pint-size parties and toddler to-do’s requires serious planning and dictatorial rule over the schedule. As any parent with a soon-to-be-3-year-old knows, keeping to said schedule is nearly impossible. As Saturday morning inched closer and closer to Saturday afternoon, we suddenly realized, as if unaware of how time works, that we had to hustle if we were going to make the first party on time. We did our best “Home Alone” impression as we raced through the house at warp speed. There were showers to take, naked kids to wrangle, teeth to brush, toothbrushes to retrieve from the toilet, clothes to put on, clothes to put back on after kids took them off, a 20-month-old to lasso a diaper around, and a testy little almost-3-year-old that cared as much about our schedule as my wife cares about my fantasy football preseason prep.
Me: Izzy, please stop jumping on the bed and come get your clothes on.
Izzy: (still jumping) But I don’t want to put clothes on.
Me: Iz, I’m going to count to three and if you don’t come here and get your clothes on, you’re going in time out.
Izzy: Yea! Time out! I like time out, I want to go to time out.
Me: Izzy, time out is not a fun place. You go in time out as punishment for…
Izzy: I want to go in time out! Time out!
And this little exchange brings me to “Did I Really Just Say That” moment #1:
“If you don’t get over here right now, there will be NO time outs for you!”
After back-to-back birthday bonanzas on Saturday that left the wife and I feeling like we had just played a day-night double-header, Sunday felt like a walk in the park with only one event scheduled for the day; a baptism for my cousin’s son. We let the morning amble along like a sunbathing innertuber on a lazy river, then gradually prepared for church in much the same fashion as the previous day’s activities.
Once again, our inability to manage time properly caused us to arrive late, though we were able to slink in from the back, relatively unnoticed. The kids were shockingly well behaved during most of the service, probably still somewhat comatose from the overabundance of cake they ate the day before. After church, everyone was invited back to the house to celebrate the young buck’s new churchly accolades.
Food and drinks abound, Daddy dabbled in the alcoholic variety while the kids sampled juices of all varieties. After a thorough search, the kids discovered the room that seemed most likely to contain fragile do-dads and expensive thingies and set up shop in their new “play room”. Jen and I, as well as the other parents of the demo crew, lined the room and did our best to keep the kids corralled in the center.
Dinner was announced and food that catered to both young and old filled the dining room, all of which was of the yummy variety. The kids of course wanted nothing to do with any of it…save for the giant bowls of chips sporadically placed throughout the house. After several hours of eating, drinking, and general merriment, it was clear that the kids were sticking to their guns as far as eating anything that resembled healthy, or even just non-snack-like nourishment.
Me: Izzy, will you try some of this peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
Izzy: Umm, no.
Me: Well, how about the fruit salad? Or some macaroni and cheese?
Izzy: No Daddy, I want chips…just chips.
Me: Iz, you really need to eat something other than chips. What about…
Izzy: CHIPS! CHIPS!!
And this brings me to “Did I Really Just Say That” moment #2:
“Fine. Will you please stop yelling and go get yourself MORE chips?”
And such is daily life with Iz and The Jakester…just one moment after another that makes me stop and think, “Did I really just say that?”
What have you said to your kids recently that was utterly ridiculous?
And don’t forget, baby #3 is on the way and we still want your guesses for DOB, time, height, weight, and of course, sex. Enter your guesses in the Baby Chaney Guessing Game now! Click here to enter.