Doing the Dad thing

Wow, this week has been kind of a slow posting week over here at ol’ cyberjazzdaddy. That would be because it’s been a fast moving week everywhere else. You see, I’ve been playing Mr. Mom this week in the evenings. My wife had an opportunity to help out a very desperate community players group, and she took it. She has been wanting to get back into the theater world and they had one of their backstage people bail on them. So she’s filling in and going to evening rehearsals from 6 to 10:30. That means that it’s all dad at the end of the day.

This week I’ve cleaned up, picked up kids from activities, baby sat the twin nieces, given baths, emptied and refilled the bathwater after the Bear sneezed the biggest wad of mucous into the water that I’ve even seen (!), convinced a naked dripping Lemur to get back into the tub assuring him that all the mucous was gone down the drain, done playroom and bedroom pick up supervision, got boys to bed, apologized and explained why it got to late to do our bedtime book reading, supervised teen online chat, talked to the daughter about day, sent her off to bed after her shower, and then turned out all lights in the house and turned on the ocean sounds CD to rock the littlest guy to sleep. Then I put him in bed, and then put him back in bed about 3 more times because he kept wandering out into the still dark house.

I also had to do the “parent of kid in a fight talking to other parent of other kid in a fight” thing last night. When I got home about 6:00, Lemur was watching the two teen boys across the street play driveway basketball while sitting next to the new little blond curly headed boy from down the block. It looked so peaceful in the first sunset we’ve seen this week (all the other have been blocked by rain clouds). He saw me pull up and ran across the street to our driveway, leaping onto me, and holding on with is arms and legs wrapped around my torso. After the greeting he went back over to join the group again with that "I'm just a big kid hanging with the guys" thing in his step.

I went inside and prepared a late dinner from what was left on the table from the evening meal. A short time later, while I’m eating, Lemur storms into the house. He plops down on the couch beside me and brews for a second, his face getting red. Then explodes, all tears and spittle;

“I’M NEVER GOING TO PLAY WITH HIM EVER AGAIN!!!”

Oh, man. “What happened buddy?”

“HE HIT ME IN THE FACE SO I HIT HIM IN THE EYE AND I’M NEVER GOING TO PLAY WITH HIM EVER AGAIN!”

“Ok dude, I’m right here. You can take it down a couple of notches. You’re kinda blowing my head off.”

After I calmed him down a little, and was trying to get out the door to take Robo to Boy Scouts, I see the neighbor mom coming down the sidewalk, little blond curly haired kid in tow ---and he was still holding his eye.

Believe me, I knew before I even saw that injured little dude that this wouldn't have been a equally matched confrontation. Lemur didn’t even have red mark on his face, but I know from experience that when Lemur lands a punch, it has some power behind it. I had been battered several times while teaching the Lemur to have some control when we’re fun wrestling on the living room floor. He’s a skinny little kid but he’s got a flash temper, and if you cross him badly, the fury can sometimes take over. We’ve been working on that.

But I totally wasn’t looking forward to meeting the other side on our front sidewalk. What was I going to say? What would she want from me? I was sorry, and of course I would apologize (even if it was the other little guy that started it supposedly), but what more could I do? So I got my little boy by his wrist and walked out onto the porch to face this new aspect of parenting.
As it turned out, I sort of ran with the conversation, talking mostly to the two boys, first seeing if I could get a consistent story about what happened, and then making sure there was an apology. The other little boy’s mom was very gracious and made sure her son apologized too. Lemur was so overwhelmed with his sense of injustice I thought he might explode. Every thing he started to say began as a shout and I’d need to stop him and get him to bring it down to a respectful level.

I don't want to create the impression that Lemur is a troublemaker, he's not. He's funny, and smart, and passionate, and so much fun to have around. He's just the first one of our kids that seems to be a little battle prone. This is new territory for me.

The other little boy told a story that was similar but in reverse order for who threw the first punch. I never expected that it would be any different. When there’s an altercation like this, your not going to get anyone to admit blame. While the little blond boy told his side, all Lemur could do was stand there and mumble “yeah, right”---but he mumbled it low enough that it wasn’t an actually interruption because he knows that I insist on the other person having a chance to give an explanation without attack.

In the end I apologized to the Mom, who smiled back and said “Well, you know, boys will be boys” with a shrug. They’ve only lived down the block in a rental home for several months, and I don’t want this to hurt the harmony on our block. They seem understanding enough that I don’t think things like this will cause a major problem. Hopefully the two boys will be able to bury the hatchet and be friends again---probably before the weekend is out. Time seems to heal all wounds when you’re that age.

After all this excitement is a memory and the house is finally quite, my poor wife comes home, around 10:30, all jazzed after her time out doing the theater thing. She’s helping them by working the lights, and helping with props and I guess doing a little greeting as well. This community theater group is struggling back onto it’s feet after several years of inactivity and most of the members are new and not that experienced in theater, which makes my wife’s involvement, with her degree in theater, very coveted.

I say “my poor wife” because she has been coming home all week wanting some conversation from me. After all, she hasn’t seen me since she kissed me goodbye in the morning. Yet even though I love talking to her, I just want to go to bed. Six am comes early in the morning for me, especially when I’m looking forward to getting less than 8 hours of sleep to begin with. So I’ve been falling asleep while she’s sitting there not able to sleep, staring into the darkness.

In the end, though, it’s all been a grand adventure and I wouldn't trade it.