Day 2 - Hiccup

Day 2 wasn't as smooth as Day 1. Still awoke at 6:00 and got in my exercise. Breakfast was a breeze. Molly on the bus, no sweat. But then came the tears.

John wasn't flowing with the separation. As soon as I'd leave the room, he'd cry. And he wail. And he'd get mad and throw his pacifier. My pacification methods revolve around food, but I can offer only so many Goldfish. Or bananas. Or bread. Boy, please, go play! Needless to say, productivity took a dive.

The hits continued. I mentioned that one of my errands on Day 1 was to vacuum the mini-van. After picking up Molly at school, she said, "There's some pink sand back here." As in the back row where she sits. Not exactly. The "pink sand" was actually cherry lik-a-stix powder that she surreptitiously opened on the way home. Anger.

We got home, more wailing, listening skills from the girls at minimum levels. Things settled down around lunch. PB&J, cream cheese on cinnamon bread, clementines, carrots, etc. All was a calm. We had cake for dessert. In hindsight, I could have played that a bit smarter. The frosting was blue, among other colors. Clean up was EXTENSIVE. Lunch finally ended and we headed to the library.

I'm all about the reading. In fact, I won't deny my addiction to the bound and printed. I can't help myself. My favorite store? Easy -- Half-Priced Books. A selling point to a house we almost bought a few years back was its proximity to HPB. Probably what eliminated it from consideration as well. Moving on, the library was fine. We checked out books, we played, the kids used the bathroom because it's different from the ones at home. The usual.

We get home and the fit hits the shan. Molly checked out a CD from the library and decided to go down to the basement to listen to it on her player. I should mention that it's the Doodlebops, which is an extreme form of torture, thus the requirement that it be played below ground. Phoebe decided she wants to go, too. The problem here is that she didn't close the door, as she has been instructed to do over and over and over again. I set down the cart of books, turn around, and see John FALL DOWN THE STAIRS! I can't remember the last time I was simultaneously so scared and angry. Fortunately, the stairs are carpeted and they turn, so his descent was limited to just four steps. But the images of him cartwheeling down are plastered on my brain. Luckily, he bounced back quickly, the damage more in terms of fear than bumps and bruises. Hours later, I still had not relaxed.

The rest of the day was a tightrope. I was on edge, the girls weren't listening, and I kept thinking about the what if's of John's fall. We put them to bed early. I watched my Miami Heat -- that's right, I grew up there, so I have the right to support them -- beat the local team. And then sleep. Day 1 and Day 2 were extreme swings. Day 3, what have you got for me?

Speaking of the Heat, I rooted through the growing pains. I was there when it started, so I get to enjoy this now. Seikaly, Sherman, Rory Sparrow, Jon Sundvold, Pat Cummings, Sylvester Gray, Grant Long. It all started with that bunch, I kept the fire as they crawled their way to mediocrity. Glen Rice, Steve Smith, Willie Burton, Harold Minor, even Alec Kessler. Funny thing about Kessler: After Heat games, we'd frequently hit Mario the Baker in North Miami for pizza. On several occasions, Kessler would beat us to the restaurant. I realize he might not have played much those nights, but still. Anyway, when they put it together in Wade's second season with  Shaq, I rejoiced. Now they're back as a super-team. I accept it and I won't be accused of bandwagoning (not a word).

Day 1 - Structure

Structure. I knew that would be the key. Implementation was the challenge. And crying. That was another challenge. Not me, but them. Well, mostly them. It's hard to get much done with crying.


With my wife, Emily, beginning her career in realty, it has fallen on me to watch the three little ones. It helps that I'm in the process of launching a business -- we have a little bit of flexibility. Molly is 6; Phoebe is 3; John is 17 months. A challenge? Yes. But a nice one.

So, structure. I knew it would have to start with staying ahead of the curve, so to speak. That meant getting up early, or at least earlier than I have of late. The alarm was set for 6:00 am, a full hour before Molly would typically stir. This enabled me to get down to the treadmill quickly, kick out a quick two miles, and then shower and dress. It's currently still too cold here in Indiana for me to run outside. Yes, I know the die-hards do it, but I'm not one of them. I like a controlled environment. I'll hit a half-dozen or so of the 5Ks after it warms up, but that's because I like to amass t-shirts and have an excuse to eat like Michael Phelps. Not really. It's about accomplishment. If someone had told me 18 months ago that I would ever run more than 20 feet, I'd have laughed in their face. But things change. Anyway . . .


Molly was up first, as expected, followed by Phoebe shortly after. I caught a break on Day 1 because the kids had requested breakfast ice cream, which Emily had to make because I don't know how. I suppose I could find out, but I'm good with not knowing. Emily subsequently left, I got Molly loaded on the bus, and then I woke John from his slumber.


"Good Morning, buddy! Hey, your diaper exploded. Awesome."


After a quality wash and wipe down, I got the boy dressed and carried him down for his breakfast. In the meantime, Phoebe was getting ready for her morning at pre-school. It was Valentine's Day, so she had a party in the cards. I'll keep the rest of our personal V Day event discussions to a minimum but I'll summarize as follows: Cards were exchanged, candy was eaten, flowers were given, and we topped off the evening with a delightful dinner of pasta without sauce because we surprisingly didn't have any, followed by a rip-roaring showing of the all-time classic Kronk's New Groove. Jealous?

Back to pre-school. After dropping off Phoebe, John and I began our errands, which included vacuuming out the mini-van, a trip to Costco, and a stop at the Aunt Millie's factory bread store. John's vocabulary is still limited, but one of his big words is "bread." As we walked into the bread store, his eyes got wide and he started pointing at all the racks. "Bread! Bread! Bread!" This went on for some time. In fact, I worried that leaving would devastate him. Fortunately, it did not. We picked up the girls at their respective schools, and went home for lunch.


The remainder of the day was uneventful. Kids had naps, crafts were completed, Emily came home, and we ate our previously mentioned "romantic" dinner. I will take a moment to note something of Emily's lunch trip to Wendy's. Apparently, they now have something on the menu called the Baja Salad, which from the picture looks like a southwestern type of meal (corn, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, etc). Emily ordered it. Unfortunately, when it was presented to her, she said it looked like the dregs of a chili cauldron sloshed over wilted lettuce. You know when it's real?

In summary, structure worked. And I got a few small housekeeping things done. Now, to maintain it.