Ida Maria – Queen Of The World

G and I got into a BIG fight.

The cherry topping on this giant pile-o-shit cake was that it came after rock climbing class. G is on Fall Break, and we did not clue-in to kindergartners actually having an actual ‘Fall Break‘ in time to avoid 5 days of Hurricane G to the chest. Her climbing coach said it was her best ever day. I’m sure, rested and antsy and ready to blow. After class I climbed with her.   She became   the teacher. She has 4x the hours on a climbing wall I’ve ever had; six months weekly has made her hands and forearms powerful. and i’m coachable.   G said ‘look up, don’t look down.’ The extra effort i spent flailing my feet were easier on my body then the drag from pointing my head down. On the second run i started remembering where the toe-holds were, or getting the most out of a quick glance and sticky climbing shoes. Suddenly it made sense how carelessly she hops up the walls flopping on only 2 contact points; she is good. And my 3 runs were so much easier than they looked from the bottom, a milestone for me…thanks t.Human!

I was about to ask the staff for the next belay class when G baked the pile-o-shit cake. Suddenly she was kicking and screaming and writhing on the floor about tying her shoes. *boom* Welcome to Genevieve’s meltdown.

It was so obvious, when I look at it now.

The day before,   Alana — also being vagrant due to teacher career enhancement training at Kinder Care (which *groan* i wholeheartedly support) — threw a too-expensive-for-toddlers bowl of peas into the wall. I shrugged and ever-so-mildly berated myself. Saw it all coming, saw her not-nap, nod off in the car, slide into bitchiness. I was too very weary to care, it was just a bowl.

I got beatdown at work, beatdown by housewifing, beatdown by my house and wife, and blown from 30 minutes climbing and an hour lifting. I may still have been feeling dt’s after Tuc Fxs.

It was so obvious, when I look at it now.

But in the moment, it was an insult, her personal grudge against all the work and patience i’ve given her, a submission to her lazy self-indulgence. She knows…KNOWS…i can take just about any of her bullshit anywhichway…except shrieking, too many years of that.   “oh no you didn’t!‘ I thought while my inner angry black chick waggled her neck.

I felt awful all next day. tummy-twisting awful. don’t-look-in-the mirror awful. be-nice-to-awful-coworkers awful.   move-out-failure-as-father-&-husband awful.

Things are not as bad as they seem, and blogging is dramaqueenization. Focusing on improvement is my best effort at closure on pile-o-shit cake mistakes. Words hurt, and i’ve always been too good with them. When you make a nearly-6 yr old cry for 5x longer than when she ate shit on this big hill, i don’t need to be told twice a correction is required.

Sometimes i hate my wife for my burdens and bondage. Then, her comprehension of my dynamics awe me, remind me of all that’s genuine between us. She said: G’s not a bad kid, she’s tired, sometimes she needs help, sometimes you punish her. I chapped Beckie a few days prior for letting Alana faceplant when she 75% knew it would end in a faceplant. Touche, thanks Sweet Honey for the knowledge.   ‘

I apologized to G an hour later, while she was washing her hands. M’eh, the moment was there. I’m sorry i got cranky, i was tired. you know how it gets when your’e cranky?

Then Beckie went away for 2 days. and G was still off school for 2 days. Genevieve, Alana, and Paypal – i was monster-herding every second, i dreamed about my stress. Thursday was luau night at the Fishbowl! G spun nearly 3 hrs nonstop, exploding from a good day of movies and cooked-to-order meals and Starfall. ‘May I have some broccoli‘ = parenting heroics. Alana was much the same. At the Fishbowl, I looked for it, saw it, caught it also in myself, then loaded us all into the car and got the fuck out, before any vampires feasted. All night i calibrated on helping, not pushing. The return of positive-dad [insert estrogen joke here]. I explained it to G when i was starting to lose it, and she said ‘i’m gonna take my cranky face off too’, then passed out in the car. Alana was so jacked on candy she yapped nonstop, but i finally got her to lay down and sleep without yelling 2 hrs later. By Friday i was hungover and drunk, kept marching on, brought G to my office and the library and Fresh&Sleazy. She ate everything in sight, she spoke to me and i listened to her, she was beautiful for 6 hrs. I finished my work day at 12:04am.

Parenting is probably better both hard and soft. The positivity of going soft is immeasurably easier.