PPP&P part deux

PPP&P part deux :

Because this week­end Mac has essen­tial­ly declared that he will not poo in the pot­ty and has had at least two very recent mishaps that defy the law of physics (I’ll spare you the details.1 ) and has drawn his Mag­inot Line in the sand, writ­ten in yel­low so to speak. The results of our assault are Gal­lipo­lian in nature. So, I do want to report that Scar­lett, on the oth­er hand, seems to be right on pot­ty-train­ing sched­ule. She has respond­ed pavlo­vian­ly to the lol­ly-pop bribe, and a time or two now has lit­er­al­ly peed on com­mand when remind­ed what was in it for her.

Need­ing no bribe, Jack­son can always be relied on to pee the moment he is sans couche.

  1. OK, OK, in one he was able to pee in the mid­dle of a fur­ni­ture store by seem­ing­ly spir­it­ing his pee past his pull-ups and shorts in order to cre­ate a very large pool of pee on the con­crete floor. The sec­ond, he again some­how over­whelmed his pull-ups with much less desir­able con­tents and results. []

Up all night (not me mind you)

Who ever said that par­ent­ing gets eas­i­er with each addi­tion­al kid was out of their frakin’ minds. Pri­or to the arrival of each kid, some well mean­ing but delu­sion­al1 acquit­tance would slap my back and tell me that this one would be eas­i­er. If any­thing, I have found that man­ag­ing each new bun­dle of unbear­able joy has in fact been hard­er and hard­er. I think the fal­la­cy is think­ing that now that we’re expe­ri­enced par­ents we won’t go through the same mis­takes that noob par­ents do, but that’s not true.2

With each new kid, you again remem­ber at three in the morn­ing that one trick you had for­got­ten that sud­den­ly shunts the baby back down into a qui­et bliss. Whether its swad­dling or rhyth­mi­cal­ly ‘shh-ing’3 or read­ing them excerpts from Lacan’s le stade du miroir, these epipha­nies will come back, but aren’t instant­ly recalled until sleep depri­va­tion kicks in.

I try to dis­cuss this with Jen­nifer but these days she is bone tired and all she hears is “wah-wah, Jen­nifer, wah wah wah,” like the Peanuts’ trom­bone sound effect4 of adults speak­ing to Char­lie and the gang. But in her moments of lucid­i­ty, she tells me that she has been told it’s tough to go from one to two kids, but that each addi­tion­al one there­after real­ly doesn’t mat­ter; she agrees that these same foun­tains of wis­dom had run dry some time ago and for­got­ten some of the siege-like trap­pings of par­ent­hood.

  1. Would “delud­ed” be the right adjec­tive here, instead? []
  2. You go through whole news ones too! []
  3. which is supped to repro­duce mom’s beat­ing heart they heard in the womb []
  4. to lis­ten, click here []

quick notes jan 21, 2010

briefly

one. Jack­son, if he resem­bles any­thing, is start­ing to resem­ble his old­er broth­er. Ini­tial­ly there was some hints that he was look­ing more like a Whitman/​Bradley, but sud­den­ly today, there is some­thing in the shape of his eyes and chin that reminds us of Mac. But what he real­ly looks like is a small wiz­ened man that is most­ly all head, the rest—his body,legs, arms—merely being super­flu­ous, not use­ful, not need­ed

two. Scarlett’s abil­i­ty to manip­u­late me and oth­ers keeps increas­ing, expo­nen­tial­ly. I grow more and more con­cerned that I will soon learn the true pow­er of a Daddy’s Girl. She is not even two and so I can only imag­ine her at 24. I only hope that my Jedi-mind train­ing will be up to snuff by then.

three. Maconnell’s rou­tine is to start slow­ly in the morn­ing. Much like his mom, he is comatose and mori­bund first thing in the morn­ing and real­ly needs his cup of Joe (milk) and at least a half hour of quite reflec­tion while he eats break­fast and catch­es up on the lat­est news on MSNBC (Won­der pets), before he can be addressed or spo­ken to with­out elic­it­ing a snarl (again much like his mom) but then he will rev up and up through­out the whole day until he is refus­ing to end the night and go bed. This evening he took off his paja­mas and tossed them away and then hid in his play-tent, inform­ing his moth­er that “I don’t want to put on my paja­mas and go to bed.” Strong log­ic there: No paja­mas, no bed­time.