My wife pointed out that my previous post about fearing my kids probably wasn’t accurate. I think she is correct. Don’t go back and read it. It wasn’t my best work. Most of the best stuff made its way here.
I don’t really fear my kids. Fear isn’t the proper word.
When I’ve been up late the night before and work has kicked my butt and my eyes are struggling to stay open and I’m still staring at 3 or 4 hours of 3-against-1 odds it isn’t fear I’m feeling. Instead it’s a sense of just how daunting the task ahead is.
Daunting.
That sums it up.
The odds are bad enough. As the first sonogram revealed one, and maybe 2, embryos, my wife turned to me and asked: “are you OK with that, honey?” I said “yeah, I just don’t want to be outnumbered. Man-to-man coverage is fine, I just don’t want to play zone.”
The odds are bad enough. As the first sonogram revealed one, and maybe 2, embryos, my wife turned to me and asked: “are you OK with that, honey?” I said “yeah, I just don’t want to be outnumbered. Man-to-man coverage is fine, I just don’t want to play zone.”
Famous last words and all because of course a week later we learned that one grainy black-and-white image might hold 5 embryos. Where and how? I have no idea. But I’m told they crammed in there somehow, someway. Suddenly three-against-one seemed like a fair fight.
But it has never been fair. As my wife will tell you, I tend to focus really hard on one thing or 100 things all at once. Which is great in some ways: My mind works something like a child’s mind, so I’m right there with the triplets mentally. On the other hand, I’m not supposed to be empathizing with them, I’m supposed to be guiding them.
As an adult with my disposition I’m stuck. I love sitting on the front porch watching the cars go by, and my kids do as well. It’s a great, shared, time together. But the whole experience occurs at a different speed for them than it does for me. For them, 5 fleeting minutes of buses and cars and they are already headed in three different directions; I’ve only just sat down.
And of course, leaving the house, like, ever, is a herculean task. Not impossible, but herculean. My wife, who is much more of a planner and organizer than I am, does this much better. She will tell you I simply don't think far enough ahead. I think she is right; and lying. I think its herculean for her as well. She simply won't admit to a failure to plan.
And there are things we will never do. I'll never be able to take my one kid to the pool. Sure, we can split the threesome up in practice, but in reality its not so easy. Either because they fear missing an adventure or because they fell like they are missing a limb, they are easily disturbed if one of them sets off without them. So while the math of breaking them up is easy, the application is a bit tougher. I guess their attitude might suggest we should do it more often than we do, but the practical realities make that difficult. There are only so many fights that can be fought. I'm proud of the job we do, but there are certainly more things that could be done.
And there are things we will never do. I'll never be able to take my one kid to the pool. Sure, we can split the threesome up in practice, but in reality its not so easy. Either because they fear missing an adventure or because they fell like they are missing a limb, they are easily disturbed if one of them sets off without them. So while the math of breaking them up is easy, the application is a bit tougher. I guess their attitude might suggest we should do it more often than we do, but the practical realities make that difficult. There are only so many fights that can be fought. I'm proud of the job we do, but there are certainly more things that could be done.
Daunting.
I'm planning to take all three to the playground on an upcoming night when the wife is out. I figure with her gone for the afternoon and evening Team Boy (with honorary member Sadie) can go out and have some fun. But what to do for dinner? For them, its not so bad. They don't really mind lukewarm food from a can. I, on the other hand, would prefer not to eat like some post-apocalyptic survivor. But what to do? I'll drive by the place I'd order from, but can I go in an pick it up? Can I really leave the kids in the car? And what if the 1 minute stop becomes a five minute stop? What if the kids are cranky? What if what if.
Daunting.
I'm planning to take all three to the playground on an upcoming night when the wife is out. I figure with her gone for the afternoon and evening Team Boy (with honorary member Sadie) can go out and have some fun. But what to do for dinner? For them, its not so bad. They don't really mind lukewarm food from a can. I, on the other hand, would prefer not to eat like some post-apocalyptic survivor. But what to do? I'll drive by the place I'd order from, but can I go in an pick it up? Can I really leave the kids in the car? And what if the 1 minute stop becomes a five minute stop? What if the kids are cranky? What if what if.
Daunting.
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