One Dad's Life

A Dad's Dream Come True - Part 3: Swallowing the First Pill

Early Saturday morning, my wife and I woke up to sound of our oldest daughter in desperate need for some Ibuprofen.  The problem was, she isn't very good at finding things, and couldn't find any liquid Motrin.  My wife announced that we must be out and she would have to use the pill form.

A wail erupted from the kid that sounded something like a coyote barking at the moon...but much less picturesque...and a bit funnier, actually.  However, as she was desperate, she agreed to give it a try.

When my wife produced a couple of liquid gelcaps and said, "Here, take these", you would have thought that we had asked her to swallow a couple of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches! That reminds me, I really miss "Fear Factor."  Are they available on DVD?  "They are HUGE", Rebecca cried, "I can't DO it!"

Like I said, though, she was desperate and was determined to give it a try.

"Atta girl, Rebecca! We're proud of you" we said in chorus as we headed back to bed. We were tired after the drive back from Kansas City and making cookie dough in the evening.  I was certainly not ready to start the day, I'll tell you what.

"It won't go down! There is no way this is going to work!" my daughter moaned from the other room.  I'm pretty sure she also mentioned that she was going to die, or something. I'm unclear whether that was from the pain or from trying to swallow the pill, or what.  Whatever, I was not ready to face the day, and I certainly wasn't ready to try and figure out a near teen in distress.

This went on for some time, with many "conversations" going back and forth between the bedroom (where we were nestled snuggly in bed) and the dining room, where Rebecca was trying to force a pill down her own throat.  For the record, I had a lot of trouble learning how to swallow pills, too. I resisted and resisted, and one day I HAD to, and it just worked out, I think.  The important thing to remember here is that this post is NOT about me. That would be so narcissistic. No. We are talking about Rebecca, so I don't need any comments about MY childhood, OK? Thanks.

My wife and I offered lots of advice, like "Take a drink first, then throw the pill in as far as you can, and take a big drink until it just goes down!"  This didn't work, as somehow she managed to drink the water and leave the pill.  Of course, dogs can eat the cheese off a pill and spit the pill out a few minutes later, so what do I know?  Then I offered the very sage advice to take the little sip first, throw the pill in, and then chug water for the duration of a chorus of "The Hairbrush" song by Veggie Tales. My daughter wasn't too fond of this idea, though, since if it actually worked, every time she would have to take a pill she'd be thinking of this song.  What's so bad about that? It's a funny song!

Things even progressed so far as to have prayers said over the whole pill swallowing efforts.  While not particularly funny, it does demonstrate the degree to which she WANTED to take the pill, but obviously needed divine help to get it down.

Well, it worked, because eventually she swallowed the first of two pills.

There was much rejoicing, and Rebecca exclaimed in her joy, "Maybe God gave me this pain so I could learn how to swallow a pill!" Soon, I wanted the rejoicing to stop because I really wanted to go back to sleep. It is SO hard to sleep when you are in the middle of rejoicing. Seriously. YOU try it some time.

I figured that our work was done and now the second pill would be a snap.

I was wrong.

The second pill was as hard as the first.  Nothing worked. I even actually put the "Hairbrush Song" on the stereo.  No good.  Rebecca started complaining about how much water she was drinking and how much was getting all over.  "Why is the water getting all over?", I asked from my warm bed.   "I don't know why", replied a puzzled Rebecca, "it's just not really going in!"

This I had to see.

It turns out, that in order to "protect" her from the Ibuprofen, her body must have shut down her swallowing ability, because when I made my way into the dining room, I saw a sight I didn't really expect to see.  There was Rebecca, sitting by the table, trying to drink a tall glass of water.  However, the water, as far as I could tell, was making it about to her teeth - and then suddenly changing directions and EXPELLING itself from her mouth.

She was the Rebecca fountain!

In fact, there was so much water squirting out of her mouth, that I seriously wanted push a couple of buckets underneath her, install pumps and hoses to pump the water back into her glass, place some cool colorful lighting around her and feature her in our front yard! It was almost a thing of beauty.

Almost.

She gamely continued to try to get the water in her mouth so she could swallow the pill, but the only measurable result of this effort was the increasing size of the puddle around her chair.  She never did get the second pill down, and we never got anymore sleep that morning.  But still, Rebecca did swallow her first pill, and we will be beaming with pride for a few more days, I'm sure.

The saddest part of this entire story is that this morning, I opened the medicine cabinet to get out my deodorant, and noticed that the liquid Motrin was sitting front and center on the bottom shelf.  I can't wait to tell Rebecca when she gets home, tonight!

Life is good!

A Dad's Dream Come True - Part 2 : The Slumber Party

My oldest daughter, Rebecca, turned 12 in December this year.  Seeing how she was just born a year or two ago, that means that in just a few weeks she is going to be wanting to drive.

However, this post is not about driving.  I had other problems to deal with before that happens.

Since her birthday falls right exactly on Christmas Day, it is very difficult to hold birthday parties for her on her birthday with her friends.  If I was cocky enough, I'd say that my wife and I planned it that way to get out of the whole birthday party thing...you know...count backwards 40 weeks (how they get nine months out of that is one of life's mysteries) and...ahem.  Well, we didn't.   We were just lucky.

However, we have fallen into the unfortunate habit of doing something for her on, or around, her baptismal birthday.  This year, she wanted a slumber party.  As many people do when under tremendous stress and tribulation, I got a lot closer to God.  We talked about the slumber party thing a lot.  God and I decided that this would be a perfect time for a little trip out of town.  We talked to my boss who basically said I can go whenever I wanted.

God is great.

I immediately planned a little trip that would take me just about as far out of town as is possible.  Without getting into too many details (I don't want just everyone knowing about my great hiding place) I'll just say that the sun is never up on my house and where I was going at the same time.

I agreed to the slumber party.  I am such a good father!

Well, the plans progressed for the slumber party.  I completely ignored them other than nodding my head and saying "uh huh. That sounds just fine" at all the appropriate spots.  I had a trip to go on, I was already starting to lose sleep thinking of all the fun...ahem, I mean work...I would have when I arrived at my destination. 

Ahhhhhh. Life is good!

Then it happened.  An emergency at work just days before I was to leave.  My trip was off.  I was in anguish!  I forgot all about the slumber party in my anguish.  I was in mourning for my trip.  There's nothing like more stamps in the ol' passport!

Shortly after this, I eventually realized that the first shoe had dropped.  My wife, somewhat gently, reminded me of the slumber party.  Oh, no!   Now, I started losing sleep for a totally different reason.  A house full of 12 year old girls did not sound like a suitable substitute for my trip.  No.  This was not good.  Couldn't God have seen this coming?  Was he just teasing me with this whole trip idea?

That didn't seem fair. After all, I am such a good father!

In another day or two, the other shoe dropped.  Doesn't that always happen?  Why didn't I see it coming?  Why didn't God warn me?  I mean, after all, we had been talking about this, hadn't we?  Anyway, the other shoe dropped in the form of my wife announcing that her rehearsal schedule had changed and that she would now be gone most of the afternoon and evening the girls were coming over. I was going to have to stay home with...gulp...the girls.

This was certainly NOT a suitable substitute for my trip!

I tried to look at the bright side.  That's worked in the past.  I remembered all those movies that you see slumber parties in.  They seemed nice.  How bad could it be?

The fateful day came fast.  The girls started arriving.  I did what any father would do in this situation.  I went directly to my office in the basement.  God was there.  "I thought you might like some company" He said.  I shrugged.  How bad could it be?

Then the girls started screaming.  There really wasn't any kind of emergency or anything.  It seemed like they were just screaming, um, for fun.  This made no sense.   I talked to my daughter.   I said, "You guys need to calm down.  I don't want you to just be screaming all day." 

"OK, Daddy", she said. 

"That went well", I said to God.  He just smiled.  I am such a good father!  I was even inspired to come up with a little formula, using my science and engineering education.  Here it is:

Behavioral Age of Slumber Party attendees = Actual Age / Number of girls in the house

For this party, the "behavioral age" worked out to be about 2.  That seemed about right, what with all the screaming for fun and such.

Rebecca went back to her party, already in progress, and I put a CD on and went back to my work.  The talk with my daughter apparently worked, and the girls took me at my word.  Literally. They stopped "just screaming" and also starting running around like crazy for no apparent reason.

Another talk ensued and my daughter assured me that things would change.  Everything was going to be fine.  God shrugged and said, "The same thing happens to me all the time. People are always promising stuff."  I wasn't so sure my daughter understood, and I anxiously awaited signs that things were back on track.  I didn't have to wait long.  Pretty soon, the girls added slamming doors to their list of activities.  I just remembered that in all those movies, when the girls are having slumber parties, the parents ARE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!  That concept was making a lot of sense.

I didn't want to appear to be one of those "mean dads", which is something I'm actually pretty good at.  However, I was honestly worried that my house would literally be destroyed. I didn't know what to do.   I looked to God for help.  We reached for the volume knob on the stereo at the same time and turned the music up.

"Im refy mo parked to back, nut deeds hiss groob, stew!",  God said.

"WHAT?"  I shouted.  (The music was really loud).

"I SAID, I'M REALLY MORE PARTIAL TO BACH, BUT THIS IS GOOD, TOO!"  God shouted back.  He has this awesome booming voice, just like in the movies.

I beamed.  I knew the Lutherans had it right!  Bach rules! One of the girls fell down the stairs into my office.  I didn't really pay too much attention.  I was seriously listening to music. 

Eventually my wife came home and assessed the situation.  She was planning on starting up the chocolate fountain, but quickly realized that the LAST thing these girls needed was more energy.

Since we have a very small house, all the girls eventually ended up in sleeping bags in the living room.  The living room is right outside our bedroom.  Later that night - MUCH later - as I struggled to go to sleep in the racket so I could get up and go to work the next day, I devised a plan.  It was a MEAN plan.  At 7:00, when I got up for work,  I was going to make the racket.  Yep.  I have the ability to produce nearly infinite volume at any time through one of my wonderful stereos.  One of these was in the living room.  It would scare the daylights out of those kids!

Sweet!  Oops, I'm starting to talk like the girls.  I meant to say, "Cool!"  I smiled to myself, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I was awoken at 6:30 by a sound I did not expect to hear.

It was the girls.  Apparently, they decided to get up before NOON just to spoil my plan of spoiling their sleep and exacting revenge!  This was not good at all!  This was not part of the plan!  I couldn't wait to get ready for work and have a little talk with God in the car about how this all turned out.

God was clever and put this talk off as long as he could, though.  He caused every one of those girls to need to use the bathroom for getting ready in the morning.  In our single bathroom.  In our one bathroom house.

We never did have that talk.

A Dad's Dream Come True - Part 1 : The Grade School Dance

A couple of weeks ago, my daughters had their first school dance of the year.  This is a big event where they hire a DJ to play every song grade school kids love at very high volumes.  To tweak the ambiance of the soccer field (where the dance is held) they also flash a couple of colored lights for "ambiance."  This event is not the highlight of Dad's year.  I basically stand off on the side and hold things for the kid and wife (last year this included two purses!) and then hand out money left and right to buy little trinkets that either incorporate glow sticks or little tiny flashing lights in some way.  Of course, this is much better than the alternative. The alternative in this case is dancing with the kids.  Did I mention that this event is not the highlight of Dad's year?

That's when my creative genius kicked in (being a creative genius is one of my many hobbies) and I devised another alternative...an alternate alternative.  That alternative was that I would stay home, while my wife (who enjoys dancing and otherwise acting childish) goes with my little angels and I stay home and work on something more serious and manly.  I was thinking of something that involved Mario and Nintendo in some way.

Unfortunately, my wife seemed to be sharing in my creative genius hobby because a few days before the dance she mysteriously started feeling "bad" in some general, non-specific way.  How could I combat this?  By the day of the dance, she was exhausted all the time, had a runny nose, and was generally grumpy.   

I wasn't buying it.

I knew creative genius in action when I saw it and this was creative genius.  Now, I wasn't doubting that she was sick...that would be far too easy to see through.  I was certain she was sick.  I was certain she made herself sick.   I had no trouble envisioning her spending the week before the week of the dance (viruses take a little bit of time to take hold of you, ya' know!) volunteering at an infectious disease clinic, dousing herself with water and standing in the open refrigerator door until catching a chill (I know, just being cold isn't supposed to make you sick, but creative genius leaves no stone unturned!), or diving in trashcans and collecting used tissues.   

Now, in case you think diving in trashcans is going too far, we were once at the ballgame in my company's suite and she was diving the trashcans looking for tab-tops for my daughter's tab-top collection effort for Ronald McDonald house.  I could just imagine the people at work the next day saying, "So, how's the little dumpster-diver?"  Fortunately, they too absorbed in either the game or the free nacho buffet to notice.

The point is, getting back to the story, I was going to be taking the kidlets, my little angels, to the school dance ALL BY MYSELF.  This was not an alternative I had thought of!

The dance was only two hours.  I could do this.  My wife, who was now deathly ill, had spent about 30 minutes doing their hair.  Naturally, the little one's hair had to closely resemble the older one's hair.  I had them get in the car and drove to my doom...er...their school.  It was then that I realized that my dog need food.  This was serious, my little brown dog cannot be without food!  People go to jail for less!  I told my daughters I would drop them off and be right back.  By the time I returned from the pet store, only 90 minutes of the dance remained.  I could do this.

Since it was now STORMING outside, the dance had been wisely moved inside the gym.  The lights were out and the goofy DJ lights actually looked pretty good in there, reflecting off the floor.  At least photo opportunities seemed to be about!  I looked around and noticed clusters of parents grouped around the exits and down hallways...about as far from the action as they could be and still be considered "at the dance."  I was not like that.  I was here for my girls.  I looked around.  I had no idea whatsoever where my girls were!  I also had no idea that the music the grade school kids loved was the Village People and other disco songs.  I thought disco was dead! 

I started taking pictures and due to the fact that I was the only parent in the back of the gym taking pictures, my kids found me in rapid order.  I took about 80 pictures with my little digital point and shoot camera, and actually had fun playing with slow shutter speeds and stuff.  I even took some freaky pictures of my daughters sitting on the floor which made them look like they were floating.  This was cool.   I was going for the effect of them being in focus and everyone being a blur around them, but never quite pulled it off.  I did like some of the resulting out of focus pictures and pictures of the goofy DJ lights.

All in all, it wasn't a bad night.