Not much to report today. All I did was take the Tot to school this morning. He was in his usual great mood. Many thanks to Mama Mia and Big Guy for taking Tate duty this weekend while I play in the DFW Ole Miss Club's Fall Golf Classic watch football on my couch as it rains cats and dogs outside.
So let's hear it for the Dodsons! They're a little old school, but they really love Tate and patiently put up with their daughter's crazy liberal husband. They're good people.
Another pretty good day. Tate and I didn't spend as much quality time together today as I might have liked thanks to the demands of my fantasy football league. Our draft was tonight, so I had to stick to the computer fairly closely for about an hour while I made my crappy selections.
My team, the DFW Mud Islanders, won the championship two years ago. I'll be the first to say it was a fluke, but hey, I got my ring (t-shirt, actually) and they'll never be able to take it away from me. I also got paid -- about $200 -- which means I can basically play for free for the next few years (playing in fantasy leagues does cost actual money, like about $40/year mainly for franchise fees and player transactions, etc.).
Anyway, I wound up depending a little more heavily on television than I normally would. It really just meant that Tate got some bonus Wonder Pets adventures. I didn't hear him complaining. Personally, I think Ming-Ming and Tuck are sharing cages IF you know what I mean. Linny, meanwhile, is clearly gay. But I digress.
We had McDonald's for dinner. I know McD's isn't exactly health food, but he did have apple slices and milk with his nuggets and later had about half of a banana, so it wasn't like I was pouring poison down his throat, either. Again, I didn't hear him complaining.
I would cook -- we have some pasta and some salad and some canned veggies -- but I just don't have the time or inclination to clean up the whole kitchen afterwards (did I mention we're selling our house so I have to keep it spotless? Yeah. Sucks.); I have plenty of cleaning and straightening to do every night as it is.
Meanwhile, Jenny called me from Hawaii today to say that she was eating fresh pineapple on a beach where some villagers were cooking a pig for her. Later -- after the massage -- they were going to throw a virgin into a volcano.
I have to go clean the turds out of the cat box now.
A long day, though. Cute as they may often be, 2-year-olds are high maintenance creatures. At least mine is. Everything is frustratingly close to being not-so-high-maintenance, too, which means I have to maintain a little more self-discipline.
Here's what I mean: A 2-year-old can climb up on a bed, or a chair, or a sofa, and its tempting to think he can get himself down without slipping and clunking his head. You may even be tempted to leave him on said bed, chair or sofa for a few moments to go hang up your shirt.
This would be a poor decision. Two-year-olds can come up with a hundred ways to climb onto something, but invariably arrive at only one way to get down from something: gravity.
A 2-year-old can also practically bathe himself, and is quite comfortable playing with his toys and swirling around in the tub without you messing with him. You may even be tempted to leave him in said tub for a few moments to go get his PJs out for bedtime.
Again, this would be a poor decision. And actually, a really dangerous one. As has been documented by my employer on a number of occasions, a child can drown in an inch of water, and it only takes a few moments (for an interactive guide on drowning prevention, go here).
Before my in-laws have a heart attack -- NO, Tate did NOT have any falling or drowning issues tonight. Not even close. He's fine, I promise. I'm just saying this to illustrate the high level of alertness you have be at at all times with a 2-year-old when you're the only grownup in the house. They are fast, intelligent, and quite capable of lulling you into a sense of security...just before they wonder out of your sight and make a break for the stairs.
This is all to say that after two days I'm pretty tired. It doesn't help that I have to keep the house showroom clean, either. That was not a necessity last time, and it's pain in the ass because I basically have to wait till he's asleep to get the cleaning done.
Still, I did get to spend a lot of time with the Tot tonight. His new thing is making trains. He has no actual trains, mind you -- he just makes them out of anything he can get his hands on; cars, books, cups, raspberries -- whatever. He lines stuff up and then yells "CHOO-CHOOO!" It's cool.
Meanwhile, Jenny is having a rough time of her own in Hawaii. She texted me today to say she had spent the morning snorkeling and swimming with manta rays.
It was only a few months ago that it took her to Mexico. It actually took both of us to Texas. Now it has taken her to Hawaii for nine days (the Hawaiians like to use a little apostrophe when they spell the name of their state, which I find pretentious and will not do here). It will then take her to Washington D.C. one day after she gets back, so I really have about 12 days without her.
That is a looong freakin' time to be a single parent to a 2-year-old, people. Yeah, I know there are plenty of single parents out there who do this every day, yada yada yada. Whatever. It's a long time for me, because -- as has been documented on this blog before -- I typically leave the micromanaging part of parenthood to Jenny. I cut the yard and clean the pool and take out the trash while Jenny does *most* of the diaper-changing, bathing, dressing and general day-to-day maintenance associated with the Tot.
I, on the other hand, play with him a lot. It's a good gig.
Anyway, I'm going to try to keep another running chronicle of all the fun. Last time there was plenty of drama, which I hope to avoid this time around. I have stocked up on Elmo and Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs to keep Tate in a fairly vegetative state for as long as possible on weeknights so I can have time to blog for you. I also have a liter of grape-flavored Benadryl when the DVDs stop working.
Just kidding. It's more like a pint.
Oh, in case you have noticed the time stamp on this post (I started this at about 4:30 a.m. Labor Day morning), I dropped Tate off with his grandparents yesterday before the Ole Miss-Memphis game and watched the game by myself at home, where sometime in the third quarter I fell asleep. I just woke up at about 3 a.m.
Both the Rebels and I have yet to get into mid-season form.
Anyway, I'm picking up Tate later this morning and the fun begins. Lets Do It.
UPDATE: Thank you, Texas, for being so miserably hot that I couldn't take my son outdoors today. With the exception of a short trip to the grocery store, we stayed at the house. Tate has pretty much spent this entire summer indoors, because it so freakishly, stupidly, crazily hot.
My wife's car stays parked in our driveway, exposed, making it all but unusable for any trips shorter than a 20 minute drive because that's about how long it takes her German-engineered air conditioning to finally start to get the cabin cool, even at full blast. So we have to use my car for afternoon trips, which is inconvenient and inefficient (but looks awesome) and just a general pain in the hind quarters.
In other news, Tate was really cute and mostly fun today.