After a (another) long hiatus, a bulk collection of the parenting notes returns.
This week, I discuss kids and chores, my life as a short-order cook, my new podcast and cleaning up the kid’s room.
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Parenting Note #646
Leaves pile against the curb and make parallel parking tricky.
There’s time to kill before their mom gets home from work. I’m raking the leaves down the street and into the kneecap height pile dividing parking spots.
“Can I help?” the 6-year-old asks, avoiding homework.
She clears modest sections of blacktop, dragging the rake in a straight line, stopping only to make sure I’m watching with an approving face.
“Let me do some,” demands the 9-year-old, ninja swords strapped to his back.
There are two children and one rake, and this makes for a complicated math problem.
The 6-year-old continues, hearing but choosing to ignore the request. The 9-year-old retreats to the garage, reappearing with a broom.
“I want to use the broom!” booms the youngest, now the one being ignored.
The bickering goes on for ten minutes, with cleanup tools being handing back and forth, neither kid ever using the device he or she wants at that moment.
The fighting is so loud leaves fall prematurely.
The entire area is cleared in no time, and the kids turn to find I’m nowhere in sight.
The foreman never sticks around.
Parenting Note #647
With my luck, they’ll probably call the second dinner delicious.
Parenting Note #648
I’m lining up some great guests.
If you’d like to be on the show, let me know by not talking to me.
Parenting Note #649
The library opens at 9am. I arrive a half-hour early.
Walking all the way back to the car is pointless.
The cafe in the library lobby opens at 8am. There are tables, chairs, and stools around a bar in an area reserved for cafe customers only. My cheaper coffee from a spot in town isn’t welcome in this area.
So I set up shop in a corner, grabbing a small square of linoleum, and start work for the day.
I lose track of time, and the library gates open.
While I’m up working, my lower body nods off.
It’s giving me more trouble waking than my kids on any school day.
The only thing worse than attempting to stand up is having other people ask if you need help.
“Do you need help, it looks like you’re struggling.”
“I’m fine. My ass is asleep, and my legs forgot their primary objective, but overall, I’m fine. Just leave me here. If you need to lock the place up, I’ll find my way out.”
“Sir, the library just opened.”
“Great, that will give me at least 10 hours to roll over onto my stomach and push myself up.”
Parenting Note #650
I’m just kidding.
He’s going to have SO MANY OTHER THINGS to tell his therapist about me.
For example, “my dad told everyone about my childhood using post-it notes.”
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These are great! I’m totally down for an hour long podcast featuring silence.