16 August 2007

iSuck

I have been failing as a father this summer. My patience, never a strong suit of mine, has been worn paper thin. My 3 1/2 year old is pushing her boundaries, testing her parents, not sleeping well, being lazy when it comes to using the bathroom (meaning she pees a bit in her undies before meandering into the john - every.single.time.) and countless other standard-issue toddler behaviors. I am losing my cool at home on a daily basis and it I feel like crap about it. Thing is, I know, in my right mind, what to do and how to react to these mini-meltdowns, contrived tears and such but the short-fused adult takes over before the calm dad ever has a fighting chance.

I feel like my strong, loving relationship with my daughter could crumble if I do not figure out how to behave well when she is not. And that cannot happen. Not to mention my relationship with the more-mild-mannered Mrs. which has been, um, rocky thanks to my inability to just deal.

Additional, I feel like a fat (that's an 'f' not the considerably more hip 'ph') lazy bum. This is nothing new either, but I have not felt like blogging about such toddler drama or mundane laziness.
Save for sports, football specifically, we are not TV watchers yet over the past couple of months I have had the thing on nightly, mainly to watch the Phillies flounder in an eventually flawed pennant chase. I have noticed a severe drop in the amount of time we spend playing, conversing and generally enjoying each other's company as a result of the amped up TV time.
Certainly this is souring my mood around the house. I feel like when I go to bed, I have wasted an entire night - YET THAT DOESN'T STOP ME FROM TURNING ON THE GAME AGAIN THE NEXT NIGHT! AHHH!!

I just gotta stop it.

Tonight, I am going to try something different, well not different per se - just something more in line with the first 3 years I spent as a father. We are going to do Playdoh, color, paint, run around in our (dry!) underwear, dance through the sprinkler, play Candyland, eat pizza sitting on the floor, put each others hair into crazy shapes and ponytails, and anything else we can think of that doesn't involve the television...at least until the Chiefs preseason game comes on at eight o'clock. Sorry, but it's football (said in an extra whiny voice).

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