Screaming Goldfish

I wanted to post this anecdote Saturday night. It’s Monday and I think I am far enough removed from the event enough to write it objectively. Probably not, though. You’ll be shocked to find out that Casey threw a full blown conniption fit. It was one of her best. If her fit were a college football game, it would be an instant classic. It all started b/c we were invited to a birthday party for the 3 year old son of one of Corey’s co-workers. I say we…but let’s be honest, we all know that were it not for those 3 little angels, we wouldn’t have been invited to spend a Saturday night fighting 4 to 9 year olds for prize tickets at Chuck E Cheese. Truth be known, we were used for our kids. It happens all the time and it happens to all of us. You know what I am talking about. We are ALL guilty of it. Parents invite their friends that have kids to their kid’s birthday party. Nevermind that the kids don’t anymore know each other than they know who the New Kids On The Block are. And it doesn’t matter if the kids are boy or girl, black or white, rich or poor, ugly or cute (you know you were thinking it). As long as your kids are within a 5 year age range of the birthday child, you get invited. They want their kids to feel like they have a bunch of new friends who all of the sudden care that it is their birthday. But the kids don’t care. They are just there for the cake and ice cream. And party favors (If you want to really piss the parents off who you invite to the party, give away Goldfish as party favors. Thanks Jenee). So, as you could expect, we are in high demand. People need us....err our 3 kids. We raise the friend tally by 3 when we walk in the door. (And the noise level by at least 3 decibels.)

But that is not why I had to wait at least 48 hours to publicly record what took place at 1310 Canadian Street. No, that honor goes to sweet little Casey. Big surprise, huh? From the moment she woke up from her nap on Saturday afternoon, she was unbearable. And that’s putting it lightly. Nothing would satisfy her. She didn’t want anything to do with anybody. She didn’t want anybody talking to her. She didn’t want anybody looking at her. She didn’t want anybody even THINKING about looking at her. It got to a point, I had enough. I told her that if she didn’t stop acting the way she was, she was NOT going to the party (which would mean I would get to stay home with her, and while we’re being candid, I didn’t really want to go to that freaking party anyway. And, at this point, it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon and the party wasn’t until 6. So I liked my chances.). Well just the sheer mention of the possibility of her not getting to go completely set her off. She started jumping and stomping and yelling, “I WANT TO GO TO THE PARTY.” As you can see, my motivational tactics are brilliant! Very influential. My words are so profound…okay so I scrap the motivational ploy and resort to physical violence. I snatch her up and spank her. I know it was effective b/c it was one of those cries where her mouth was open, her eyes were closed and her face turned Razorback red, but nothing came out of her mouth. You know the one. The hesitation cry. You know it’s coming, it just takes a second. The calm before the storm. Then all hell breaks loose and every dog in the neighborhood starts howling and yelling in response…or maybe its capitulation. Anyway, she went to her room and calmed down eventually. The time comes to get ready to leave and Corey is getting her ready. Corey asked Casey to put her shoes on. All of the sudden, she became completely incapable of putting on a pair of shoes and let everyone in ear shot know she was not going to even try. The simple phrase, “I CAN’T!!” has become a source of content for me around our house. And she apparently likes to content me (whatever that means). Well that was it. She was not going to the party. I could have cut her right arm off without any anesthetic and she wouldn’t have screamed any louder than when I told her she wasn’t going. I didn’t really care. I have a high tolerance for ear-piercing bawling if it is a result of me depriving one of my children of joy. You know me, I just love torturing my children. Nothing gets me more excited. I love it. (You picked up on the sarcasm yet?) Well Corey, Baylie and Drew were in the car and ready to go. Corey looks at Baylie and she is in tears. The big fat alligator variety. Baylie cannot stand that she is going to the party and that Casey is upset, in trouble and not going. So Corey starts crying. Baylie starts getting out and says she doesn’t want to go to the party and Corey starts to follow her. All the while, Drew is in the back seat, still buckled and waiting patiently. He looks at Corey and says, “Do I have to go inside?”(Someone said something about cake and ice cream and party favors and Chuck E Cheese. He didn’t care who was going and who was staying-or whose party it was, for that matter. If he had to drive himself, he was going to that party!) When Baylie came in, I convinced her it was her duty as a big sister to go to the party and show Casey that you get rewarded for being good. So off they went. Casey went nuts when they left again, but after about 5 minutes, she was fine. We sat and watched a movie and ate pretzels and drank chocolate milk. It was a pretty enjoyable evening. About half way through the movie, she turned to me and said, “Daddy, I was being a bad girl so I didn’t get to go to the party. Next time I am going to be a good girl so I can go to the party.” Praise Jesus!! She can be cute and precious when she wants to be. At some point though, she’s gonna realize that she is not gonna get her way. She’ll learn eventually that it ends with me winning. Always. And the sooner she figures that out, the better off we will ALL be.

Tis The Season?!

4:59:54, :55, :56, :57, :58, :59…..5:00 am!! The Wal-Mart sales associates tear off the black cling wrap and all hell breaks loose. Imagine, if you weren’t there (and some of you probably were), grown men and women pushing and shoving each other to grab handfuls of anything from $2 DVDs to a $299 Nintendo Wii, Digital photo frames and 4gb flash drives. There was yelling and screaming and I swear I saw a sales associate get swallowed by a sea of angry women fighting over $4 children’s sweat suits. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn there were free crack rocks at the bottom of the product displays. This was my first Black Friday (why do we capitalize it like it is an official nationally observed holiday) experience so I was somewhat mesmerized by the insanity that was playing out. Then I remembered that we were there with a list and on a mission and it wasn’t to be a spectator in this fight for parent of the year. So I took a deep breath, made sure I had good traction with my shoes, told Corey to cover me and I went in. I could see the pile of Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos dwindling by the millisecond. There was no time for timidity. I dove in and got what I went for, along with some things I didn’t want; namely an elbow to the ribcage, a smashed foot and a glare that would burn a hole through double pane glass from a lady who didn’t even want one of those stupid Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos! It was absolutely nuts. I’m sure most of you heard about the Wal-Mart associate in New York who was trampled to death from, quote “out-of-control” shoppers (Talk about your all time understatements). What was the most disheartening about the whole scenario was that one of the shoppers was belligerent and furious and refused to leave when the store announced it was closing because of the death. She must have been that woman by the Hanna Montana guitars’ cousin.

Don’t ask why I went. It’s irrelevant. It really doesn’t matter. Really. OKAY!! I’ll tell you. Why else would I get up at 3 in the morning to be at Kohl’s by 4, Wal-Mart by 5, Home Depot by 6 and Target immediately following? Just to get a list of gifts so we could save $250 and lose valuable sleep that takes 4 days to recover from? Why? You know why! So at 6:30 on Christmas morning our children can run down the stairs with sleepy in their eyes and giddiness in their hearts. So they can turn the corner and experience pure unadulterated joy because some arthritic fat guy in a red suit landed 8 reindeer on our roof, somehow fit down our narrow soot covered chimney without setting off the alarm, ate all the rice krispie treats and drank the room temperature milk, managed to not make a sound while he left presents under the tree and left in the blink of an eye. I can just see it now. They will be so excited they won’t be able to see straight. They won’t be able to stop talking about what “Santa” brought them. They will want to rip into every one of their toys and play with them like it is the last toy on earth. They’ll run to their stockings and dump them out on the floor and rummage through the candy and rinky-dink toys “Santa” thought they just HAD to have. Then at approximately 6:37 it will all be over and we will be sitting around looking at each other wondering what the crap we do for the next 5 hours until we go to the grandparent’s house and do it all over again! All this hype and build up for about 7 minutes of insanity. I don’t know about you, but I CANNOT wait!

So that’s why I was up at 3 in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving doing my part to put retailers back on the black side of the bottom line. Overall it wasn’t that bad. Corey and I kept a pretty good attitude and had I not been with my wife, I wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time. However, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to any of you. If you can afford to buy your gifts either before or after Black Friday, do it. If you can’t, make a list, map out your plan of attack, stick to your list and attack strategy and invest in an athletic support cup (for the male readers, obviously). And if a stocky lady with short brown hair wearing glasses and a gray sweatshirt gets in your way, watch out, she means business.