Friday, February 20, 2009

Diary of a Single Father - Day 3

Dear Diary,
The end of my tribulations has arrived! My salvation came riding to the homestead on a steed named Cocoa! Smiles and hugs were distributed all around and then within minutes the children were finding issues to proclaim their displeasure about. Oh, but the tenuousness of dealing with such fuss-filled outbursts is nothing when the burden is split in two! Before the children went to their nightly rest, we all clamored and crowded together and took our photo. The protruding tongues is to indicate the jocular nature in which the picture was taken.

And with that, I end my diary of single fatherhood, hoping never again to have to repeat this most torturous of experiments!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Diary of a Single Father - Day 2

Dear Diary,
After a dinner of leftover lasagna, carrot sticks, blackberries, potato salad, and laffy taffy, I was cleaning up in the kitchen. The children were making a lot of ruckus in the living quarters and so I went to investigate for fear of shenanigans. When I arrived, the miniature hooligans were putting the finishing touches on their own stronghold. With my photographing device, I was able to capture an image of my daughter crawling in through the only entrance.

They undoubtedly thought their fort impregnable. Little did they know that I considered it the Bastille and me the French citizenry - their fortress would fall. I decided to start off stern but fair and so I informed them that the immediate surrender of their holdings would result in no formal punishment. No proper response was issued, but I understood the rebuke nonetheless. My son stared at me through a pair of binoculars as if to say "Do your worst, father, you shan't move us from this place without a fight!"

I realized that I could not hope to assault the walls they had crafted and come away unscathed, and so I opted for trickery rather than force. By making it sound as joyful as flying a kite on a warm summer afternoon, I lured them out by promising that they could help me finish cleaning a urine soaked davenport cushion. The offending cushions were supposed to be drying out after being washed, but were not completing their task hastily enough for me. I put boots on my night-clothed son and my pants-less daughter and bade them walk merrily on the cushions while strategically placed toweling cloths were on hand to soak up the evacuating moisture.

After the task was completed, I commanded the rug-rats to remove their boots and retire to their sleeping chambers. They boldly disobeyed by dancing a haughty jig for nearly a minute.

Nearing my own exhaustion, the children are finally squared away until sunrise. I will, myself, now retire for the night. My loving wife is set to return to me tomorrow. I look forward to abating my constant vigilance over my brood and once again sharing the responsibility.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Diary of a Single Father - Day 1

Dear Diary,
Oh what unforeseen but joyous change of fortune has befallen me!? My fearful blathering of yestereve has proven to be fully without merit! Not only were my offspring amicable, but the oldest was voluntarily helpful at times. 'Twasn't all peach cobbler though. When I arrived to receive my children back from their day-sitter, my son had a most cantankerous attitude! Thankfully, this illogical display of negativity was short-lived. After arriving home we had but mere minutes to ingest some semblance of a meal before my dear daughter was in need of being rushed to her dancing lessons. Back at home, the small one went to bed with blown kisses and promises to dream of his father. My stomach was then reminding me that the food I ate prior to the dance lesson could hardly be called a meal. I informed my oldest that I hungered for more nourishment and she responded likewise. She started with cookies, finished with cheese and crackers, and found the time in between to scold me for perching on the table. Just like her sibling, she went to bed without a hitch and left me to my own devices. Despite the surprisingly pleasant evening, my inner paranoia-laden self is screaming, "The little ones are preparing something hideous for you! Give them no quarter and show them no mercy!" I shall now retire for the night to my own bed, as cold and empty as it is.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Diary of a Single Father - Day 0

Dear Diary,
My wife is leaving me. She says she'll be back and I have no reason to doubt her, but... I just don't know. She's gone to this same school counseling conference the last few years and every time she's taken the kids with her (or just the one, before the other one was born) and every time she's come back. But this time feels different. Now she's going and leaving me with both children. Two of them. With me. For three days. Both kids. Right now she's asleep on the couch. Resting up for her big first day of three away from home, sans family. I'm still awake at three-quarters of an hour until midnight, fretting over what tomorrow will bring, hoping against all that is good in this world that I'll somehow prevail against the forces acting against me, the forces that I will stand against, solely, on the morrow. I fear I will have a restless slumber tonight, dreaming of small hands temporarily idle, awaiting to be used as the devil's tools. I, as the angel of their existence, must not cower before them. I shall keep my head high and my spirits aloft. I tell myself these things, Diary, but do I believe them? When the hour arrives for me to show proof of such strength, will said spirits be there when I need them? Will my constitution hold or will I be shivering in the corner, harboring my soul from the terrors that await it. This, dearest Dairy, is the question that I'll be faced with sooner than I would care to imagine.