I'm a dad... father, parent, paternal role-model, masculine guardian. Ah, heck, who am I kidding? I'm in over my head. Jackie's had almost nineteen years practice being a parent. I've been here for eight months and I think my sanity is somewhere between the soda stains in the carpet and the unexplainable holes in the kids' bedroom door. How do single parents manage this madness without drooling into emesis basins for the rest of their lives? Honestly. How do you explain to a nine year old that it's not okay to hold the kitten while she eats breakfast? Or explain to a thirteen year old why she shouldn't be watching scary movies at midnight and keeping her little sister awake? Or, better still, try and tell the eighteen year old that her boyfriend needs, at least, four or five hours of sleep before he goes to work for twelve hours?
I'm not looking for sympathy, here, I'm looking for answers. I know that being a parent is a daily effort to deal with even the most obvious tasks. I'm fully aware that no one is an expert at being a parent. How can anyone be an expert when kids are individuals that are unpredictable, irrational and subject to change without notice? Every day I am challenged in so many ways. I need to have a PhD in every major science. For example...
Psychology: The thirteen year old goes to see The Grudge with her best friend, who's seventeen, and now can't sleep without the light on. It wouldn't be so much of a problem if the nine year old, who sleeps in the same room, didn't have a problem with the light. Now we have to find a way to explain to the thirteen year old that it's just a movie and that the moewing she hears outside her bedroom door is just the kitten feeling lonely and not the disembodied spirit of a murder victim trying to get in and suck out her soul.
Sociology: I live in a house full of women. I never understood, before, how important it is to establish the absolute ownership and subsequent rights to an article of clothing. I have been witness to the fury that borrowing a pair of shoes or a t-shirt without asking can cause. It's like watching Israel and Palestine fight over the Gaza Strip. The item was originally owned by one but given to the other because it, apparently, didn't fit. Now the original owner claims that it was merely a loan and wants it returned. However, there's a dispute because the borrower loaned another article to the original owner that was damaged during the rental period. This starts a "tit for tat" exchange that escalates into one trying to intentionally prevent the other from getting their item back by causing damage to something else they own. Eventually, all items involved become unusable by anyone and the real bloodshed begins with shouts of "I hate you" and "That's not fair!" About that time the UM (United Mom) shows up to mediate and put both parties on notice.
Mathematics: We have three computers but only two seem to be fast enough and powerful enough to satisfy the advanced users living here. This one is entirely my fault, I'll admit. I'm an übergeek and brought with me the knowledge and resources to set up a wireless network on the DSL, resurrect an old 400 Mhz laptop and keep everything working. However, the mathematical problem is this. We have two computers that all five users want access to. Jackie and I both need to work on our computers during the day while the kids do their school work. Except that we have them using an online math system that cuts into that time. Now, the actual time that the other three users demand is limited to the evening hours. However, one computer doesn't currently have speakers so can't be used for the games that they want to run. We also have to add the eighteen year old's boyfriend who doesn't have a working monitor at home, at the moment, and needs to check his e-mail. That means that 2x - 1x * 6h = 2p + 3y + 1b. So, if you want to solve for h the solution is, uh, eliminating the unknown variable, er, power outage, um, 1y is grounded this week, eh, bedtime, oh hell... I think I have some sticks and rocks to play with.
Engineering: You'd think that three kids would be able to organize their wardrobes and possessions into two dressers, two shelving units, one closet, a bathroom and a linen cabinet without too much inter-mingling and the loss of items, wouldn't you? Oh no, every time the forced purging, cleaning and organizing process begins items once thought irrevocably lost are found and fought over. The lines of occupation and possession have to be redrawn, argued about and brought before the zoning commission, otherwise known as Mom and Jodie. We then have to remind them who owns what, where it goes, why it shouldn't be left in the bathtub or the middle of the living room and find out who borrowed it and left it on the floor where one of the cats used it instead of the litter box.
I don't know why these things aren't required study for anyone having kids. We have to be security, social services, financial consultants, educational administrators, medical personnel, fashion police, nutrition experts, behavioral counselors and a host of other roles that not one of us is qualified to get a job doing out in the world at large. But here, in our private domain, we're kings and queens, dictators that have to learn to rule with compassion and constantly admit that we're out of our league, out of our minds and crazy enough to keep doing it, every day.
They're going to read this, eventually, so I just want to say, "I love you, girls, each one of you, and you make my life worthwhile. Now stop sticking your tongue out at your sister and be nice."
