Another Saturday

Saturdays stress me out. With Melissa gone to work all day, it's just me and the demolition team and what a mess it usually turns into. Whoever said that having two kids was easier than one was smoking something good in their pipe. Too bad I don't have some for tomorrow.

Back to the two kids is easier than one. I figured this second kid thing would be cake. Cambrie was a little over two and I have tamed her. Melissa thinks Cambrie has tamed me, but I know who the master of my castle is. It's Cambrie, and learning that was the key. Once I learned to give into her demands my Saturdays became holidays. It was quite an easy concept actually; let her do whatever she wants, and I can do whatever I want. We had a good thing going...and then the stork came.

Now don't think Zane was a bad thing because that isn't the case at all. It's just taking a little longer than expected to get the yin and the yang back in the same circle. I should have seen it coming though...about two weeks after Zane came home.

Melissa's friends all showed up to see Zane one afternoon and while they chatted I took Cambrie into the other room to do a little cleaning. Things were going fine until Melissa called from the other room and said that Zane needed to be changed. As I got up to go grab him Cambrie started to cry. She didn't want her daddy to leave, even if I was coming right back. Like a good soldier, I knew my duty and pressed on; leaving Cambrie behind in a pool of tears. I grabbed Zane and made my way back to his room where Cambrie was in a full blown frenzy. Babies must have something against someone else crying because the minute we walked through the door it was like bad dueling pianos with each kid trying to out cry the other and neither were on pitch. It was awful. In fact, I’m now crying as I type.

Anyway, I laid Zane down on the changing table and yanked off his diaper while trying to shake Cambrie from the death grip she had on my leg. No need for a tourniquet if I ever sever a limb or artery, I’ll just let her squeeze. The crying continued, the shaking continued, my leg turned a deep purple, and for a moment I wished I had shot the stork (no, I am not referring to my wife). It was at that moment that God decided to be a comedian, or he chastised me for wanting to shoot the stork, I’m not sure which. Anyhow, Zane started to pee. And not a dribble pee, but a full-on spring run-off with class five rapids pee. I didn’t know what to do. It was hitting the wall and ricocheting all over the room and I had one child with a death grip on my leg, one of my hands trying to pry open the death grip, another hand trying to wipe a bum, and the two kids combined trying to shatter the sound barrier with their screams. So I dropped the wipe and put my hand in front of the river. There I was, standing in a room with two out of control kids, blocking a pee stream with my hand. That was what my life had turned into.

I cleaned up the pee, got the kids calmed down, and handed them off to Melissa. Then I took a shower and resolved to join a monastery. They were all full though, and I'm still here. I somehow survived and that’s what will happen tomorrow; I’ll survive another Saturday.