Lighter Side of Parenting

These bedbugs pack a punch!

I awoke the other morning with a dull ache in my nether region, the bit of geography typically hidden by a loin cloth or fig leaf - at least in story books. I've never seen either of these for sale at Walmart or Winners.
Being the pessimistic hypochondriac that I am (a deadly combination), I thought I pulled something or gave myself a hernia carrying the nine-year-old bag of cement to his bed the night before. Alas, he, too, appeared in our bed - and he was still there!
Our youngest daughter had already vacated her new part-time roost in our king-size bed, whisked away by my better half to early morning day care where there are no king-size beds to be found anywhere. She made an impression, not only upon the mattress, but yours truly.
Hernia? I think not! My senses of deductive reasoning, honed to a razor-sharp edge by years of covert parenting, pointed me in the direction of my kids - those who sneak into the bed in the wee hours to inflict pain and suffering upon those who raised them. The ball of a tiny foot; the boomerang-like elbow; the sledgehammer-like chin and even the blunt, rock-solid forehead become a tiny tot arsenal. When such weapons descend upon the aforementioned nether regions, anarchy reigns and devastation ensues.
Fathers reading this may have already winced once or twice, or may still be cringing at the thought. Mothers reading this, on the other hand, are likely smiling or even chuckling out loud, thinking the male parental units deserve such wrath. They may be right - they usually are!
But where's the nocturnal peace and serenity I was promised? How have I allowed to happen?
We have made beautiful, nicely appointed bedrooms for our offspring - nicer than the lumpy single bed and desk I had in my tiny room during my formative years. They are brightly coloured, filled with really cool accessories, mobiles, shelves, even action figures and portraits of Disney princesses.
The adult bedroom has none of these. Okay, I do have a few knick-knacks and some model airplanes flying about, but that's it, I swear! Our retreat, bright and airy with heavy wood furniture, is no place for children! That's why there's a lock on the door!
Maybe they like the Sony TV, DVD player or fact they can stretch out on the carpet with their colouring books, Barbies, Star Wars figures and Transformers. But can't they do that in their own rooms, surrounded by their own stuff? My son has a Wii. My eldest has an iPod and my youngest a cool looking vanity. What more could they want? What will it take to make them stay put?
As one of our physicians often told us, the kids won't have these habits by the time they're walking down the aisle. True enough. And if you think about it, what's the harm if they want a few more minutes of shut-eye, cuddled up next to their mom or dad? There are times I cherish these moments and never want them to end.
And then the alarm goes off, shattering my peace. And the days turn to weeks, turn to months. Birthdays come and go, hundreds of candles are lit and extinguished. Before you know it, you'll be feeling the empty space next to you, wondering what became of your little bedbugs!

The Lighter Side of Parenting

Love them, but be very afraid

I'm adamant that our little offspring aren't really "people" at all in the true sense. They're an anomoly; a strange gift from above to be sure, but they're so out of place in this world, it's quite enigmatic.
In recent months, I've looked into their little, absorbing eyes and discovered we can learn a lot from these other-worldly creatures. The thought did cross my mind they're actually planted here by aliens, sent to study us and look for weakness. Good plan.
Sure, they're "fruits of our loins" (ick), but they seem to be anti-humans - they think, act and speak in the exact opposite of their parental units and adult figures. They live to contradict everything we hold dear, almost questioning our fundamental beliefs in democracy, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They make us feel good, but they also have the keen ability to make us feel like crud.
Okay, they're really not that bad. Or are they?
If you look at these smallish human creatures, the differences are apparent.
Their sponge-like big heads are perched precariously on awkward, little bodies. Their eyes dart, roll around in their sockets, looking for a target to hone-in on. Like some high-tech military targeting system, they scan the perimeter, find something or someone new and interesting and burn a hole in their subject with laser-like beams from their eyes.
Moments after this deliberate seek-and-destroy mission, their attention fades and they become preoccupied with a bodily function or something shiny in another kid's hair. Then they band together and engage in a sort of gnat-picking ritual, like our simian cousins.
Evolution, it seems, is an ongoing process, something that has to be revisited with each generation.
They can transform a room from a peaceful haven of shapes, colours and crafts into a reinactment of some Asian parliament, minus the bad words and shoe-throwing.
They go through their days void of rules, regulations, tact and diplomacy. We give them some rope, not wanting to burst their bubbles. But I'm convinced it's all part of some grandiose plot to overthrow us.
Perhaps, when the parents are all asleep, the secret agency in charge of our young send them telepathic messages - the next day's marching orders. If you think about it, what better way to unravel the very fabric of western society than to defeat parents on their home turf, in subtle, covert ways that whittle away at our fortitude. Wear us down and we become unproductive workers, fall asleep at the wheel and make bad fashion choices. Our kids can have us eating out of their hands in no time, without a shot ever being fired!
A massive conspiracy to be sure.
We must be diligent, as adults, to make sure these lovable wee ones don't usurp the very foundations of our adult-rule society.
Sleep with one eye open, I say! And it doesn't hurt to have a clown puppet or marionette handy - these scare the bejesus out of kids.
They're very good at concealing their true mission, of course, often appealing to our softer sides.
When my son asks why weekends are so short, I smile, but I'm on to him. Sure, they'd love if it we extended weekends and shortened the work week - so they can overthrow us by reducing our economic output.
I toss out a nugget to confuse him. I tell him hot dogs are made from inedible pig parts, the lips of fowl and the wrong ends of amphibians. This derails him momentarily.
He then asks me if I ever jumped out of an airplane, secretly gathering intelligence to see if I'd make a good paratrooper. I tell him I would, but I'd be shrieking like a baby until my chute opened. He got the better of me with that one.
At the dinner table, I tell him most would-be astronauts love broccoli and Brussels sprouts and they always do their homework. He succumbs, reluctantly. Chalk up another victory for the good guys!
Their suspicious nature continues into the night.
When the lights dim at bedtime and they're snuggled beneath comfy sheets, they listen intently about the "Wild Things" and whether they'd eat "green eggs and ham" with a fox. They smile, wrap their tiny hands around a big finger or thumb, anxiously awaiting the end of the story.
And then they fall asleep, in an almost angelic fashion.
Boy are they good!
The tiny ones are cute, cuddly and make us feel warm and fuzzy inside. But don't let down your guard; it's all just a ploy. Even our preschoolers have a master plan to suck us in, and then blind-side us.
My youngest walks around the house, jotting down notes to herself on any scrap of paper she can find. The adult brain can't decipher the secret code, but I'm sure she's amassing detailed information about us and then passing it on to the powers that be.
These child-like tape recorders also have a habit of throwing our own statements back at us, and putting mom and dad at odds, in their quest to divide and conquer.
My eldest has become quite the insurgent. She tests us with her homework questions, trying to find weakness in the school system and further weakness in her parents' gray matter. But I'm one step ahead of her and give her more information than she can handle. I even presented her with a brain teaser to confuse her co-conspirators. I told her a circle actually has two sides - inside and outside.
I have found that if you befuddle them often enough, you're one step closer to pinning their shoulders on the mat.
So, fellow parents, our work here is far from done. This is one war we just have to win. The world as we know it is at stake!
© Mark Pavilons 2009