The Trifecta

We have three kids and seldom does a day pass when one of them doesn’t provide some material for a potential blog. But occasionally, all three of them make significant contributions. Blogging is part therapy for me. It allows me to take a humorous angle to what might otherwise cause me to heavily medicate: usually with liquids of varying contents of wisdom (alcohol). Ok fine, I will still medicate after blogging.

The day started with a full agenda of service to my little dictators. The youngest, a boy, had school, a dental appointment where he would have a tooth pulled, and then soccer. The next oldest, a girl, had school, and then a band event that is at the same time as youngest dictator’s soccer. The oldest, another girl, doesn’t live with us, but made an impromptu visit. A full, but pleasant day. Oh how naive I am?

The oldest biked over, raided the fridge and cabinets for food. Teens must only eat and do laundry when they visit their parents. One might expect an adult to clean up after themselves. One would be sorely mistaken. She left mostly empty soda bottles in the formal room, food containers on the counter, and clothes strewn around the house. Don’t even ask about how she managed to dirty up the car during a ten minute ride back home…..seriously, don’t ask.

The next oldest daughter recently dented up another flute. This is the new one we bought six months ago to replace the last dinged up flute. We took it to the shop to get repaired….again. We had to rent a loaner because of the aforementioned band event. Ten minutes before leaving for the band event, she informed us that she left the loaner on the bus. She asked us to drive her across town to borrow one from a classmate. As if!

This morning while in the bathroom getting ready, somebody started pounding on my door like Guido collecting his ‘protection money’ from poor Mario the baker in Jersey.

“You better give me my money,” says Guido.

“What money,” I ask.

“My money. It better be under my pillow when I get home from school.” It was the eight-year-old boy.

“Why do I need to give you money?”

“For my tooth. I need money for my tooth. I know you’re the tooth fairy,” says he.

I have lost control. I previously posted that our life is not our own after we have kids. I was recently corrected that our life never was our own, but when we have kids, they remind us of this.

My life is chaos I tell you.

Parents are problem solvers. I decided the following:

  • Have car cleaned…mail bill to teen
  • Rent another loaner….mail bill to teen II
  • Leave a dime under Guido’s pillow, like I did to the waitress who spilled coffee in my lap

Stay tuned for future episodes of “They’re Trying to Kill Me.”


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