I’m never sure how people manage to create “free time.” In order to obtain those precious moments, I spend days planning. Schedules must be rearranged, chores must go undone (or be done in a haphazard, move as fast as I can to make it look like it’s clean even if I have to hide stuff in the closet, fashion) and other activities and/or people must be put off to another time.
Just the other day, while I was scrubbing the inside of a toilet bowl, my husband found a few spare moments to play a game with our daughter. Mind you, I’m not complaining. The man works like 6,000 a week and often goes days without more than a “good-night” passing between him and the kids. And our daughter is homeschooling again this year so her social interactions have decreased pretty dramatically. I mean, I’m glad she’s having so much fun making pom-pom pets, but I’m a little afraid she might be making a yarn-chicken army to surpress the American Girl uprising.
So seeing dad and daughter find a little quality, one-on-one time is a good thing. Having a strong and present father is so instrumental in the lives of all children. Particularly with a tween girl, I find a positive relationship with the man who gave her life, sets the bar for all men who may come later. A father is a little girl’s first love and biggest champion. He is her rock and their bond warms my heart.
As long as you don’t listen to them. For even one minute. Because then you’d probably call CPS.
I’ve mentioned before that board games are not a good option in our house. Full blown wars can break out over the simple act of choosing a game, never mind trying to play. Let’s just say that most family game nights end in family-needs-therapy nights. There is indignation, screaming, accusations and, ultimately, tears. But for some reason, we keep trying.
On this particular afternoon, the game of choice was Yahtzee. If you’re not familiar with this classic dice game, let me give you a brief synopsis. You have several categories of dice combinations that you must obtain (full house, four of a kind, etc.). You are given several opportunities to accomplish these goals. If you fail, you must accept a zero score in the assigned column. There are five dice and you shake them three times per turn, in a plastic cup that makes a sound sort of like a blender filled with dried bones and rocks. And there are twelve categories, making for a minimum of 72 rolls. So right off the bat, they’ve set you up for failure. Not in the game, but as a parent.
Add to this situation two people who share genetics, but are otherwise completely dissimilar. Where dad is practical, daughter is whimsical. Where dad is calm, daughter is wildly emotional. Where dad is a quick and decisive decision maker, daughter likes to consider all her options and discuss them aloud, often vacillating between several choices for a painfully long time, without an end in sight.
They are also both insanely competitive. There is no, “I’ll just let her win,” with my husband and his children. And my daughter is not afraid to use all of her manipulative cuteness to play her father. “It’s so hard to lose when I know I’ve tried my best.” This doesn’t even make him blink, “Looks like your best isn’t enough to win.” There is no melting his ice cold heart when it comes to competition.
So it was without surprise that as I wiped down the bathroom counter, I overheard my husband, the man who I married (voluntarily) and with whom I bore children, say to his little girl, “Roll the dice now or I will execute you.”
Nor was it shocking to hear my wee angel follow her exclamation of, “Yahtzee!” with, “Loser! You just got schooled by a middle schooler!” There was even accompanying signage, made colorfully and with flourish, broadcasting his failure.
Some fathers may have seen this as an opportunity to teach their budding lunatic the value of good sportsmanship, of treating your opponent with respect and acknowledging their hard work and willingness to try. Or, a father could look into the eyes of his darling child and say, “Give me the dice. Next round, I will crush your soul.”
I’m not all that convinced that we should own board games. Or that we should be raising children. But, that ship has sailed so let’s just hope the residual emotional wounds will heal without too much professional help.
At least I know that while my husband is damaging her soul, my toilet bowl cleaner won’t physically harm her. There are all sorts of non-toxic toilet bowl cleaners out there, but you can also make your own for super cheap. I like this recipe from mymerrymessylife.com because I always have the ingredients in the house.
Natural toilet bowl cleaner recipe
¼ cup liquid Castile soap
1 ¾ cup water
2 tablespoons baking soda
8-10 drops of essential oils
Mix all ingredients in a 16 oz. or larger squirt bottle and gently shake or swish.
Squirt in the toilet bowl and use a brush to scrub it clean. If I hum while I scrub, sometimes I can even drown out the verbal warfare occurring at my dining room table.
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.
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