Through the woods…

‘Yesterday’ was going oh so well here in Idaho – when it occurred to me that it was not Saturday, and that it was in fact Friday.  My pseudo-vacation that I am on, which seemed so short and sweet, grew by another 24 hours.  I was helping the father in law and brother in law hang Christmas lights on the house and surrounding trees when the realization hit me.  It put me in a sour mood for a while, but I think I got over it.

There I am standing at the base of Mike’s ladder, ready to hand him another strand of icicle lights while we all (me and father in law) teased him a little about not getting to go hunting.  That’s where he was suppose to be right then, but was roped into spending quality family time instead… a.k.a. hanging Christmas lights.  Our womenfolk took the older kids to a movie while Grammy watched Lilly and Simon.

Mike has only gone on two short hunting excursions this season – only a few hours each time.  I would think it would take days to actually score a deer or some other living thing that tastes good – but two years ago he went out and nabbed one in less than an hour.  Score!  Score for him that is, not score for his wife who had to put up with it hanging in her garage for a week-ish.  The three of us all decided that we would start a tradition of going hunting together for a single week long trip, just a guy’s week out.  Not that I have ever hunted.

Ken (father in law) said how much he had been looking to go with Mike, but just hadn’t made the time with getting business in order for the winter months.  We ribbed Mike a little more about being whipped by his wife before he offered to take Ken hunting next Sunday, which would be his own last chance to go this season.  To this Ken replied that there was no way Janie would let him go on that short of notice…!  Then we all laughed at how whipped Ken was too.

I went out this evening before the kids were ready for bed and filled up the van with gas.  I wasn’t going to take any chances with getting out of Dodge in a timely manner in the morning.  I came back with a few caffeinated beverages under my arm for later when I planned on working… you know, now… Shortly after I got them put away K put the kids all to bed and then we sat around the living room and chatted about the parents in laws’ trip tot he east coast a few weeks back.  About an hour into our first real visiting as a collective group, Simon woke up and was calling for attention.  I  decided I would brave the beast at the top of the stairs and calm him down.

I walked in and Simon decided to pitch a larger fit because I was not who he really wanted, K.  This is normal lately however so I had a game plan.  Just let him take a few seconds and realize that this is how it is, and then pick him up and get him back to bed.  Unfortunately for me, I underestimated just how unhappy he was and how much he really DID want his mom.

Now he has slapped me before in his nighttime rage benders before – and normally I am prepared.  Tonight was the first time he did a one-two slap though.  I was ready for the first one on the left side of my head, however the second one to my right cheek was a little stunning.  I set him back down and was ready to wait a little longer.  But he decided that he’d rather kick, scream and do an anti-gravity butt slam on the portable crib base.  THUMP THUMP the crib slammed on the floor – while my daughters slept in the room below.  “This won’t do”, I thought.  So I reached down and grabbed him, fully expecting any of his tricks, though he seemed like he was already calming nicely.  Then… WHAM!  He head-butted me straight in the face!  Hitting my nose and mouth, I set him back down and exclaimed “God Dammit!” while taking a step backwards.  I was feeling my face and lip for blood, feeling that warm salty ouch-you-just-head-butted-me taste in my mouth.  K walks into the room.

I walk down the stairs into the living room where Ken and Janie are watching me intently.  “Did he beat you up?” Ken asked.  “Why would ”you say that?”  Apparently on the other side of the door, not being able to see me handle the boy with care, love and affection, all that could be heard was the screaming, slapping, thumping, thunking, pacing, hitting and then my own exclamation – followed by me coming down the stairs with still-teary eyes.

Everyone has now gone to bed, except for me, who stays up to document my travels and adventures.  And one day my children can look back on these writings and understand just how cool and caring I was as a father.  How full of life I am/was and what I was willing to do for them to put a roof over their head and food in their bellies… and why they still live to that day – because their mother came in and rescued them from me at zero hour.

I’ll be home tomorrow.  Thank you God.

Oh and P.S. – That musket-sized turd that was left in the downstairs bathroom, that I got blamed for – if even out of jest… it wasn’t me!