He was already anxious, I knew he needed to go potty even though he refused, and coupled with the extra long wait we had in the waiting room, it was getting to be too much for Thing 3 so he decided he would leave.  He left the dentist’s office and slammed the door.  Then opened it.  Then slammed it.  Then opened it.  The office staff thought it was entertaining.  I was not amused.

In the examining room, he refused to get into the chair.  The kid who loves to watch movies didn’t want to pick a movie that he could watch on the ceiling while lying back in the chair.   He wouldn’t let her floss or brush his teeth.  He finally agreed to sit in my lap while the dentist “counted” his teeth, which is his effective ploy to get a look in his mouth.  All along Thing 3 was saying how “horrible” everything was, and that he wanted to “punch everyone in the face” and “put them in the toilet”.  Luckily those last two were for my ears only before we got there.

Even with little he was able to see of his teeth, the dentist spotted some decay on his front tooth.  Maybe that’s because he is such a willing participant every night when it’s time to brush his teeth.  The dentist wanted him to take an x-ray.  You can imagine how well that went over.  A new room he didn’t want to go into.  A new chair he wouldn’t sit in.

Twenty minutes and a lot of coercing later we had the x-ray results.  There was a spot that would need to be filled either now or as a cavity later.  Considering he never was able to have the cleaning, we may as well do the filling and the cleaning all at once in a future visit where he will need to be sedated for about an hour while they work on him.

Sedation ought to be fun, especially considering his addiction to milk and the fact that he can’t have anything to eat or drink for 6 hours prior.  We’ll likely need to use sedation for all his dentist visits in the future.  And do you know what’s really fun about that?  The not covered by insurance $650 it costs each time.

We made mention of it a couple of times but didn’t make a big deal.  This is Thing 3 after all.  You give him casual notice of change, but do not dwell on it because he will resist the more you talk about it.  When I picked him up at preschool today I told him there was a surprise in his bedroom.  He was excited.

He didn’t get upset when he saw it.  I think he was actually liking it.  At bedtime, he was reluctant, but I lured him with the promise of a special bedtime story.  To my shock he got in the bed.  Under the covers.  And put his head on the pillow!  Those may sound like no big deal, but did you read this?

Here he is all tucked in.

Adorable, right?  Except it lasted about 10 minutes.  Then he was out of bed as usual, complaining that his bed was “unsafe” and demanding that I “put it back the way it was!”  The last I saw he was lying horizontal across the bed, on top of the covers, with his feet on the wall.  We’ll see where he actually falls asleep tonight.

If I had to describe my days in one word it would be: non-stop. Every day is a continuous flow of doing one thing immediately followed by another. There is no break. No time to think. Organization, planning and logistics are paramount, which does not bode well for me since none of those are my strong suit, but luckily SuburbanMommy excels at them.

My day starts shortly after 5 am. Not because I am naturally a morning person, but because Thing 4 wakes me up. And on those rare days when she does “sleep in” until 6, Things 1 & 2 wake up at 5:30 to have an argument about which Wii Mario Brothers world they last played. In truth, I have been woken up that early for so many years now, I don’t think I could sleep past 6 o’clock even if I were to wake up on my own.

Hmm…waking up on my own…to quiet…sounds wonderful. Sorry, I got distracted by a daydream for a second. Speaking of getting distracted, that happens often during my day. I’m working on one or two or ten things at the same time when something comes to the top of my attention and I completely forget whatever I was doing. Now back to my day.

My first order of business is to get all 4 kids awake, breakfast, dressed, and ready for school/camp/daycare while SuburbanMommy is getting dressed and ready for work. Each kid has their routine that I need to cater to. Thing 1 bounces out of bed and is ready in no time. Thing 2 will take forever to get dressed because he likes to watch himself dance naked in front of the mirror (seriously). Thing 3 must have his milk as soon as he gets up or else, and it’s best if he picks out his own clothes. Trust me. Thing 4 can’t wait to put her shoes on. Then there are all the things I need to remember for them that day: field trip permission slips, special lunch items, show and share day, out of diapers, change of clothes. Finally we get all the kids loaded into the car around 7:15, I wave goodbye, and I take a deep breadth.

Now I can start thinking about what I need to do today. But first, there is a good deal of cleanup following the disaster that is 4 kids eating breakfast and running around the house for an hour. Remember when I said there is no downtime? I lied. At this point I take 10 minutes to eat a bowl of cereal or two, drink tea, and watch the Today Show. Don’t tell my wife. OK, break time over. Time for me to shower and get to “work”. I mockingly call what I do at an office work because it’s pretty easy compared to my time away from the office.

But it’s not like I spend an uninterrupted block of time at the office. No, I’m constantly shifting between office and home tasks. Parent teacher conferences, doctor appointments, or, what I did today was take the minivan to the dealer because some parts were recalled and we’re about to take a long drive to the beach so probably should have that taken care of. That’s actually where I am right now writing this post. You didn’t think I get time set aside for blogging, did you? I almost always write blog posts while doing something else.

Today I need to leave the office at 4:30 to take Thing 4 to a swim meet. This is where logistics comes into play. There are only two of us and four of them. Sometimes I need to be in more than one place at the same time in order for them to attend all their activities. In those instances, you just need to pick and choose and sometimes they don’t get to attend. I suppose that sucks for them but it’s just the way it goes when you are part of a large family.

Usually, at 6 o’clock it’s time to pick up the kids. They are at the on-site childcare where I work so it’s convenient. SuburbanMommy gets home earlier to have dinner ready for the kids when we walk in the door, because that is a sight unto itself. Imagine flipping a switch to turn on a Category 5 hurricane. That’s what it’s like to walk in the door with four tired, hungry kids who all want your attention. At the same time. It is quite stressful even if you are used to it and know it’s coming. Which is why the next thing SuburbanMommy and I do is pour a tall glass of wine for ourselves.

The next hour or two are the reverse of the morning. Dinner, baths, teeth brushing, bedtime. With each kid having their own routines and quirks. Who goes to bed first. When and which book to read. Lights on or off. In the case of Thing 3, whether he is sleeping in his room or the hallway floor tonight because he is afraid of dreams. Thing 4 is the first to bed around 7:30. Not because she is ready for bed, but because we are ready for her to go to bed. It takes about an hour to get the rest of the crew through the nightly ritual.

Now it’s 8:30, time for me to eat my dinner hopefully in quiet unless someone comes out of their room needing a drink, or scared of something, or fighting with someone. Then it’s one more round of cleanup and organization for the next day before collapsing into bed, only to wake up some hours later to do it all again.

That about sums it up. If you have kids it probably sounds familiar. If you don’t have kids it probably frightens you. At least now you know.

Apparently, that is not the case. SuburbanDaddy has become a source of laughter and joking at the expense of Things 1-3. Thing 4 is too young, but give her time, I’m sure she’ll join her brothers.

How do I get ridiculed by a seven, six, and especially four year old?

They make fun of my clothes: “Look at daddy’s socks! Ha ha. ” So what, I keep my dark socks on that I wore to work, when I come home and change into shorts. Changing socks would only create more laundry.

They make fun when I forget things, which is a lot these days. Lately, I can’t get their names straight. I often rattle through all three before getting the right one. “Get off your brother, Thing 2! I mean Thing 3! I mean Thing 1!” Instead of getting off, they just start laughing at me.

By far the worst abuse comes from Thing 3. He can completely crack himself up, hysterical laughter, just by saying something that is hilarious to an almost four year old.

“Daddy, you stink” will cause Thing 3 to laugh for ten minutes.

Then there is “Daddy, let me bop your coconut” which means he wants to hit me on the head with a soccer ball or golf club. Once he does, it’s very funny. Well, it is funny to him.

And there’s the latest one. We’ll be driving in the car, talking about ducks or clouds or firetrucks or whatever random thought catches his mind. Out of nowhere, Thing 3 will say:

“Hey Daddy! Daddy! ”

“Yes”

“You’re a joke”

No, what makes me so happy on Monday morning is what I won’t be doing today. After spending the last 63 hours without a minute of peace or time to myself (also known as the weekend), it’s nice to think about sitting at my desk for hours without any crying, whining, screaming, fighting, cleaning, or interruptions. That is, until Friday, when I will have had enough of the “calm” that is my job and look forward to another 63 hours away from it.

It’s an endless cycle.

To avoid a complete catastrophe when the event arrives, I have been casually mentioning it over the last week. Like when I brush his teeth, I told him he can get a NEW toothbrush when we go to the dentist. You’d think a kid would like something new. But not Thing 3. He doesn’t like change at all. He prefers his old, bent bristles, ratty toothbrush. “Nooo! I don’t want to go to the dentist!”

I didn’t mentioned it again until last night at bedtime, I reminded him that I would pick him up at school at 10:30 and we’d go to the dentist. “Nooo! I don’t want to go!”

Apparently, he was worrying about this all night. He woke up in a bad mood and, with no prompting, and has told us 137 times (I counted) that he doesn’t want to go to the dentist.

I don’t know why we even bother. A dentist visit with him consists of him kicking, screaming, and fighting while I hold him down and the dentist peeks at his teeth for 3 seconds. Money and time well spent to teach a 3 year old the importance of taking care of your teeth.

I guess she isn’t needing as much sleep anymore. Except, shortly after being wide awake, she is so tired, she’ll fall asleep anywhere.

This is what she looked like at 5:30 this morning, after getting up at 4:15. Passed out in the high chair.

Then there is the dreaded stuff that has a million pieces which are scattered throughout the house by Thing 3 and Thing 4 and never to be found again, rendering the game/toy/puzzle useless. If you are one of our beloved friends or family who gave one of these gems, thanks, and expect payback someday when you have kids.

And while we’re on that subject, please, please don’t get us any more toys which make constant, loud, annoying, impossible to shut off, noises. These toys will have the batteries removed by the anti-Santa. Haven’t heard of him? He’s the guy who comes at night after the kids are asleep and removes batteries.

The worst part of all the new stuff each year is finding where to put all of it. It’s not like we had all this extra room a week ago. Drawers, shelves, and buckets are already filled to the brim with stuff. And now we have all this new stuff to find room for, most of which is crap, junk, broken, or forgotten already.

I’m considering a new “zero sum” Santa policy next year. For every present he gives he also takes an old one away of equal size. So you better be careful about how many things you ask for.

All leading up to now – the big payoff. 7:55pm and all four kids are quiet in bed. Do you hear that sound? Me neither, it’s quiet. Except for
maybe the crack of another bottle of wine.

There is a winter storm warning for tomorrow. A possible Nor’easter. Which means tomorrow has the chance for 4 soon to be very well rested kids to be trapped inside the house again.

Better enjoy this while I can. Crack that wine.

Thing 3 needs new shoes. His current ones, Spiderman sneakers that light up, are worn and have holes in the front. People are going to start thinking we don’t care about the well being of his feet. Or that times are tough and we can’t afford new ones.

No, we are just avoiding the inevitable struggle that happens when we get him a new anything. Thing 3 is not exactly easygoing when it comes to change. He refuses to drink milk out of any cup but a blue one with an orange top. And this weekend he watched the same DVD a dozen times in a row. So you can imagine what getting new shoes is like.

I know what you are thinking. Get him the same exact shoes he has now. Duh. Well, a trip to Target didn’t find them in stock anymore. And not surprisingly he didn’t find anything else to his liking. Although, he wasn’t so polite in his refusal. It was more like “Nooooooooooooo!” followed by a face down in the middle of the store episode.

On to Plan B – order them online. Surely some store must have Spiderman light up sneakers in toddler size 9? Not so lucky. The only ones I can find are in size 7.

Now I’m left with one of those life altering decisions. Do I get a different Spiderman sneaker that doesn’t light up? Do I go with similar light up sneakers but with a different character? If so, which one? I found a Batman shoe that looks a lot like the Spiderman one but I don’t know how he’ll react to Batman. What about Toy Story 3 sneakers that light up? Sure, he loves, loves, loves Buzz Lightyear but for some reason refuses to wear a Buzz shirt. Lightning McQueen? Touchy subject around here.

What to do? What to do?