It’s mommy’s night out, and I  though the kids understood that meant business as usual. This assumption is about as bogus as a journeyman pitcher who throws 4 innings of perfect baseball and assumes the rest of the game will be a breeze.  It’s only a matter of time before that first hit. Then, before you can say, “bedtime” the shut out is gone and your team is trailing by 3 runs.

Case in point, my evening with the kids tonight.  It started out okay, with the kids both pleased with Daddy’s choic for dinner; Easter leftovers:  ham, cheesy potatoes, applesauce and crackers.  No issues there. Like that starting pitcher, I was cruisin through the early innings.

We colored up some books and furniture (incidental contact) read some Dr. Seuss books, and even had time to break in a Tea Party set from Auntie T.  Still perfect.  A 10 minute break for daddy was allowed when I got to sit on the couch and watch some Red Sox Yankees game on free MLB Preview. While the kids ransacked the Mite hockey bag, and took turns trying out the equipment, I almost felt guilty for having such a stellar night on the mound.  That feeling didn’t last long though.

It was just before bedtime, when the little toddler walked over stinking like a Dakota Pig barn, chattering,

“Pot- dee, Pot- dee, ” the universal kid language, for “Oops, I crapped my pants and I need to go sit on the toilet to make myself feel good.”

We went to the bathroom, to take off the diaper and set up the lil trainee on toilet. That’s when the first error of the night occurred as I managed to  drop that pamper,  spilling “doo”  all over the bathroom floor.  The phone rang. It was mommy!  Call it a trip to the mound, so I do my best to pretend that my arm is fine and I am in complete control. The no-no is still intact,  even though the 5 year old starts begging for me to let him apply one of those cute little easter egg tattoos on his hand at the same time I am on the phone.

It’s obvious to my wife by now, that chaos is king in the house, but I persist that it’s all good. She hangs up, knowing that I am literally full of “shit” and again she is right, but I approve of her proposal to extend the night with her friend to engage in some hard core shopping.

After we hang up, the kids do there best to chase me from the mound, but I hang tough. It was time to put toddler girl to bed,

“Jammy time,” I propose to the kids, who reluctantly take on the evening ritual of getting ready for bed.  I propose to my pre K 5 year old boy, that if he can brush his teeth while I am upstairs tucking in the toddler, he can hang out with me and watch some baseball. Apparently, that struck a nerve. I still don’t know why. Can you say meltdown?

He bashes me with a tirade of hurtful words, and goes straight for the heart, venting,

“I HATE BASEBALL!!! I DO NOT LIKE YOU. I WILL NOT EVER EVER LISTEN TO YOU! I DON’T WANT TO PLAY T-BALL, I WISH YOU NEVER SIGNED ME UP. I DON’T WANT TO GET HIT IN THE FACE WITH A BALL!!!”

The rant goes on, but that’s the gist of it. I calmly tell him that he has until I get back downstairs to brush his teeth, or he will be coming up to bed early. I walk up the stairs with the toddler, and place her in her crib with Funny Bunny (her stuffed animal comfort). I rub her back, and she falls asleep.

I am back downstairs and talking to the 5 year old. He has brushed his teeth, and is now calm.  I remind that he has no chance  of ever getting his way when he rants, and he needs to try to control his outbursts.  He agreed so we went to the basement to watch TV and play.

Suddenly we were interrupted with a  toddler “freak out” on the baby monitor.

“Tea, Tea… DADA, DADA, TEaaaaaaaaaaa!” she cried repeatedly, begging with tears for attention

Clearly the tea party we played earlier in the night is more desirable then trying to sleep.  The pleas for Daddy continue, so I tell the 5 Year old that I am going upstairs to calm her down.  Folks, that is where I completely lost the no-no.  The visit upstairs was a mistake. It confused her, and for the next half-hour she pines from the crib for mommy, daddy, and tea party and whatever else she can think of.

Finally, she goes back to  sleeping, my no-no is gone, and I am still in the game to finish what I started. The next task is to get the older kid to bed before mommy comes home.  That didn’t happen. With the baby crying, and the boy still wide awake in his room, my wife returned to unneeded chaos. I was pulled from the game, feeling that I had somehow let the team down.  Frustrating.

I might have taken a no-decision for this game, but my arm still feels good, and I will definetely get more starts down the road. Hey, we can’t win every game, but  we just have to keep plugging away.

Baseball Fever… CATCH IT!