A Tale of Two Snicks... And Related Misadventures of King Van

 "It's important, as Kipling said, to treat triumph and disaster both the same, but it seems all you ever get are mild satisfaction and vague disappointment."

I feel I must begin today's rant with the disclaimer that I, quite simply, have the two coolest muthafukin' kids on the planet. When they wake up in the morning, they piss excellence.

That said, let's hop on the slide down to the Kingdom of Rants, shall we? My youngest son, the esteemed Dr. Snicks, while miniature in stature is gigantic in personality. He is the happiest, most hilariously insane little creature I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Confident, assertive, optimistically jovial. All the things I aspire to be. I suppose it is, then, in the spirit of universal balance that there must be a Jekyll to his Hyde. In the case of poor Dax, it is not a mood swing or sinister (and slightly homicidal) temper that lurks in the shadows. Rather, the apparent and complete lack of immunity to all the illnesses stagnating around the hell that is daycare.

To his credit, he tries his damnedest to smile sweetly through all the fevers, vomiting, coughing and blue-lipped episodes of late. He takes medicine like a champ, and his threshold for pain is nothing short of miraculous. But for this overly concerned Mama, the exhaustion associated with all of it sours the joy a stronger human might exhibit.... I'm also of the opinion that toddler beds are simply not constructed to withstand the weight of this Ninja Kitty.

Be careful what you wish for, as the old saying goes. I seem to recall having to sleep in the room with the good Doctor previously to keep an eye on his breathing after concerns of seizures mounted. When the crisis was somewhat averted and I returned to my own cozy lair, I experienced the dramatic onset of a heartache. I felt out of sync with his breathing patterns and almost lost without that little muppet snore emanating out of those teensy little nostrils.... I missed it. Not sure if I verbalized this, but I missed it. By the by, King Van would no doubt trade places with me in a more permanent arrangement as he rather enjoys the luxuries of a king size bed (fitting for a King, as it seems) and assorted cartoons blazing delightfully into the night.

Alas, the ongoing adventures of Dr. Snicks have now transpired to a level which puts my employment in direct jeopardy. Finding some sort of balance in a life full of work stresses amidst that ever-pending threat of unemployment and being the model Mama who's ready at a moment's notice with a reassuring hug & oodles of ice cream - well... so far eludes me. I'm an often short tempered and bloodshot-eye'd pirate with a litany of her own pesky health blunders. Through it all, one would find it more than understandable that the older legend in his spare time, King Vanaloons, would exhibit signs of extreme jealousy or distaste with the young Doctor. Such is not the case - the elder Mr. Voorhies is an angel, albeit somewhat withdrawn from time to time.

***Remind me to keep an eye on all the imaginary friends he's amassed in my attentive absence - their actions can be exceedingly suspicious as they no doubt shoulder the blame for everything from the crayon on the walls to the clogged toilet which caused a flood.....***

Ups and downs and ins and outs. A spiral of challenges and tests - barely passing thanks to the nerdy kid to my immediate left. It's not a crime if you don't get caught, right? Seems as good a time as any to circle back to my earlier affirmation that I'm still blessed with the two coolest muthafukin' kids on the planet. The same kids who throw birthday parties for snails and draw cupcakes for each other when their mean 'ol Mama fails to procure such treats for them on the way home from work. They're sweet and sassy. Brilliant yet exceedingly deaf. Violent and artistic. Blissfully unaware of my evil plots to bottle and promptly sell the secrets of their endless energy to the general cash-wielding public. *sigh* Through all the grief, I will fight to the death battling the child-napping gypsy lurking outside their window with long grabby claws and a bottomless patchwork bag waiting to snag them in the night.

Back off, creeps, they're all mine and I loves 'em :)

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Kitty

Thursday, March 24, 2011

A Tale of Two Snicks... And Related Misadventures of King Van

 "It's important, as Kipling said, to treat triumph and disaster both the same, but it seems all you ever get are mild satisfaction and vague disappointment."

I feel I must begin today's rant with the disclaimer that I, quite simply, have the two coolest muthafukin' kids on the planet. When they wake up in the morning, they piss excellence.

That said, let's hop on the slide down to the Kingdom of Rants, shall we? My youngest son, the esteemed Dr. Snicks, while miniature in stature is gigantic in personality. He is the happiest, most hilariously insane little creature I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Confident, assertive, optimistically jovial. All the things I aspire to be. I suppose it is, then, in the spirit of universal balance that there must be a Jekyll to his Hyde. In the case of poor Dax, it is not a mood swing or sinister (and slightly homicidal) temper that lurks in the shadows. Rather, the apparent and complete lack of immunity to all the illnesses stagnating around the hell that is daycare.

To his credit, he tries his damnedest to smile sweetly through all the fevers, vomiting, coughing and blue-lipped episodes of late. He takes medicine like a champ, and his threshold for pain is nothing short of miraculous. But for this overly concerned Mama, the exhaustion associated with all of it sours the joy a stronger human might exhibit.... I'm also of the opinion that toddler beds are simply not constructed to withstand the weight of this Ninja Kitty.

Be careful what you wish for, as the old saying goes. I seem to recall having to sleep in the room with the good Doctor previously to keep an eye on his breathing after concerns of seizures mounted. When the crisis was somewhat averted and I returned to my own cozy lair, I experienced the dramatic onset of a heartache. I felt out of sync with his breathing patterns and almost lost without that little muppet snore emanating out of those teensy little nostrils.... I missed it. Not sure if I verbalized this, but I missed it. By the by, King Van would no doubt trade places with me in a more permanent arrangement as he rather enjoys the luxuries of a king size bed (fitting for a King, as it seems) and assorted cartoons blazing delightfully into the night.

Alas, the ongoing adventures of Dr. Snicks have now transpired to a level which puts my employment in direct jeopardy. Finding some sort of balance in a life full of work stresses amidst that ever-pending threat of unemployment and being the model Mama who's ready at a moment's notice with a reassuring hug & oodles of ice cream - well... so far eludes me. I'm an often short tempered and bloodshot-eye'd pirate with a litany of her own pesky health blunders. Through it all, one would find it more than understandable that the older legend in his spare time, King Vanaloons, would exhibit signs of extreme jealousy or distaste with the young Doctor. Such is not the case - the elder Mr. Voorhies is an angel, albeit somewhat withdrawn from time to time.

***Remind me to keep an eye on all the imaginary friends he's amassed in my attentive absence - their actions can be exceedingly suspicious as they no doubt shoulder the blame for everything from the crayon on the walls to the clogged toilet which caused a flood.....***

Ups and downs and ins and outs. A spiral of challenges and tests - barely passing thanks to the nerdy kid to my immediate left. It's not a crime if you don't get caught, right? Seems as good a time as any to circle back to my earlier affirmation that I'm still blessed with the two coolest muthafukin' kids on the planet. The same kids who throw birthday parties for snails and draw cupcakes for each other when their mean 'ol Mama fails to procure such treats for them on the way home from work. They're sweet and sassy. Brilliant yet exceedingly deaf. Violent and artistic. Blissfully unaware of my evil plots to bottle and promptly sell the secrets of their endless energy to the general cash-wielding public. *sigh* Through all the grief, I will fight to the death battling the child-napping gypsy lurking outside their window with long grabby claws and a bottomless patchwork bag waiting to snag them in the night.

Back off, creeps, they're all mine and I loves 'em :)

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