On how my kids are far from perfect and why my evening was awful

My Mom, of all people, occasionally criticizes me by saying I want my family life to be perfect and that I'm prone to expecting - demanding - it at every turn.

Frankly, that's an empty and annoying accusation because I've never claimed perfection. I am happy with my wife, I am happy with my kids, and not a day goes by where I do not count my blessings.

That's not perfection, that's being damn lucky.

But yes, of course there are moments/hours/days (hell, weeks) when all hell breaks loose and I'm full of frustration and anger and every other emotion in the dictionary.

Take tonight as a prime example. My wife had gone out for the evening and it was my job to put the kids to bed before watching Lost. Let me preface this by saying that it is usually my job to put them to bed; I am no rookie, I am not a pushover at bedtime, and normally the process is 1-2-3.

Anyway, the kids had been prepped for days about the importance of this show to me. They'd noted my excitement, they'd asked questions about the show's premise and they dressed quickly and peacefully for bed. I didn't even care if they went to sleep, since Friday they have no school, but I did want silence and for them to stay in their rooms (not that I was dumb enough to tell them that and open the floodgates)

Either way it was two plus hours of hell. This is what a typical minute of that time was like:

* YaYa, with that evil sparkle in her eyes, claiming innocence and victimhood and declaring - with a straight face and calm pulse no less - that the other kids were interrupting her attempts to sleep.

* LuLu, ever the tattle-tale of the trio, reporting every slight, large and small, and crying because a) her cheerleader doll had 'ugly' bangs b) her cheerleader doll was dirty c) she wanted her cheerleaders audio shut off d) the blanket was the wrong one e) YaYa took the good spot f) Smiley was annoying her

* Smiley, the devil fully at work in his two year old body, running back and forth upstairs so hard that the chandelier shook in the dining room and just plain wiping out the entire second floor by throwing the contents of drawers and closets willy-nilly. It will take an hour to put it back together tomorrow.

No threat, no punishment, no coercion could stop the madness. It went on and on and on for the length of the show and more . . it is truly a miracle that I managed to choke it down and not lose my cool completely.

The most horrifying part is that they dang near killed Smiley. The girls were sick of him tossing things at them soYaYa tied a jump rope to a doorknob and the other end AROUND HIS NECK as a 'doggy leash'. It was nothing short of parental instinct that caused me to respond to his cries, since they were no more or less urgent than any of the other thousand noises from upstairs.

I went up to find him straining with all his might to extend the reach of the rope - and tightening it around his neck with every step.

My Lord!

The kicker: the baby, the dreaded and disliked resident of this house during her recent attempts to cut her teeth, was quiet and peaceful the whole time.

But, lest you think that 'perfection' escaped Nostalgic Avenue completely this evening  . . the girls came downstairs together and, very sincere, presented me a present (a tissue box with wrapping paper inside and a ribbon around it) and said "We're sorry for ruining your show Daddy". Then they hugged me, went upstairs, and for the last hour it's been a calm and relaxed household.

Take that, naysayers.

Of course, then I realized the tissue box had been full a few hours before . . .

Tags: LuLu, Lost, Smiley, YaYa, Baby