Ok, so I'm not helping my cause by drinking a couple midweek, but I'm still totally overwhelmed and struggling to catch up. I spend an hour tidying, and within minutes of my wife's arrival home, the place needs to be tidied again.
Are things getting accomplished? Oh, yes. Plenty of things. But I still don't have clean clothes for the weekend.
While on the subject of laundry, I picked up a weird injury on Monday. I was investigating the clothes that had been left a little wet in the washer to see if they would need to be rewashed (if they smelt damp) or if they could go into the dryer. I picked up a towel that was on top of the pile and put it to my nose...
... and it felt like I got a burn on the tip of my nose. What could have caused that? It wasn't like a static shock, just an instant itch that has now developed into a raw patch. I'm clueless as to what did it. Did the towel bite me?
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Spread too thin
I really am struggling right now. I wonder if I have taken on too much in trying to write books, trying to write for the newspaper, trying to write for magazines, trying to serve on a school board, trying to serve on a board of trustees at the library, shopping, cleaning, cooking, laundry-ing, and keeping two kids alive.
On top of all this, I am sleeping so badly, not helped by the recent heatwave that hit right after I put the air conditioners away.
I need a break, not just from the kids (especially "the boy" (c) Homer Simpson.
Here's an example that just happened this very second. Penny is pouring herself some milk (she can get the stuff from the fridge and do it herself.) Patrick decides he wants to put the top back on the milk carton every time Penny takes it off. The result is a little spilled milk, which I shouldn't cry over. But there's more. Patrick then hits Penny very lightly on the arm with a drum, which makes her whine, flail her arms, and knock the cup FILLED to the brim with milk on the floor. This whole incident took less than three seconds from start to finish. That's potentially 20 such incidents a minute. And it's not quite 9:30am.
On top of all this, I am sleeping so badly, not helped by the recent heatwave that hit right after I put the air conditioners away.
I need a break, not just from the kids (especially "the boy" (c) Homer Simpson.
Here's an example that just happened this very second. Penny is pouring herself some milk (she can get the stuff from the fridge and do it herself.) Patrick decides he wants to put the top back on the milk carton every time Penny takes it off. The result is a little spilled milk, which I shouldn't cry over. But there's more. Patrick then hits Penny very lightly on the arm with a drum, which makes her whine, flail her arms, and knock the cup FILLED to the brim with milk on the floor. This whole incident took less than three seconds from start to finish. That's potentially 20 such incidents a minute. And it's not quite 9:30am.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Not Drowning, but "Drowning"
I've been overwhelmed by parenting before, but this week is a joke. Even supposed break-times are exhausting.
After a weekend away, we arrived back after a drive up from the Jersey Shore, on Monday morning. Both kids were a little sick - sick enough to up the whining level to an 11. Neither wanted to eat, except at the times when all they wanted to do was eat. We skipped school for them, but by Monday night I was walking around with no idea of what I was doing and all our bags from our trip sat unpacked as trip hazards between the kitchen and dining room (ie. that's where I dropped them and that's where they stayed.)
Tuesday was no better. Normally, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days when both kids are in school and I can milk my alone time for all it's worth. But, given the co-op nature of the kids' school, I was the "working mom" in Penny's classroom - and somehow also had to attend a social coffee morning with the moms in Patrick's class at the same time. I can't say it wasn't fun to goof around with the kids, but it meant I got home at nearly noon and nothing had been done around the house. I walked in, and tripped over the same bags.
Yesterday, Penny had a field trip at a farm 20 minutes from home, and had a shortened school day because of it. So, I dropped her off at 9:30, then still had Patrick to worry about, and was a 40-minute round trip away from unpacking. All the other moms stayed in the farm's cafe and gassed over coffee. I joined them. And again, I can't say it wasn't fun, but... home, trip, curse at bags for the third day in a row.
By last night, things were getting desperate. I had no clean clothes that weren't still packed and very little money for dinner or anything else. A hastily put together meal meant I had time to tip the bags on to the couch - the first step of actually putting them away. I then had every intention of putting Patrick to bed, then coming down and working on the clothes mountain. Instead, I must have fallen asleep next to him as I woke up at 5:15am, stumbled downstairs, and found the cat nesting on the peak of Clothes Everest, shedding his fur all over my white linen shirt.
Yeah, little overwhelmed here.
After a weekend away, we arrived back after a drive up from the Jersey Shore, on Monday morning. Both kids were a little sick - sick enough to up the whining level to an 11. Neither wanted to eat, except at the times when all they wanted to do was eat. We skipped school for them, but by Monday night I was walking around with no idea of what I was doing and all our bags from our trip sat unpacked as trip hazards between the kitchen and dining room (ie. that's where I dropped them and that's where they stayed.)
Tuesday was no better. Normally, Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days when both kids are in school and I can milk my alone time for all it's worth. But, given the co-op nature of the kids' school, I was the "working mom" in Penny's classroom - and somehow also had to attend a social coffee morning with the moms in Patrick's class at the same time. I can't say it wasn't fun to goof around with the kids, but it meant I got home at nearly noon and nothing had been done around the house. I walked in, and tripped over the same bags.
Yesterday, Penny had a field trip at a farm 20 minutes from home, and had a shortened school day because of it. So, I dropped her off at 9:30, then still had Patrick to worry about, and was a 40-minute round trip away from unpacking. All the other moms stayed in the farm's cafe and gassed over coffee. I joined them. And again, I can't say it wasn't fun, but... home, trip, curse at bags for the third day in a row.
By last night, things were getting desperate. I had no clean clothes that weren't still packed and very little money for dinner or anything else. A hastily put together meal meant I had time to tip the bags on to the couch - the first step of actually putting them away. I then had every intention of putting Patrick to bed, then coming down and working on the clothes mountain. Instead, I must have fallen asleep next to him as I woke up at 5:15am, stumbled downstairs, and found the cat nesting on the peak of Clothes Everest, shedding his fur all over my white linen shirt.
Yeah, little overwhelmed here.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Abort! Abort!
Too... much... urine...
As hastily as the idea was adopted, I surrendered early this afternoon. We will try again. Some day.
As hastily as the idea was adopted, I surrendered early this afternoon. We will try again. Some day.
Going Potty
I would write more on this topic, but I dare not become too distracted from the task at hand.
For whatever ridiculous reason, we started potty training my 2-year-old son this weekend. With two adults present. With nothing else to do.
This morning, it's just me, with plenty to do. And in the last hour, the success rate has been less than 50%.
Which means I have been mopping us piss since my son woke up.
For whatever ridiculous reason, we started potty training my 2-year-old son this weekend. With two adults present. With nothing else to do.
This morning, it's just me, with plenty to do. And in the last hour, the success rate has been less than 50%.
Which means I have been mopping us piss since my son woke up.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
R-rated post follows
The following story is not for the squeamish. For at least two reasons. That's my disclaimer.
When Patrick was born, he took a liking to a small mole on my neck. I had never really noticed it before, what with it being almost flat to the skin and, while a darkish-brown, not so dark that it stood out any. When he was a few months old, he would actually suckle on it like it was a nipple, which made us all laugh and made me feel like Scaramanga (James Bond villain with... an extra one.)
Two years later, he still had a liking for it, but it had been put under great stress. It was no longer flat to the skin. Rather it dangled from an elongated thread of mole tissue. While being put down for a nap, he would touch it, squeeze it a little with his fingers (the suckling days stopped when he stopped taking a bottle), and every so often he would grab it and twist it, which is even more painful than it sounds. Imagine laying quietly with your two-year-old, quiet music playing in the dark, then feeling a stabbing - actually a pulling - pain as your son grabs a piece of your neck the size of a pencil eraser and threatens to rip it off.
So this morning, I went to the dermatologist and had it removed. It took 30 seconds, and early signs are that it wasn't any more than a harmless mole. The doctor said: "It seems to have undergone some trauma over the past months." Well, no shit, doc. Being almost twisted off nearly every day could certainly be considered traumatic.
And the second gross-out story of the day? I was shopping in a clothing store and Patrick suddenly stopped walking and told me to "Go away" meaning he was in the act of filling his diaper. No big deal. I finished my shop, carried him out to the car (where I found my portable supply of diapers exhausted) and drove him home to change him. I lay him on the couch and went to find a diaper and some wipes. When I came back having eventually located the last clean diaper in the house and last packet of wipes, there was light brown shit all over the couch, his clothes, his back and his shirt.
Nearly an hour later, I still have the windows open. It was a motherload for sure.
So, here's hoping the afternoon is better than this morning. I am about to put Pat down for his nap. I hope he doesn't absent-mindedly finger the wound where his mole-buddy used to be, because that would really, really hurt.
When Patrick was born, he took a liking to a small mole on my neck. I had never really noticed it before, what with it being almost flat to the skin and, while a darkish-brown, not so dark that it stood out any. When he was a few months old, he would actually suckle on it like it was a nipple, which made us all laugh and made me feel like Scaramanga (James Bond villain with... an extra one.)
Two years later, he still had a liking for it, but it had been put under great stress. It was no longer flat to the skin. Rather it dangled from an elongated thread of mole tissue. While being put down for a nap, he would touch it, squeeze it a little with his fingers (the suckling days stopped when he stopped taking a bottle), and every so often he would grab it and twist it, which is even more painful than it sounds. Imagine laying quietly with your two-year-old, quiet music playing in the dark, then feeling a stabbing - actually a pulling - pain as your son grabs a piece of your neck the size of a pencil eraser and threatens to rip it off.
So this morning, I went to the dermatologist and had it removed. It took 30 seconds, and early signs are that it wasn't any more than a harmless mole. The doctor said: "It seems to have undergone some trauma over the past months." Well, no shit, doc. Being almost twisted off nearly every day could certainly be considered traumatic.
And the second gross-out story of the day? I was shopping in a clothing store and Patrick suddenly stopped walking and told me to "Go away" meaning he was in the act of filling his diaper. No big deal. I finished my shop, carried him out to the car (where I found my portable supply of diapers exhausted) and drove him home to change him. I lay him on the couch and went to find a diaper and some wipes. When I came back having eventually located the last clean diaper in the house and last packet of wipes, there was light brown shit all over the couch, his clothes, his back and his shirt.
Nearly an hour later, I still have the windows open. It was a motherload for sure.
So, here's hoping the afternoon is better than this morning. I am about to put Pat down for his nap. I hope he doesn't absent-mindedly finger the wound where his mole-buddy used to be, because that would really, really hurt.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Buggin' Out
Bugs treat me like a prime cut of beef. When I put on bug spray, they consider it a marinade. I get bitten even if I sit with a citronella candle practically singeing my eyebrows. I am too tasty.
As a result, I spent last night scratching my ankles raw as I "discovered" the delightful bites the skeeters applied to my fair skin during Sunday night's farewell to summer cook out. The kids, who ran in the grass, threw ants at each other, and must surely have more tender flesh than my leather old cells, are lump-free.
Bastards! (the bugs, not the kids)
As a result, I spent last night scratching my ankles raw as I "discovered" the delightful bites the skeeters applied to my fair skin during Sunday night's farewell to summer cook out. The kids, who ran in the grass, threw ants at each other, and must surely have more tender flesh than my leather old cells, are lump-free.
Bastards! (the bugs, not the kids)
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Dog Days
Although summer is over now Labor Day has been and gone, this weekend is pretty spectacular. Lots of sun-frolicking this morning ahead of my first taste of soccer coaching. Out for a boozy BBQ tonight, then playing soccer tomorrow before coaching more soccer, and more BBQ for dinner.
And Monday, Penny goes to school! Yay for an hour with only one kid! THEN on TUESDAY, BOTH kids are at school. Yip-yippee! They are just as excited as I am, and I have plenty of work lined on both the second book and also some suprise work that will actually earn me some money - something of a novelty of late.
And Monday, Penny goes to school! Yay for an hour with only one kid! THEN on TUESDAY, BOTH kids are at school. Yip-yippee! They are just as excited as I am, and I have plenty of work lined on both the second book and also some suprise work that will actually earn me some money - something of a novelty of late.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Two Things
If you read the link below, you might be a little confused. The title of the book seems to have changed along with the name of the hero.
You may well have read even further below that Marvin Allen was to be no more. He is now Dean Allen.
The book's title, for now, is "I Got You, Babe" which I like more and more. The original title "The World Is My Changing Table" may live on when the book is published in the U.S. But time will tell.
Just a little clarification there.
You may well have read even further below that Marvin Allen was to be no more. He is now Dean Allen.
The book's title, for now, is "I Got You, Babe" which I like more and more. The original title "The World Is My Changing Table" may live on when the book is published in the U.S. But time will tell.
Just a little clarification there.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Big Day
Regardless of the status of the manuscript (finished, submitted yesterday - one day late only because Monday was Labor Day) I have some kick-in-the-bollocks days ahead, followed by some massage-around-the-sensitive-neck-region days next week.
Today already kind of stank before my wife called me and asked me to take the kids to her parked car on the highway and collect the paperwork she needed in Manhattan today, but left on the passenger seat, and bring them home and scan them and e-mail them to her. The main reason is, today the kids have their belated two and four-year old check ups, and the result (ie. if they aren't sick, and they get their jabs thus enabling the completion of their school health forms) will determine whether they start school next week or not. The prospect of jabs looming, they have been promised a very rare and special treat if they are good at the docs - a McHappy meal - but as far as I'm concerned, the chicken and french fries will be a celebratory feast, not a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. The day rounds off with chiropractor's appointments for everyone, and a school board meeting for me.
Today already kind of stank before my wife called me and asked me to take the kids to her parked car on the highway and collect the paperwork she needed in Manhattan today, but left on the passenger seat, and bring them home and scan them and e-mail them to her. The main reason is, today the kids have their belated two and four-year old check ups, and the result (ie. if they aren't sick, and they get their jabs thus enabling the completion of their school health forms) will determine whether they start school next week or not. The prospect of jabs looming, they have been promised a very rare and special treat if they are good at the docs - a McHappy meal - but as far as I'm concerned, the chicken and french fries will be a celebratory feast, not a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. The day rounds off with chiropractor's appointments for everyone, and a school board meeting for me.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Post Vacation Stress Disorder
We got back from a week-long vacation yesterday, and I walked into potentially the busiest few days of the year.
I've come back a little sun-blessed, but other than that it doesn't feel like I've been on a break at all. Such is the joy of traveling with a 4 and 2-year old, regardless of how much support players are on line with me. I now have to finish the final, final draft of my novel by next Wednesday. In my absence I have been confirmed as the coach of a Kinder Soccer team (on which my daughter will be the star striker), which comes with all kind of responsibilities. And then there's the fundraising stuff for my daughter's school - a school which has its first days in two weeks time. I have doctor's appointments for me and the kids, laundry up the wazoo to put away...
... so I'm sitting here, typing, watching the Yankees get ready to beat Boston as the kids... I don't know... do something in the other room.
I've come back a little sun-blessed, but other than that it doesn't feel like I've been on a break at all. Such is the joy of traveling with a 4 and 2-year old, regardless of how much support players are on line with me. I now have to finish the final, final draft of my novel by next Wednesday. In my absence I have been confirmed as the coach of a Kinder Soccer team (on which my daughter will be the star striker), which comes with all kind of responsibilities. And then there's the fundraising stuff for my daughter's school - a school which has its first days in two weeks time. I have doctor's appointments for me and the kids, laundry up the wazoo to put away...
... so I'm sitting here, typing, watching the Yankees get ready to beat Boston as the kids... I don't know... do something in the other room.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
So what?
You know when I find myself saying: "I don't care!" the most often? When I really, really care and I'm trying to tell myself I don't. Sigh!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Marvin Allen R.I.P.
So, as the deadline for the final submission of the manuscript approaches, we have our first casualty.
Marvin Allen, the hero of TWIMCT, is no more. That is to say, he won't be called Marvin. In choosing such an unusual name, I wanted to make sure my hero wouldn't actually like his own name - so would outright reject the American tradition of naming the first born son after the father. My editor told me yesterday that it wasn't going to work, and another respected source at the publisher told me it needs to be a cool name to make the readers fall in love with him. The name, it would seem, is that important.
I have had a few suggestions so far, and there is a clear front-runner, but all this thought is distracting me from my kids, one of which is sick, and one of which cannot scientifically be far behind. Just as I start to feel better, naturally.
Oh, and the title will need to be amended for the UK edition. Just tweaked probably, but changed none the less.
Marvin Allen, the hero of TWIMCT, is no more. That is to say, he won't be called Marvin. In choosing such an unusual name, I wanted to make sure my hero wouldn't actually like his own name - so would outright reject the American tradition of naming the first born son after the father. My editor told me yesterday that it wasn't going to work, and another respected source at the publisher told me it needs to be a cool name to make the readers fall in love with him. The name, it would seem, is that important.
I have had a few suggestions so far, and there is a clear front-runner, but all this thought is distracting me from my kids, one of which is sick, and one of which cannot scientifically be far behind. Just as I start to feel better, naturally.
Oh, and the title will need to be amended for the UK edition. Just tweaked probably, but changed none the less.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sick
Here's something funny. I am getting sick - nothing major, and it's been a long time (since the well-documented write-off that was mid-February) so I'm due. But the kids are starting to show signs too now, which is a bigger deal.
And here's all I can think about:
"I hope they get sick now, so they get better before they have their next doctor appointment."
That isn't as crazy as it sounds. If they are sick when they are supposed to go in for their immunisations, they won't be allowed to have them. If they don't have them, they can't get their clean health form to start school. And if they can't start school until they are better, then have their jabs, I will be stuck with them while ALL the other kids start school, making me the town pariah and Worst Parent Of The Year 2007.
For all those parents to be or new parents taking notes: Don't take your kids to the doctors when they are a little bit sick. They can't help if Junior has a cold, and it could wreck the next week or two of your scheduling.
And here's all I can think about:
"I hope they get sick now, so they get better before they have their next doctor appointment."
That isn't as crazy as it sounds. If they are sick when they are supposed to go in for their immunisations, they won't be allowed to have them. If they don't have them, they can't get their clean health form to start school. And if they can't start school until they are better, then have their jabs, I will be stuck with them while ALL the other kids start school, making me the town pariah and Worst Parent Of The Year 2007.
For all those parents to be or new parents taking notes: Don't take your kids to the doctors when they are a little bit sick. They can't help if Junior has a cold, and it could wreck the next week or two of your scheduling.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Joy!
They say every day with children is an adventure and a blessing.
This morning, as I was making the Cheerios he soon would refuse to eat, my darling son took a pair of scissors and cut a hole in the only pair of clean shorts I have.
So, the adventure of today is that I will either wear dirty clothes, clothes with a freshly cut hole in, or nothing pending my doing some laundry. Wow! I feel like Indiana Frickin' Jones!
And the blessing is... well, I guess I'll let you know.
This morning, as I was making the Cheerios he soon would refuse to eat, my darling son took a pair of scissors and cut a hole in the only pair of clean shorts I have.
So, the adventure of today is that I will either wear dirty clothes, clothes with a freshly cut hole in, or nothing pending my doing some laundry. Wow! I feel like Indiana Frickin' Jones!
And the blessing is... well, I guess I'll let you know.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Baby Steps
When people refer to me as "Mr. Keeble" I am still in the habit of looking over my shoulder for my dad. It is especially funny when a 4-year-old child I have known all their life does it. Clearly, some parents want their kids to grow up respecting their elders, but I much, much prefer "Penny's Daddy" to "Mr. Keeble" as a title. I am obviously better at losing my identity as an individual regarding my children as I am losing it to my parents. Hmmm...
Anyway! Taking the long process towards becoming a published author, I am happy whenever an inch advancement takes place. This morning I was confirmed a member of the Society of Authors, of which membership is limited to... well... authors. I was already a member-in-waiting since they went over my contract with a fine-toothed comb on my behalf, but now I have been approved ("just a formality in your case" wrote their membership secretary, giving me a huge swelling of ego-boost power) and now I've been voted in no less.
Yay me!
Anyway! Taking the long process towards becoming a published author, I am happy whenever an inch advancement takes place. This morning I was confirmed a member of the Society of Authors, of which membership is limited to... well... authors. I was already a member-in-waiting since they went over my contract with a fine-toothed comb on my behalf, but now I have been approved ("just a formality in your case" wrote their membership secretary, giving me a huge swelling of ego-boost power) and now I've been voted in no less.
Yay me!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Suddenly Summer
You know, being a stay-at-home-dad in the summer used to be the shizzle.
I would wake up, cart the kids the park, hang out chatting with the SAHMs, come home, kids would nap, I would sunbathe in the back yard, they would wake up, I would throw some meat on the grill, wife comes home, snip snip, Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your aunt.
I also swore, as is well documented, that I would never complain about the heat. I don't "do" cold well, and every February I find it hard to get motivated.
Well, this summer is the most oppressive I can remember since the infamous summer of '03 where it rained all weekend, every weekend. It might as well be February. To go outside is no fun at all. I am bug-bitten from head to toe. The house is either like a sauna, or rattling to the tune of the air-conditioner shuffle. The kids aren't napping or sleeping well, and we've grilled maybe three times this season.
All this is made worse because there is no school, and we didn't send either kid to summer camp. So, at this point, the kids are sick of the sight of me. There's also no money in the bank, as is usually the case three days before payday. So, on a budget of $4 a day, with 120% humidity outside, and with the threat of rain not actually becoming actual rain, I have a couple of hard, sweaty days ahead. I need a break from this job, and this family, so badly - for at least two reasons: 1) I have to deliver my final, final draft of the book in about four weeks. 2) I am losing my effing mind.
I would wake up, cart the kids the park, hang out chatting with the SAHMs, come home, kids would nap, I would sunbathe in the back yard, they would wake up, I would throw some meat on the grill, wife comes home, snip snip, Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your aunt.
I also swore, as is well documented, that I would never complain about the heat. I don't "do" cold well, and every February I find it hard to get motivated.
Well, this summer is the most oppressive I can remember since the infamous summer of '03 where it rained all weekend, every weekend. It might as well be February. To go outside is no fun at all. I am bug-bitten from head to toe. The house is either like a sauna, or rattling to the tune of the air-conditioner shuffle. The kids aren't napping or sleeping well, and we've grilled maybe three times this season.
All this is made worse because there is no school, and we didn't send either kid to summer camp. So, at this point, the kids are sick of the sight of me. There's also no money in the bank, as is usually the case three days before payday. So, on a budget of $4 a day, with 120% humidity outside, and with the threat of rain not actually becoming actual rain, I have a couple of hard, sweaty days ahead. I need a break from this job, and this family, so badly - for at least two reasons: 1) I have to deliver my final, final draft of the book in about four weeks. 2) I am losing my effing mind.
Friday, August 03, 2007
My vow
I swore in the dead of the snows of February that I would never complain it was too hot. Really, I would rather it was 90 than 40 degrees.
Today, I am coming very close to abandoning that stance because it's so darn hot - and it's not even 8am. My temper is on a hair trigger, my sanity about to snap. The kids aren't doing anything too crazy (refusing their third option of breakfast is hardly unusual nor the worst crime they could commit), but because I am already a sweaty mass, holding off from turning on the noisy, bloody annoying air conditioner, I am ready to consider offers from white slave traders looking for two bargains.
All that said, I managed a trip to the town's swimming lake this week and was able to sit under my umbrella and watch my kids frolic in the sand and water WITHOUT EVEN STANDING UP MYSELF for nearly two hours. It was a corner I have long waited to turn.
This afternoon sees a birthday party at one of those indoors gym places parents will be all-to-familiar with. I am actually excited about the prospect of adult interaction while the kids play unattended (by me at least.)
Today, I am coming very close to abandoning that stance because it's so darn hot - and it's not even 8am. My temper is on a hair trigger, my sanity about to snap. The kids aren't doing anything too crazy (refusing their third option of breakfast is hardly unusual nor the worst crime they could commit), but because I am already a sweaty mass, holding off from turning on the noisy, bloody annoying air conditioner, I am ready to consider offers from white slave traders looking for two bargains.
All that said, I managed a trip to the town's swimming lake this week and was able to sit under my umbrella and watch my kids frolic in the sand and water WITHOUT EVEN STANDING UP MYSELF for nearly two hours. It was a corner I have long waited to turn.
This afternoon sees a birthday party at one of those indoors gym places parents will be all-to-familiar with. I am actually excited about the prospect of adult interaction while the kids play unattended (by me at least.)
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