More Toilet Tales

Why not? I have nothing else to do....

Our plumber came by on Wednesday and installed yet another new toilet (to replace the new toilet he installed in October). And not just any new toilet - this toilet has a jet-propelled flush which, he claimed, could swallow 8 golfballs without a problem. I told him to keep his voice down - we simply do not need to give Rachel any new ideas. In fact, the device struck me as sounding rather dangerous, but he solicitously reassured me that this was just the toilet for us. He said, and I quote, "When the salesman came to our shop last month and showed us this new model, I thought of you." I guess I'll take that as a compliment. Some people have an interior designer; I have a personal plumber.

So that was Wednesday. Thursday night I had the rather dubious pleasure of calling him up and informing him that his indestructible toilet had been laid low (on the first try) by my 4-year-old. Atta girl, Rachel! I'm so proud. It seems that the power flush (which is, I must admit, very impressive) fascinated her. Drop something in and WHOOSH! it's gone; drop something else in and WHOOSH!...well, I'm sure you get the idea. John (that's our plumber - might as well know his name, he's practically a member of the family now) came by Friday and fixed it, but he seemed a little shaken up by the whole experience. He did get to meet my father (who's been bankrolling this whole plumbing extravaganza); so now at least Grandpa knows I'm not making any of this up.

Anyway, Larry's home for the weekend, which is a blessed relief to me; at least I can't get blamed for not watching Rachel enough. I went out early and did some errands and Larry kept control of things on the homefront. Or so he thought....(insert evil laugh here). On his watch someone went down to the basement, got their hands on some confectioner's sugar, and pretended it was, um, snow. After we finished cleaning up the family room and interrogating the usual suspect, Larry headed out to Home Depot to pick up a lock and padlock for the refrigerator. I'd like to say at this point that I'm noticing a pattern here. I've been spending the last 4 months racking my brain for innovative behavior modification techniques to solve our incorrigible-child problem, while Larry has responded to any new Rachel challenge with some sort of technological solution (did I mention that he loved the jet-propelled flush concept?). Think of Wily E. Coyote going to all sorts of ridiculous extremes to outwit Roadrunner. At first he (Larry, that is, not Wily) put locks on all the doors. When that didn't work, he installed a motion sensor inside Rachel's room, over the door. The sensor worked, until that little monster stole it (don't know how - I mean, I couldn't even reach it). So Larry - not to be outdone - upgraded to an honest-to-God home sentry system. Now all our bathroom doors chime when we open them (sounds sort of nice, actually). And Rachel's bedroom door, too (the one with 3 - count them, 3 - locks on it). For reasons unknown to us (we refuse to accept the "she's smarter than us" explanation), none of this has stopped her. All I know is, we're really in trouble when I see Larry coming home with a case of Acme dynamite to rig to that toilet.

Actually, we are really in trouble. And that child psychologist we saw on Friday wasn't even worth the $20 copay. Rachel had her number in a heartbeat. That woman must talk to some very stupid 4-year-olds.

We had our annual Chanukah party tonight, and Larry took a walk on the wild side by actually letting Rachel out of her room for it (over my protests). He even let her play dreidel with everyone. I felt it necessary to warn the other kids to keep an eye on their money. For some reason Grandpa still thinks Rachel is cute, even though she's cost him close to $3000. I offered to let Grandma and Grandpa take her back home with them, and they laughed at me. That wasn't nice.

Have I mentioned my plan for Christmas? I'm going to get someone to dress up in a Santa suit and go into Rachel's room on Christmas Eve and spank her, all the time chortling, "Ho, ho, ho!" and "Merry Christmas!" I think that that would provide Larry and me with some much-needed Christmas cheer. And it beats our drinking ourselves into an alcoholic stupor.

Holiday Spirits

Ahh...the holiday season...wrapping presents, baking cookies, looking for our missing cellphones...yes, Rachel is still on a rampage. I don't really want to talk about her much right now. We're hoping the (loud) motion sensor Larry installed in her room has some diminishing effect on her activities. You can't blame him, he's still mad about all that beer she poured into the VCR.

I'm just trying to decide - what does one get for one's plumber for Christmas? He feels like a member of the family already. Of course, maybe he should get us something instead. I mean, he has all our money. He just got back from a trip to Aruba. Must have been nice.

Maybe the child psychologist will know what to buy him - we get to meet her on Friday. I bet she begs us not to come back. I don't think she's the right person to see, anyway. We're not dealing with a child here - we're dealing with an adult career criminal in a 4-year-old's body.

Enough already! It's the holiday season and I'm looking forward to entertaining friends and family. We kick off our December party season with our annual Chanukah party this Saturday night. With any luck, no one in our immediate family will be throwing up, like they did on Thanksgiving. Most of our guests showed up anyway (they must really like turkey) and showed no ill effects afterwards. Still, it was a bit of a damper on the festivities.

What with all the damage inflicted recently by an out-of-control preschooler and a temper-tantrum-throwing 13-year-old, my house is now tastefully decorated in what appears to be a cross between Modern Jailhouse and Shabby Chic. I think I'll just serve lots of liquor so no one notices. Lots and lots. What Larry and I haven't drunk up already in an attempt to self-medicate, that is.

You know, you raise the children you have, not the children you wish you had.

I actually got around to making photo Christmas cards this year - I figured they'd be more interesting than a plain card, as I never manage to finish a Christmas newsletter. Actually, I didn't even try this year - too painful. All I can remember is that we were sick the first half of the year, and then Rachel and Anna went berserk for the second half. In fact, it seems quite likely to me that their weird behaviors were precipitated by some sort of a virus. Or bacteria. Or maybe a prion-eating disease of the brain. Perhaps I should contact the CDC. All I know is, it's not our fault. We feed them, we shelter them, we clothe them, and we don't even yell at them (much). Larry and I are most emphatically not taking the fall for this problem.

And, yes, I am feeling a tad defensive tonight. I'm telling you, as parents we were on top of our game only 4 short months ago, and just look at us now. It's pitiful. Erstwhile confident, in-charge authority figures (yes, us) are currently reduced to begging a 4-year-old girl with big eyes and cute curls to "please, please tell us where Daddy's cellphone is, honey!" and to searching her room every night for hidden scissors and other implements of destruction. Or we lie in bed at night, plotting ways to get back at our insolent teenage daughter while listening warily for the sound of the motion detector placed strategically in Rachel's room. Oh, how the mighty have fallen....

And, no, Theo, David, Brian, and Susie haven't run away yet. They're just a little shaken up, is all.

Time to go to bed - can't let Rachel wake up before me....

Of Teens and Tots

Well, we've had a little bit of improvement on the teenage front around here. We told Anna that she was grounded until she did everything expected of her without being told and started acting like a human being again. The turnaround has been amazing. I guess she realized that 5 years could be a very long time. Of course, she still hates us; but we're past caring.

Theo and Larry are escaping on a weekend bike trip tomorrow morning. That leaves me as chief prison warden, making sure that Rachel doesn't get her hands on anything that she could possibly do mischief with. Which is, uh, everything you can imagine. She scares me. I don't want to be left alone with her. Preschool isn't helping. The teachers there pride themselves on teaching the children to improve their fine motor skills and to become more independent. Just what we need. Thanks a lot.

Oh, and Rachel knows how to drive. She told me so. We don't doubt it for a minute. Larry and I are assiduously hiding all car keys.

Halloween went well, though Larry once again took all my candy to his office the next day. He could have left me a few pieces, don't you think? He says it was all gone by the end of the day. And he thinks I'm a glutton.

Theo turned 15 and we couldn't think of anything really wow to get for him. But next year, that's different. He'll be 16, and eligible for a driver's permit, and we all know what that means - it means he is getting a really, really nice bicycle. Because we won't be able to afford car insurance for a teenage male. But, hey, it doesn't matter - Rachel knows how to drive. And I don't think State Farm has any insurance rates for 4-year-old girls.

Thanksgiving's coming - yes! No gifts, just food - how simple can it get? Roll out Tom Turkey, cook some cranberry sauce, round up anyone who has nowhere to go - instant holiday! I wish December were that easy. One good thing, though - we're not traveling all the way up to Maine this Christmas. Seems Auntie Kate, um, felt a little uneasy about having our 4-year-old monster staying in her house after the slashed-suitcase incident (see previous post). Talk about a silver lining...

Total Craziness

Wow - I haven't bothered you guys in almost 3 weeks. You must have been hoping I'd gone away. No such luck. I've just been waiting for things to settle down a bit here so I could write and say that everything's all right, Rachel is behaving, Anna loves us, and all that. Unfortunately, I can't write that. Our house is looking a bit bizarre at this point, I must say. Sliding bolts on the outside of all the bathroom and bedroom doors (and the closets); a 4-year-old happily playing at the kitchen table while strapped to her chair with 2 velcro cargo straps; bathrooms stripped bare of any item that could conceivably be flushed down a toilet. Sort of an Addams Family feel, really. We have to lock Rachel into her room at night, as we discovered that she was getting up in the middle of the night and working on her "projects" in the boys' walk-in closet. Mounted stuffed animal heads, pillow-casing Halloween ghosts, you name it. And plugging up the powder room toilet on her way back to bed. Thank God she has never figured out where we keep the matches. Larry strips and searches her bed every night, to make sure there are no scissors, stuffed animal heads, or glue hidden there. Still, she manages to continue. Today she got hold of my hot-glue gun and, well, it wasn't pretty. Apparently, she had figured out how to use it by watching Theo mend some books that she had ripped the covers off of.

It didn't help that we had houseguests last week. We tried to warn them. Auntie Kate really wasn't happy to come back from a day of touring in DC to find her suitcase (the new one, with the lock) slashed open. I think that was the day Rachel got her hands on Theo's Swiss Army knife. Yes, she is a monster. And, yes, we are obviously totally incompetent as parents. If anyone would like to take her off our hands and demonstrate the proper way to raise her, feel free. Take my daughter....please.

Well, I could go on and on; but you get the idea. Tomorrow she starts preschool, and Larry and I can hardly wait. We've discussed warning Rachel's teacher, but what is the use? She'll never believe us. We'll probably just stick with Larry's plan; i.e., we'll drop Rachel off in her classroom, yell, "No backsies!" and run for the car.

Of course, we tried that with Anna at the middle school and she just keeps coming back. Oh, well. She spends her weekends actively loathing us all. At this point, the feeling is becoming mutual.

Happily, Halloween is approaching and I can try to immerse myself in preparations for the still-sane children in the family. Brian and David are both going as bats (see? Rachel is driving us batty), and Susie is going to be a nice fat pumpkin. Rachel unfortunately lost trick-or-treating privileges after the glue-gun incident today. Not that that will make a bit of difference in her behavior. I don't know what Anna is planning, as she isn't really speaking to me right now. Theo, for the first time, has declared himself as too old to trick-or-treat. Can driving be far behind?

Playing With Scissors

Well, Rachel seems to have put her toilet-stuffing phase behind her. Maybe we can just forget all those unhappy episodes, at least after Larry patches up the holes in the livingroom ceiling. The house is still habitable, after all; fortunately, my teenagers know where to find the shut-off valve for the upstairs toilet. I'm just glad we didn't have to call the plumber. It would have been hard to explain to him exactly why there were 3 large towels shoved into the toilet. As a matter of fact, we're having a hard time understanding it ourselves.

Unfortunately, Rachel has instead become obsessed with scissors. And, yes, we've hidden all of them, and, yes, I am watching her constantly. It's getting to the point where Larry dreads coming home from work, as he doesn't want to hear the latest Rachel exploit when what he really needs is a beer and some peace and quiet. I'm living some bad I Love Lucy episode - just picture Larry as Desi Arnaz, waving his alarm clock with the cord snipped in two and saying, "Looocy, you have some 'splainin' to do!" And I'm standing there, wringing my hands, and insisting, "I didn't take my eyes off her for a minute, Ricky!" Lately she's been laying off the electrical stuff in favor of what appears to be her true calling - amateur taxidermist. We've had to stow all the stuffed animals for safekeeping until Rachel stops decapitating them and mounting their heads on the wall as trophies. True, this seems to be a rather sophisticated prank for a 4-year-old; but our by now well-honed interrogation methods have exonerated both Brian and Theo. As for David, he was absolutely prostrate with grief over Froggy and Teddy Bear. He spent all of one evening sewing Teddy's head back on.

The scary part is, Rachel just will not stop. Every day, somewhere in the house, Larry or I will stumble upon mute witness to her obsession - nothing big, just a headless bear, say, with its arms sticking out as if to plead, "Help me!" And the head itself will be nowhere in sight. Because she hides them. Yes, that's right - she collects heads, so she can mount them later. Now, I've thumbed through many a child development book in my day; and I just don't recall seeing this sort of thing mentioned in "Your Child at Four" or "The Magic Years" or the like. She hasn't, of course, victimized her own animal, a very attractive white stuffed rabbit. So Larry, obviously feeling desperate, told her a few days ago that he would take Bunny away if he found another headless body. That's right, folks - "Stop it, or the rabbit gets it!" It probably would have been smarter for him to take Bunny hostage then and there; because the next day, there was another headless bear, and Bunny was nowhere to be found. Because Rachel hid it. Remember all the Bugs Bunny episodes where Elmer Fudd throws down his gun and jumps up and down with steam coming out of his ears as he says, "oooh, that wascally wabbit!"? That's what Larry looked like when he realized he'd been outsmarted by a 4-year-old. I must admit, I haven't laughed so hard in years.

We need to physically restrain Rachel, that's all. I would google "shackles (size small)," but I'm betting that the results would be as shocking as they were when I googled "slave costume" for Anna. Better yet, we could ship Rachel off to preschool; but I think the shackles would be cheaper than even one month's tuition. And I can only find half-day programs anyway.

Other children? Oh, yes, them....well, Anna still hates us. We're the worst parents ever. Compliment accepted. And let me point out that her father spent his weekend off painting her room the color she wants it. We should have painted it black. David has turned into a very helpful, competent young man; that is, when he isn't mourning yet another decapitated friend. Brian is 6 1/2 now, which can be an annoying age for little boys; but as anything he does pales in comparison with the deeds of his demonically-possessed 4-year-old sister, we still regard him as a positive addition to our family. Susie is enchanting, toddling around with her fat little legs and cute baby shoes. Of course, Rachel used to be enchanting, also. Theo used to be my right-hand man around here, but now he spends all his time taking pictures of Rachel's latest exploit or else trying to understand his Algebra text. Both our gardens are suffering monstrous neglect.

Well, it's time to get ready to celebrate Larry's birthday. He's 39 today; but, for some reason or other, he's been looking a lot older lately.