Zadorables

14 is a strange number

I can’t believe she’s 14 already.

I swear I took that one yesterday… Sigh.

Bonne fête ma cocotte! 😉
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I am a Rebel

A Rebel EOS XSi.

If you follow me on the Twitter and/or on the Facebook, you already know that CutieDaughter won first place in her cheer leading competition on Saturday.

Like the good dad that I am, I spent 3 hours sitting in bleachers, and I took 285 pictures. I did manage to add a few pictures to my “Can’t park” collection…

Exhibit 20120211-A : Ignoring the lines for no apparent reason.

Exhibit 20120211-B: Parking on the sidewalk because it looked like a space.

Of course, all the competition pictures are colored blurry lines – it’s quite a challenge to take decent pictures when at a great distance.

I did however manage so take at least a few decent shots at the end.

Gold baby, Gold! (Not real gold)

So everyone was happy and had a great time. Now to delete those 280 useless pics…

 

One of those DAD posts

You know what is really really hard?

Come on, get it out of your system… I can hear you say “that’s what she said” from here. 

What is really really hard is parenting other people’s kids. In fact, it’s not “really really hard”, it’s damn near impossible. Okay, it’s impossible. Parenting your own kid is hard enough as it is – I could give you a thousand examples of the situations that are making me lose my mind as a dad and even as a human being in general. I already wrote about how my son got shot in the park, I already asked you for advice about letting CutieDaughter get a Facebook account, I already told you about ripping the wings of butterflies, and of course I already told you that when it comes to my kids I’m a complete emotional mess.

As a dad, I get through those moments by thinking about the eventual benefits we’ll get as a family once we go through the crap. That is what keeps me going, and often a healthy dose of Whisky.

But when it comes to other people’s kids, there’s no real incentive to go through the crap with/for them because quite frankly the rewards would not be mine to enjoy anyways. I’m not saying that always prevents me from trying. I am a real softie at heart you know, and can’t stand the thought of giving up on anyone. Even kids that are mean to my kids.

In that spirit of not giving up on anyone, I spent about an hour chatting on Facebook with a friend of CutieDaughter.

A friend who basically spent an hour writing that my daughter was the biggest liar who ever lived, and also that she really missed her on Facebook since they were BFF. A friend who calls my house at 2am and hangs up when I pick up. A friend who made my daughter cry more times than I care to recall.

I give up.

Goodbye, friend.

The Last Sleepover

Zoé went to her last sleepover yesterday.

“How can you know it was her last sleepover?” I hear you ask out loud in your office / living room / favorite coffee shop.

Because I’m not really a dumbass. I just comb my hair in  a certain way and that makes me LOOK like a dumbass.

“So how was your sleepover?” I asked.

“The girls had fun scaring me all night. They pretended that someone was at the front door, and was trying to get inside the house. In the end it was really funny, but I was a little scared.” She explained.

“How did they manage to do that?”

She then told me about the configuration on the house, and how one friend pretended to go to the bathroom but really went knocking at the front door instead, how they all went down the stairs but never went all the way to the door and ran back upstairs, where they called (pretended to call really) the girl’s dad , mom and brothers but no one would pick up their phone. It was all really scary but they soon admitted what they were doing and everything was fine. They had fun.

Except she never got to that point.

We were parked in the coffee place parking lot, waiting for LovelyWife to pick-up some tea for her office. I had tilted the rear view mirror, and was asking her about her night.

“So how was your sleepover?” I asked.

“The girls had fun scaring me all night. They pretended that someone was at the front door, and was trying to get inside the house. In the end it was really funny, but I was a little scared.” She explained.

“How did they manage to do that?”

She then told me about the configuration on the house, and how one friend pretended to go to the bathroom but really went knocking at the front door instead, how they all went down the stairs but never went all the way to the door and ran back upstairs, where they called (pretended to call really) the girl’s dad…

I made “WTF are you talking about?” with my eyes.

[Awkward Pause]

I said: “Did you know there wasn’t going to be any adult in the house for that sleepover? And why didn’t you call me when you realized you had no supervision?”

“I didn’t want to have to come back home.”

So because there were no adults present at the sleepover, but more importantly because Zoé knew it was wrong to not call me when she realized no adult was there, and mainly because she tried to pull a fast one on me, Zoé went to her last sleepover yesterday.

For a while.

For a long long while.

I’m going to have to find ways to rebuild that trust as fast as possible.  This is not going to be easy.