Sprite's Keeper

Journey to The Dark Side (Come on, you know you want to..)

Something astonishing has happened over the last couple of weeks. John has been taking time off of World of Warcraft.

(I'll pause here to let it sink in. I know. I'm still a little dazed.)

I didn't know if the reason behind this sudden stall in gaming was the new job, or the fact that he's been a little under the weather lately, or the lunar cycles. And then I questioned his recent interest in joining me in my alone time long before his 10PM curfew.

"Well, I don't know. I'm not feeling all that well and it takes a lot of skill and concentration to play."

"Yes, yes, I understand that. Walking and dying can be taxing on your fingers. Cut the crap. Why aren't you playing so much anymore?"

(Pause)

"Well..."

"Why aren't you joining any raids?"

"I'm not playing so much with those guys anymore."

"Why?"

"Because their skill levels are much higher than mine and..."

"And?"

"Well..."

"What, they don't want to play with you anymore?"

John rolled his eyes. "Not exactly. They want me to practice and go do a few quests on my own and then I should be able-"

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped my mouth. "They threw you out of the guild?"

Silence. (Oh, damn, was this going to be a milk-n-cookie heart-to-heart moment?)

"So, are you practicing?"

"Jen, it's boring when you're doing it on your own and the only people to partner with are either lowbies or kids."

(Lowbies. I like that. Like newbies, but not new. Just low. Oh, sorry, back to the conversation.)

I thought of something. "Why don't you play with Justin?" (Another WoW friend.)

"He's a bad guy."

"So? Be a bad guy."

John shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work. If the guild found out I had a bad character, they would flip out."

"So, don't tell them you're a bad guy." Ooh, idea! "AND, hide your identity, find out where they are, and attack 'em! You know their skills and maneuvers, easy kills!" (I still can't believe we had this conversation.)

John actually seemed to consider this. So, I kept going.

"Can you be both characters at the same time?"

"I would have to have two accounts to do that."

"So, get yourself another account so you can be in both places at once, like a mole! You know, go all 24 on their ass!"

John started laughing. "Don't you think they'll question why I'm the only one not getting killed?"

"Nah, they'll be too busy dying to notice you're still standing. Then you can collect all their crap and flee like the evil bad ass you are."

John looked a little surprised that I was actually encouraging him to foray deeper into the abyss that is World of Warcraft, but this conversation taught me a few lessons:

1. I actually enjoy my time alone and John's interest in joining me for my alone time is not conducive to my alone time. (Redundant much?)

2. I want John to be able to have his creative outlet and therefore I will continue to encourage that outlet even if the outlet is plugged into the World of Warcraft server.

3. I need to work on my milk-n-cookie heart-to-heart moments and try not to suggest revenge as a solution to problems.

4. Milk-n-cookie heart-to-heart moments are not just between parent and child, I guess, proof evident in the above conversation.

5. Sometimes, it's good to be bad. (Oh, yeah...)

I haven't asked John since this conversation whether or not he would actually go through with it and he was playing the game last night, but I didn't ask if his character was a good witch or a bad witch.

My guess is that he's still a good witch, because he was dying a lot.

And in the World of Warcraft, only the good die often.

(Yes, I know that was a Billy Joel song, but I changed it to suit my needs. My blog, mine!)

It Ends With Cheese

My sister and nephew were over for the holiday weekend, sharing a spaghetti dinner with John, me, and the noodle flinging blob of sauce formally known as Sprite.

A bug (house fly) (Latin origin unknown, and I am so not looking it up, people) (All right, fine, the Latin name is probably DOMESTICUS IRRITATINGUS, happy?) had somehow gotten into the house and was buzzing around our table, either to try to partake of the meal we were enjoying or perhaps trying to warn everyone else about my cooking and the possible stomach endeavors to follow. Either way, it was annoying, but it did set off a sequence of events never played out in my home before:

Bryan: "Kill the bug!"

Lee Ann: "Bryan, eat your spaghetti."

John:"Where is my fly swatter?"

Sprite:"Nummy."

Bryan: "I can't eat. The bug keeps coming close. It's gonna touch my food."

John: "Seriously, where the hell is my fly swatter?"

Bryan:"Why do we have bugs anyway? They're not good for anything."

Me: "That's not true."

Sprite: "Eat."

Bryan: "Why?"

Oh, crap. He called my bluff. Um.... My mind could not pull up an answer.

Me: "Ask your mom."

Lee shot me a look across the table and then gave an appropriate response. How are we related?

Lee: "All bugs have a purpose here. Either as food for other animals or to help keep the system in order. Every bug has a reason to live."

John: "Except this one." The bug swooped in to pause over his plate and John tried to slap at it.

Swing and a miss.

Me: "This bug is good for nothing, therefore this bug MUST DIE."

Bryan (laughing): "Die!"

Lee: "Jenny..."

Seriously, how are we related?

Bryan: "I don't want this bug near my food!"

Sprite: "Boo!"

Me: "Sprite, stop teasing the dogs."

Bryan: "Go away, bug!"

The bug came to rest in the middle of the table. Sprite threw her handful of noodles to the floor, narrowly missing the beagle. John grabbed the bag of shredded cheese.

Bryan: "Kill it!"

Lee: "Bryan, lower your voice!"

Me: "Sprite, no!"

Sprite: "All done!"

John: "It ends here."

His arm arced in the air and the bag of cheese aimed for the bug.

SWAT!

I don't care what she says, the cup still had milk in it.

This morning, John gave Sprite her sippy cup (yup, still called a "noah") of milk while we raced around to get out of the house on time.

Sprite came over to me as I was gathering our things.

"All done," she announced, waving her cup at me. "Empty."

I took the cup and shook it a bit. Nope, there was still milk in there. "I don't think so," I responded, holding it back out to her.

Sprite ignored the cup and smiled at me. "I think so."

She turned away, walked to the pantry door and pushed on it to make sure it was shut. "I think so," she repeated, walking out of the kitchen.

I could hear John chortling in the bathroom. He had heard. And he also heard the silence as I clearly didn't have a comeback to her sass.

Tomorrow morning, my routine will go like this:

1. Drink coffee.

2. Wake up toddler.

The current arrangement is just not working for me.

Sweet and Snarky

It's been a while since I posted a John and Sprite picture, but this one is guaranteed to melt your hard wires.
I hope you've updated all your files since this picture is going to make your motherboard a little melty.

That's sweet. I'm gonna frame that one.

Oh, wait, here's a picture..

I'm gonna frame that one too..

"I Can See Clearly Now, The Rain Is Gone"

So, a couple of you have asked for updates on John's new job. Does he like it? Is he satisfied with the new place? Is he getting along with his new co-workers? Has he picked a candidate? Boxers or briefs? Does he know who will go to the World Series?

Here are your answers: Yes, he likes it. A lot. He is extremely satisfied with everything this place seems to represent and is playing nicely with the other kids. He has not picked a candidate, but he's very interested to see which way my political pendulum will swing. Boxer-briefs. He does not know who will go to the World Series since he tends not to pick a team until the 11th hour into the Series when he suddenly becomes a die hard fan. (It happened when the Marlins won that last time and I've been razzing him on and off since then. I guess it's on again.) (He's probably going to be upset with me about some of the above information, but I think the World Series thing is pretty funny, so eh.)

John is constantly telling me the perks about this new place. (It's actually cute.)

"There's space for a possible day care here! That suggestion has been tossed around." Interesting. That would make any movement of Sprite more tolerable as Daddy would be steps away. Although that would submerge her into his geek kingdom even further than I would be comfortable with. (I'm going to think this one over a bit.)

"They're even considering adding a wellness center so you can work out on your breaks!" I like that idea. John's been known to rock the biceps.

"They have a nap room!" Wha? What kind of new age Google inspired company is this? (Yes, I'm freaking jealous.)

"Some of the network administrators are trying to get management to install a World of Warcraft server!" His eyes almost glaze over with this information. My eyes glaze over with boredom and a wee bit of frustration.

"Hey, Jen! They're going to a baseball game tonight and the entire department is invited!"

Go ahead, John. Sprite and I will sit and stare at your picture for a few hours before we pass out from sheer loneliness, but we'll survive. We love you. Don't drink and drive. (I snark because I love.)

We're enjoying the carpooling so far too. The money we've saved on gas this week is more than compensation for getting home a little later than normal. We may be stuck in more traffic, but we're stuck TOGETHER. (Everyone say "Aw!")

He is saying that this job is really a blessing and much better than his old one, so I guess the rocky road we've just gone through was worth it for this ending. (I just wish I was better able to handle the unknown and more of a cheerleader than a worrywart.)

So, that sums things up on the job front. John is very happy and optimistic with this new company. He believes he has found a fit and we're really not that bad off from the two weeks he had in between gigs. In a matter of weeks, we should even be back to rights financially.

He's happy.

And his office is still clean, which means I'm happy.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Tuesday, Toddlers, and Tires- A Karma-dy!

Did I mention that I used to like Tuesdays?

"Tuesday! Why hast thou forsaken me? Because I blogged about you? Issues, dude!"

All right, it had been two weeks since John was laid off and a day after he got hired at his new company, so Tuesdays already had a black mark upon them. But this Tuesday, even though it lost to last Tuesday, made a valliant effort to be miserable.

As the work day ended, I looked forward to making the trek home with a hungry Sprite, get her fed, make a casserole for a Pot Luck my job was having the next day, and take on the Nord. I had a full plate.

Tuesday decided I needed more..

I picked Sprite up from school and we made our way home with the rest of the rush hour warriors. Our route has a break in it where the majority of the travelers separate from the rest, thus lifting the congestion and making the ride a little smoother.

When we hit the break, my dash emitted a audible warning. I looked and read that my tire pressure was low. I considered this as I continued on my way, although fate would not have me consider it for long. ("Cue ominous music!") 

Ten seconds after the light came on, I felt the vehicle shake slightly as a burring sound (That's the only way I know to describe it, like someone rolling their "r". Which reminds me, I can not roll my "r"s. John, Spanish being his original language, can roll em with the best of them. So, I think he should roll mine too, saving me the effort and humiliation when people think I'm trying to swallow my own tongue.) as I immediately removed my foot from the gas and shoved it full on into my mouth to stop the fresh stream of curses about to spew out.

I steered the van into a recently abandoned model home parking lot (there are tons of these in my area with empty parking lots to match the increasing amount of empty houses) and got out to check. Yup. There it was. Right rear wheel, flat. Crap.

Sprite was busy watching a DVD while trying to strangle her doll with its own hair (Huh, looks like she'll be a multi-tasker.) and ambivalent to my stress as I grabbed the cell phone and dialed R-E-L-I-E-F (Read: home).

"Hello?"

"John, I've got a flat."

"(Sigh). Where are you?"

I did my best to provide proper landmarks and hung up, waiting for my knight in his silver Honda to drive up and save us as I noticed thunderclouds looming in the distance.

John arrived with his Fix-A-Flat can and we tried to patch the tire. No go. "There's the problem", John said as he looked around the tire. A 2 inch wide razor was embedded into the tread. As the can emptied into the tire, the air came rushing out through the razor wide hole. "We're going to have to change it."

As John set about getting the jack out of the van and the spare tire from under the van, and (smart man, I told you I married a smart man) provided some cookies he had thought to bring along for the now impatient Sprite who wanted food or would start rioting, he mentioned to me in passing, "When you blog about this, tell them that this isn't the first time I've come through for you." O-kay.

This isn't the first time he's come through for me. (If you want more than that, you'll need to ask for it.)

Thunder sounded overhead and fat raindrops began to dot the pavement with the promise of a beat down if we didn't get our butts in gear. I helped John as best I could (mostly standing over him and making sure he knew that if he didn't get this tire on quickly, I would nag him endlessly. I'm not sure if he was trying to beat the rain or shut me up, but it worked.)

Lightning flashed across the sky as we quickly stowed the now defunct original tire and random jacks and nuts (Why was there a spare nut? Is that bad?) and made our way home to save the rest of the evening.

The end. (No, it isn't, but I'm sure I've reached the end of your patience level.)

Oh, yeah, Tuesday? You are officially on notice.

Sunny Days Keeping the Clouds Away

Eight o'clock this morning, I eagerly took a call,

And got the news of ending rains, clear skies ahead after all.

John had taken an offer from a reputable firm,

To continue in his IT position in a permanent kind of term.

Spelling the end of our drama, our trauma, our angst,

Breaking the wall of uncertainty that we'd been pinned against.

Now, I feel whole again, the weight is off my chest,

The stormy weather is calming down and we're catching up on rest.

We can pick back up again, with nothing going into hock,

And save this site from certain doom (I was getting writer's block).

So, Internet, on behalf of John, I'm offering our thanks,

And promise I'll be back to writing about Sprite's hijanks. ( jinks. Yeah, um, I meant that..)

Every Potty has a Pooper..

"Poopy?"

I look up from my place of repose on Sprite's bedroom floor and focus on her. "Did you go poopy?"

Sprite is standing next to her Tickle Me Elmo, which is face down on the floor twitching as it tries to right itself. She is grabbing at her tushy as she watches me. "Poopy."

I move over to her and take a sniff for the tell-tale whiff. Nothing. "Do you need to go potty?"

She nods.

Could it be? Could she finally baptize the potty? "Well, let's go," I say, getting to my feet and leading the way to her potty and possibly the way to a diaper free child. (Long way to go, I know, but let me dream.)

We walk into the guest bathroom where her potty chair has been sitting, a little neglected for a couple of months. She has had a passing interest in it if only to activate the sounds by sitting on it and then running off.

I get down onto the floor and Sprite stands next to me as she stares at the potty.

"Potty," she comments, pointing to the little throne.

"Potty," I affirm, as I pull at the tabs on her diaper and take the absorbent barrier away.

Sprite is now naked from the waist down. She stands, facing the potty chair. She looks almost as if she's psyching herself up to do it. To be a big girl. To sit on the potty and get a sticker.

Then, before I can do anything, she pees on the bathroom rug. As she's facing the potty. A foot away from the potty.

My only reaction? I laugh. I laugh hard.

Sprite continues to stand there watching me lose it and John walks in and assesses the situation.

"Come on, sweetie," he croons, picking up the wet toddler. "Let's take a bath while Mommy pulls herself together." He looks over at me. "How can you laugh at her? You're not teaching her self confidence by laughing at her attempts to learn."

I keep laughing, way beyond redemption. "I'm sorry," I gasp.

He walks off with Sprite, leaving me and the wet rug behind.

He's right. How am I going to be a positive role model when I find humor in everything she does?

I need to clean up my act. But first, I need to clean up the rug.

(Next time, I'll make sure to seat her as soon as the air hits her tushy.)

Any News?

Not yet.

(Was that worth linking to me?)

(Sorry for the tease.)

John and the Sprite

Okay, so I finally figured out why people have been asking me if I bequeathed Sprite her nickname based on "Johnny and the Sprites". My blank stare in response to this question before recently was enough reply for me since I thought people were referencing a 50's doo-wop group and I'm all, "Dude, I'm in my thirties? My early thirties? Do you think I would know about that? Or are you hinting at something else?"

Now, I get it. (Or, now I get the Disney Channel.) We got a dvd of the show and watched it a bit. Hm. Yeah. Um. How long has this show been on the air? And did the director never watch "Fraggle Rock"? Now, there was a good puppet show with plots which tackled actual issues. And poor Sprocket never got Doc's attention in time to see the mysterious Fraggles. (Bring back the Fraggles!) (By lucky coincidence, they are back! On sale now! Check your local stores or Internet for the box sets! Collect all three! ) (No, I'm not getting paid for that plug..... Should I be?)

Back on subject here. John and Sprite have become an inseperable duo lately, although I think it's kind of one-sided. Sprite wants all Daddy, all the time.

Where I used to be the negatively charged ion to her positive electron zeroing in on my leg, John has now developed a force field far greater than I could achieve and his rising star status has soared.

She has become a little clingy though. Just a few mornings ago, she woke up on the wrong side of the crib and wanted only Daddy. John went to free her from her bed and change her, the entire time with her moaning and whining and being generally sucky. When he placed her on the floor so she could make the walk on her perfectly capable toddler legs to the kitchen, she fretted and raised her arms. "Up!" she whined, her eyes brimming in warning of the tirade to come lest he not follow her commands.

John, smarter than I give him credit for, promptly picked her up and brought her to the kitchen where he deposited her on the floor again so he could make her breakfast.

"Ehhhhhhh", she moaned, raising her arms again. "Up!"

"Honey, I have to get your food ready." John turned from her again, his excuse more than valid.

"Up!" she demanded, louder. John chose to ignore her and proceeded to open cabinets and the fridge in order to put something in her belly.

I heard all of this while I was getting dressed for work (Total tangent here: It seems like every morning I wake up, I look at the alarm and dare myself to spend one more minute in bed than the day before, ignoring the fact that the day is beginning with or without me. This is making me late and I go to bed that night telling myself I will not let this happen again, and then the next morning, the devil on my shoulder is at it again. All right, tangent over.) and, instead of asking if he needed help, that's a no brainer, I asked him if he got the coffee started already. (Yeah, I can be mean. And selfish. But, come on, COFFEE!)

I came out of our room in time to see John standing at the counter, Sprite sitting on the counter in front of him with her hands clamped on his arms, a bowl consisting of pieces of pancake and banana slices sitting beside her, and John picking the pieces up one by one and feeding them to his sullen looking daughter, whose only way of conveying signs of life was to open her mouth to accept the next piece of food. (There should have been some sort of punctuation in there, but you get it, right?)

Her perfectly capable toddler arms looked to be in working order, but, strangely, were not moving. I zipped around the kitchen, making my lunch and getting her things together (and my COFFEE!) and kept looking back at my VERY patient husband and Sprite's VERY patient servant father who dutifully fed his daughter by hand until I called an end to it and made her use her perfectly capable toddler brain to find her way out to the car so we could leave for school.

John followed us out and lifted Sprite into her car seat, the entire time promising what a great day she would have at daycare, as I started the car and looked back at the two of them in their own little world.

It clicked with me right then. He enjoys this. He likes the fact that she's demanding him all the time. I gave him the perfect chance to ditch us at the garage door, but he totally followed us out, soaking up as much of her attention as he could get before I had a chance to put the car into reverse.

I could consider if he's trying to regain some credit from when I was Sprite's favorite person and Daddy was forever being dismissed.

So, the tides have turned. And just in time for John's birthday too.

Happy birthday, honey. Money's tight right now, so I gave you something money could never buy. Your daughter's idolatry.

I got me a little something too. I got me a break.

And don't even think about re-gifting on my birthday, I want a new purse.