Instant Karma

So in the little parental game of Survivor that has become our lives, the alliances have been pretty clear for a while now. For months, Leah has been a mommy’s girl and Riley has been a daddy’s girl. If we’re walking somewhere, Leah wants to hold mommy’s hand and Riley wants to hold my hand. If we’re going for a drive, Leah wants mommy to put her in the car seat, and Riley wants me to put her in the car seat. If they want a book read to them, Leah will hand the book to mommy, and Riley will hand the book to daddy.

Now for me personally, this used to be a pretty sweet deal. Riley has generally been the more laid-back, more independent, more happy-go-lucky girl, while Leah has been the stubborn one, the attention hog, and the one most likely to melt down if she didn’t get her way. I’d play Legos or something with Riley and she’d be happy for, like, an hour, and meanwhile Leah would be forcing Kathy to read the same book ten times in a row, and if Kathy tried to change the activity or, God forbid, try to play with Riley for a little while, Leah would let Kathy know in her own special, shrieky way that this was not acceptable parental behavior.

Yep, the daddy/Riley team rocked. I felt bad for Kathy, yes, but – well, ya know – better her than me, right?

Then at some point, I got cocky. I let stupid thoughts enter my mind – thoughts like “Riley is such a good kid because of MY amazing father-skillz”, and “Hey, this parenting thing ain’t so hard”.

So stupid. So very, very stupid.

Yes, somewhere around Christmas time, the karma gods decided that they’d had just about enough of a certain someone’s arrogant thoughts and that it was time for that certain someone's shoe to drop. And drop it did, with a resounding thud. On or about December 23, my little independent, happy-go-lucky daughter Riley suddenly decided that she didn’t want me out of her sight. On or about December 24, she decided that I had to be within a two-foot radius of her at all times. And on or about December 25, she decided that I pretty much had to be either carrying her, holding her hand, or acting as her personal seat cushion at all times, or else she would scream most unpleasantly until I was back in my appointed place.

And naturally, on December 26, we got on a plane for a 5-day vacation in Cancun with my parents, sister, and brother-in-law. This led to the following unhappy scenarios for daddy:

• Kathy pushing Leah and Riley in their double stroller through customs at the Mexico City airport, with me awkwardly shuffling next to the stroller so I could hold Riley’s hand.
• Me taking a constipated Riley back and forth to the bathroom four times to get her diaper changed during one meal because she wouldn’t allow mommy or anyone else to change her diaper.
• Riley crying and heart-wrenchingly screaming “daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy [inhale] daddydaddydaddy” for about 15 minutes every night when we put her to bed.
  

Meanwhile, Leah turned overnight into some kinda ultra-giggly-charm-o-saur 24/7. Okay, I get it, karma gods. I'm sorry! Sheesh.

Sounds bad, I know, but the trip actually turned out pretty great despite sporadic moments of exasperation and exhaustion. Leah pretty much had the time of her life, and I guess Riley did too, when she wasn’t screaming in desperation, that is. They loved swimming in the pool, hanging out on the beach and pouring sand from bucket to bucket, and just hanging out on the hotel balcony:



And then there was the resort’s awesome little “Kids Club”. Ah yes, the Kids Club, home of the gi-normous trampoline. Because if there’s anything my daughters like, it’s running, jumping, and falling down over and over again: