Dear Bad Mommies,
I have loved working with you. I have loved creating memories, sharing in your lives, and getting to know you and your spawn.
But, I have come to the realisation that with being a mother, and having your own blog to be loyal to, not to mention work and friends - there is just no time for a group blog any more. So it's time to say good bye...!
I have decided to go solo with The Bad Mommy blog idea. Come find me here, on A Bad Mommy's Blog. If I write anything that inspires you to respond on your own blog, dont hesitate to link back to me. I'll still be lurking and commenting on all your blogs too, so I'll still be around!
Anyway, thanks for the laughs, the tears and all the support, you guys have helped me out through more than you'll ever realise. And I appreciate it more than I can say...
Much love,
Exmi.
xx
PS: please update your blog roll to - http://www.abadmommyblog.wordpress.com
Monday, September 22, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Restless Moments
Since I haven't posted here in like - oh - I don't know - AGES!!! And have no idea what's going on, I thought I'd at least confess some recent bad mommy moments. That's right ladies - not just one - many.
1. Scolding my 2 year old daughter for eating dog food and then realizing she was - hungry.
2. Feeling completely exhausted and in need of sleep. Then feeling a sudden burst of energy once SHE falls asleep.
3. Taking full advantage of the fact that my daughter likes to get things for me now - like the remote control.
4. Scolding my daughter for eating dog food. Then finally giving up after doing it over and over and over again thinking "at least she's eating SOMEthing! (she went through a stage where she wasn't eating much - probably cuz she was eating dog food!)... and it's healthy!"
5. Forgetting to "brush" her tiny little teeth. How do you do it anyway?? It's impossible!
Thanks for listening and thanks for keeping me around!
1. Scolding my 2 year old daughter for eating dog food and then realizing she was - hungry.
2. Feeling completely exhausted and in need of sleep. Then feeling a sudden burst of energy once SHE falls asleep.
3. Taking full advantage of the fact that my daughter likes to get things for me now - like the remote control.
4. Scolding my daughter for eating dog food. Then finally giving up after doing it over and over and over again thinking "at least she's eating SOMEthing! (she went through a stage where she wasn't eating much - probably cuz she was eating dog food!)... and it's healthy!"
5. Forgetting to "brush" her tiny little teeth. How do you do it anyway?? It's impossible!
Thanks for listening and thanks for keeping me around!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
New Bad Mommy Homework
I was on PostSecret this morning. And saw this postcard.It inspired this week's homework task.
So, write a blog post where you respond to this picture.
Tell us how becoming a mother has changed you. What it means to you. What is your relationship like with your child(ren)?
What would your life be like if you'd never become a mother?
More inspiration:
"Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories." ~John Wilmot
"Simply having children does not make mothers". ~John A. Shedd
"Smack your child every day. If you don't know why - he does". ~Joey Adams
"Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected." ~Red Buttons
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Bad Mommy?
So Neen told us all to write a post about a bad mommy moment we had recently. And as much as I tried to think of one, I really couldn't come up with anything concrete.
So I decided to tell you why I think I haven't been a bad mommy recently.
Well, let me tell you I have the happiest baby I have ever seen. He laughs and smiles all the time. He's happy to see me, happy to play on the floor with a pile of newspapers. Happy to eat dry Pro-vitas when mommy doesn't feel like making him a proper snack. Happy to lie on the tiles by the washing machine (hmmm....I'm actually starting to see some bad mommy stuff here after all!) and drink his bottle. Happy to pat the dog through the bars of the gate. Happy to play with car keys and rub biscuit crumbs into my new rug.
My child sleeps through the night. Apparently, if there's some instability or upset in the child's life, it shows in their sleeping patterns. My child sleeps from 6:30 pm to 6:30 am. Solid. Never wakes up, never cries. People tell me I'm lucky that my child sleeps through the night. I say that's bullshit. I worked hard to get it that way. I have a strict bedtime routine. As I go through the routine he starts yawning and rubbing his eyes. He knows it's sleep time, and he sleeps.
He's reaching all his milestones timeously. He's sitting by himself, crawling, and is even starting to stand. He walks in a walking ring, and if held. He's never sick, and even though he's teething something chronic (he's grown 8 teeth in the last month or so) he never complains. He eats everything I give him, and really isn't fussy. He even eats vegetables - fresh tomato and green pepper are his favourite.
He knows how shit works. He's figured out how to open tupperwares, how all his toys work, how the tv remote works, and he knows the difference between a fake set of keys and my real keys. He only plays with the real thing. And the dummy cell phone I bought him is no good either. He wants the real thing.
So what am I trying to say here? That I'm proud of myself. I'm doing this mothering thing better than I thought I could. My child is developing well, has an awesome little personality on him, and has inherited his mothers' strong temperment.
Perhaps I'm not such the bad mommy after all..
So I decided to tell you why I think I haven't been a bad mommy recently.
Well, let me tell you I have the happiest baby I have ever seen. He laughs and smiles all the time. He's happy to see me, happy to play on the floor with a pile of newspapers. Happy to eat dry Pro-vitas when mommy doesn't feel like making him a proper snack. Happy to lie on the tiles by the washing machine (hmmm....I'm actually starting to see some bad mommy stuff here after all!) and drink his bottle. Happy to pat the dog through the bars of the gate. Happy to play with car keys and rub biscuit crumbs into my new rug.
My child sleeps through the night. Apparently, if there's some instability or upset in the child's life, it shows in their sleeping patterns. My child sleeps from 6:30 pm to 6:30 am. Solid. Never wakes up, never cries. People tell me I'm lucky that my child sleeps through the night. I say that's bullshit. I worked hard to get it that way. I have a strict bedtime routine. As I go through the routine he starts yawning and rubbing his eyes. He knows it's sleep time, and he sleeps.
He's reaching all his milestones timeously. He's sitting by himself, crawling, and is even starting to stand. He walks in a walking ring, and if held. He's never sick, and even though he's teething something chronic (he's grown 8 teeth in the last month or so) he never complains. He eats everything I give him, and really isn't fussy. He even eats vegetables - fresh tomato and green pepper are his favourite.
He knows how shit works. He's figured out how to open tupperwares, how all his toys work, how the tv remote works, and he knows the difference between a fake set of keys and my real keys. He only plays with the real thing. And the dummy cell phone I bought him is no good either. He wants the real thing.
So what am I trying to say here? That I'm proud of myself. I'm doing this mothering thing better than I thought I could. My child is developing well, has an awesome little personality on him, and has inherited his mothers' strong temperment.
Perhaps I'm not such the bad mommy after all..
Friday, August 15, 2008
Bad Mommies Are Out There
I know its been forever since I did a post. Hell, some of the new mommies probably don't even know who I am. Hi! I'm Sheena. My daughters name was Kiera, she was beautiful and gorgeous and passed away in 2004. Every now and again I still feel a maternal urge to do some writing, and Exmi won't let me quit being a member of this blog, so I make do when I can.
Today though, I want to do something different. Britt is my best friend. Her and I were knocked up within a month of each other. Our daughters used to have play time while in utero, Britt and I would stick our tummies together like dorks and giggle. We had so many planned lunches, girl days, arranged marriages for our girl kids.
Needless to say, it didn't pan out that way, but we were fortunate to not let the loss of Kiera get in the way of our friendship, or affect my ability to simply adore her (now two) children, who I also happen to be Godmother to.
This is a story written by Britt, who is barely literate half of the time so she must have spent hours doing this correcting her bad spelling, but it touched my soul and encompassed everything about her family in a few short paragraphs. I'm so happy for her, and for all of you, who have your children on a daily basis and follow the motions of being a family. Without further ado, I give you 'Saturday Mornings':
I wake up to the light filtering though my dark red curtains, note to self: get darker curtains. Its 06:30 and its Saturday - awesome I got to sleep a whole hour later than usual. I creep out of bed so as not to wake the sleeping giant of a man I call hubby, but most importantly not to wake the small now pajama less little girl who somehow crawled into my bed last night with out waking me - no wonder my whole left side is numb - no pajamas mean one thing - wet bed, so the coffee I was aiming at will have to wait I will sort out the bedding first.
Tiptoeing into the kid's room shared by both Nik and Cully-boy, I peep over the cot ever so slightly and find my son still asleep, I can't help the smile that pops onto my face. Ok B, I think to myself, go get the bedding, throw in the washing machine and get that cup of coffee. Making it to the kitchen while very skillfully maneuvering over the toys, I realize I forgot the pillow case, not wanting to have wasted anytime I turn on my heel to fetch the pillow case, upon turning round I kick a ball which goes flying, hitting the wall and then smashing the hollow black plastic bike over, making a deep hollow drum sound that the drummer of the greatest rock band in the world would be proud of - I hate that bike. I am frozen, I listen - the house remains quiet and relief washes over me again I start back to the bedroom this time watching my every step.
On entering the bedroom I notice movement in Cully-boys cot. This time with the stealth of a panther I crouch and peep over the side of the cot - his eyes are wide, darting around looking for me, he sees me, jumps up and smiles, he is cute so I smile back. Moving the wet bedding to my left arm I collect my ever growing baby and move towards the kitchen, not forgetting the pillow case. But he moans and pushes me towards my bedroom, this means only one thing - he wants dad.
Now there are two things I can do: option one: I could take him to dad where by I will have the chance to dash like a mad woman to the kitchen in aid of my coffee, leaving Dad to deal with Cully-boy and if I calculate correctly I could be sipping coffee in 5 minuets or option two I could be the best wife ever and let the hubby sleep in, coffee will take longer than 5 minuets, the need for coffee over rides my need to be nice. I walk into the room with Cully-boy now jumping up and down in my arm, he is big now so I cant really hold on to him very well so just as we get to the side of the bed he jumps out my arm and strait onto Dad's tummy - so much for a peaceful wake up. The hubby; always a smile on his face sits up and plays with Cully-boy and in-between bounces request a glass of juice as he has his hands full and he is so extremely thirsty. So off to the kitchen I go, I dump the wet bedclothes in the washing machine and turn it on, pour some juice and fill the kettle.
I turn to head back to the room, but there is no need my husband walks in with Cully-boy extended a full arms length from him and in-between heaves is able to tell me that my son has done a pooh, nappy is faulty, it stinks and he thinks he does not feel so well anymore. I must say that this tiny fault in my husband amuses me greatly. Has he ever smelt himself after game of rugby?? In a full roar of laughter I eventually take Cully-boy, as the hubby dashes to the bathroom. Letting my son know what a good boy I think he is for encouraging his father to go for a morning sprint I change his nappy, now this has become a skill as Cully-boy finds it very funny to see how fast he can flip himself over after I have unfastened the nappy and scramble around the bed, so with one hand firmly on his chest the other hand gets busy at pealing, wiping, unfolding and folding - told you it's a skill. My husband peeps his head around the corner and asks if it safe to enter, I giggle some more at his flaw and hand Cully-boy over to him. I must say when there is no brown threatening pooh, my husband holds his son close and they are the best of mates.
They disappear into the lounge and play. I peep over at Nikita who is now awake, but clearly not impressed to be woken up, I mother her telling her how wonderful it is to see her princess face, and she eventually manages a smile. I go back to the kitchen with the thoughts of hot coffee filling my mind when I find that I filled the kettle but did not switch it on – damn it. As soon as Dad and son see me in the kitchen requests for food come pouring in I resist the urge to ignore them but I find myself making more juice and some breakfast. The kettle has boiled but I decide to take the now mountain of food to my two boys, the water will still be hot when I get back. Once they've been set, there is silence in the dining room as they both quietly munching away.
I head back to the kitchen but, am stopped by Nikita who "has a HUGE problem". She "just can't decide what to wear". So I follow her to her bedroom and pull out her favorite dress, no she is not in the mood for a dress, ok so I find her new Barbie outfit and for the first time ever in her four years she does not feel like Barbie this particular Saturday. Reaching for a pair of jeans and a cute top, apparently these jeans hurt her - they did not hurt her the other day but apparently she just knows they will hurt her today if she wears them. Eventually after what seems like hours she decides to wear a stained pair of yellow shorts and a teeny tiny pink shirt that is clearly far to small for her, satisfied with her outrageous choice in clothing we both head for the kitchen, I don't even bother looking to see if the water in the kettle is still hot - I know its not, so again I turn on the kettle and make Nikita her multi colored cereal, she is not impressed - the milk is cold.
I warm the milk up and now once again happy, she bounces off to join the boys in the lounge my first instinct is to tell her to stop bouncing and walk slowly, but I am too late there is multi colored cereal and milk all over the floor. I can hear the kettle switch off, but Nikita is now just dying of hunger so I start the cereal ritual all over again this time not forgetting to warm the milk up, she walks off to the lounge this time very slowly to enjoy her tasty breakfast. I am just in time to clean the mess as Cully-boy has noticed the very interesting white puddle with multi colored bits, in no time at all he is down on all fours and with open mouth and wagging tong he tries desperately to lap up all he can see. I grab him and give him a bowl of dry cereal, now this may seem mean, but he is very happy to eat it like this and I know it will land up on the floor eventually so there is less labor as I will only need to sweep.
This time I am clever I switch on the kettle, for the third time I have done so while I dash to clean up the mess and then stand by the kettle while hearing the faint cries from the desperate family for more juice, but I refuse to move. Do you know how long a kettle takes to boil? Yes - forever. The washing machine and the kettle switch off at the same time and once again I am sitting with two options: option one: make coffee, enjoy - hang out washing later or option two: hang out washing and come back and boil kettle again.
I come to the decision that South Africa is in an energy crisis and all the people governing this country would appreciate me saving electricity and not boiling the kettle four times for one cup of coffee, so finally I make my steamy awesome cup of coffee and retreat to the lounge while sipping it all the way there. As I sit down, I receive a wink from the husband, a multi colored smile from Nikita and a cuddle from Cully-boy. And suddenly I realize - who needs coffee at 06:30 in the morning anyway.
Today though, I want to do something different. Britt is my best friend. Her and I were knocked up within a month of each other. Our daughters used to have play time while in utero, Britt and I would stick our tummies together like dorks and giggle. We had so many planned lunches, girl days, arranged marriages for our girl kids.
Needless to say, it didn't pan out that way, but we were fortunate to not let the loss of Kiera get in the way of our friendship, or affect my ability to simply adore her (now two) children, who I also happen to be Godmother to.
This is a story written by Britt, who is barely literate half of the time so she must have spent hours doing this correcting her bad spelling, but it touched my soul and encompassed everything about her family in a few short paragraphs. I'm so happy for her, and for all of you, who have your children on a daily basis and follow the motions of being a family. Without further ado, I give you 'Saturday Mornings':
I wake up to the light filtering though my dark red curtains, note to self: get darker curtains. Its 06:30 and its Saturday - awesome I got to sleep a whole hour later than usual. I creep out of bed so as not to wake the sleeping giant of a man I call hubby, but most importantly not to wake the small now pajama less little girl who somehow crawled into my bed last night with out waking me - no wonder my whole left side is numb - no pajamas mean one thing - wet bed, so the coffee I was aiming at will have to wait I will sort out the bedding first.
Tiptoeing into the kid's room shared by both Nik and Cully-boy, I peep over the cot ever so slightly and find my son still asleep, I can't help the smile that pops onto my face. Ok B, I think to myself, go get the bedding, throw in the washing machine and get that cup of coffee. Making it to the kitchen while very skillfully maneuvering over the toys, I realize I forgot the pillow case, not wanting to have wasted anytime I turn on my heel to fetch the pillow case, upon turning round I kick a ball which goes flying, hitting the wall and then smashing the hollow black plastic bike over, making a deep hollow drum sound that the drummer of the greatest rock band in the world would be proud of - I hate that bike. I am frozen, I listen - the house remains quiet and relief washes over me again I start back to the bedroom this time watching my every step.
On entering the bedroom I notice movement in Cully-boys cot. This time with the stealth of a panther I crouch and peep over the side of the cot - his eyes are wide, darting around looking for me, he sees me, jumps up and smiles, he is cute so I smile back. Moving the wet bedding to my left arm I collect my ever growing baby and move towards the kitchen, not forgetting the pillow case. But he moans and pushes me towards my bedroom, this means only one thing - he wants dad.
Now there are two things I can do: option one: I could take him to dad where by I will have the chance to dash like a mad woman to the kitchen in aid of my coffee, leaving Dad to deal with Cully-boy and if I calculate correctly I could be sipping coffee in 5 minuets or option two I could be the best wife ever and let the hubby sleep in, coffee will take longer than 5 minuets, the need for coffee over rides my need to be nice. I walk into the room with Cully-boy now jumping up and down in my arm, he is big now so I cant really hold on to him very well so just as we get to the side of the bed he jumps out my arm and strait onto Dad's tummy - so much for a peaceful wake up. The hubby; always a smile on his face sits up and plays with Cully-boy and in-between bounces request a glass of juice as he has his hands full and he is so extremely thirsty. So off to the kitchen I go, I dump the wet bedclothes in the washing machine and turn it on, pour some juice and fill the kettle.
I turn to head back to the room, but there is no need my husband walks in with Cully-boy extended a full arms length from him and in-between heaves is able to tell me that my son has done a pooh, nappy is faulty, it stinks and he thinks he does not feel so well anymore. I must say that this tiny fault in my husband amuses me greatly. Has he ever smelt himself after game of rugby?? In a full roar of laughter I eventually take Cully-boy, as the hubby dashes to the bathroom. Letting my son know what a good boy I think he is for encouraging his father to go for a morning sprint I change his nappy, now this has become a skill as Cully-boy finds it very funny to see how fast he can flip himself over after I have unfastened the nappy and scramble around the bed, so with one hand firmly on his chest the other hand gets busy at pealing, wiping, unfolding and folding - told you it's a skill. My husband peeps his head around the corner and asks if it safe to enter, I giggle some more at his flaw and hand Cully-boy over to him. I must say when there is no brown threatening pooh, my husband holds his son close and they are the best of mates.
They disappear into the lounge and play. I peep over at Nikita who is now awake, but clearly not impressed to be woken up, I mother her telling her how wonderful it is to see her princess face, and she eventually manages a smile. I go back to the kitchen with the thoughts of hot coffee filling my mind when I find that I filled the kettle but did not switch it on – damn it. As soon as Dad and son see me in the kitchen requests for food come pouring in I resist the urge to ignore them but I find myself making more juice and some breakfast. The kettle has boiled but I decide to take the now mountain of food to my two boys, the water will still be hot when I get back. Once they've been set, there is silence in the dining room as they both quietly munching away.
I head back to the kitchen but, am stopped by Nikita who "has a HUGE problem". She "just can't decide what to wear". So I follow her to her bedroom and pull out her favorite dress, no she is not in the mood for a dress, ok so I find her new Barbie outfit and for the first time ever in her four years she does not feel like Barbie this particular Saturday. Reaching for a pair of jeans and a cute top, apparently these jeans hurt her - they did not hurt her the other day but apparently she just knows they will hurt her today if she wears them. Eventually after what seems like hours she decides to wear a stained pair of yellow shorts and a teeny tiny pink shirt that is clearly far to small for her, satisfied with her outrageous choice in clothing we both head for the kitchen, I don't even bother looking to see if the water in the kettle is still hot - I know its not, so again I turn on the kettle and make Nikita her multi colored cereal, she is not impressed - the milk is cold.
I warm the milk up and now once again happy, she bounces off to join the boys in the lounge my first instinct is to tell her to stop bouncing and walk slowly, but I am too late there is multi colored cereal and milk all over the floor. I can hear the kettle switch off, but Nikita is now just dying of hunger so I start the cereal ritual all over again this time not forgetting to warm the milk up, she walks off to the lounge this time very slowly to enjoy her tasty breakfast. I am just in time to clean the mess as Cully-boy has noticed the very interesting white puddle with multi colored bits, in no time at all he is down on all fours and with open mouth and wagging tong he tries desperately to lap up all he can see. I grab him and give him a bowl of dry cereal, now this may seem mean, but he is very happy to eat it like this and I know it will land up on the floor eventually so there is less labor as I will only need to sweep.
This time I am clever I switch on the kettle, for the third time I have done so while I dash to clean up the mess and then stand by the kettle while hearing the faint cries from the desperate family for more juice, but I refuse to move. Do you know how long a kettle takes to boil? Yes - forever. The washing machine and the kettle switch off at the same time and once again I am sitting with two options: option one: make coffee, enjoy - hang out washing later or option two: hang out washing and come back and boil kettle again.
I come to the decision that South Africa is in an energy crisis and all the people governing this country would appreciate me saving electricity and not boiling the kettle four times for one cup of coffee, so finally I make my steamy awesome cup of coffee and retreat to the lounge while sipping it all the way there. As I sit down, I receive a wink from the husband, a multi colored smile from Nikita and a cuddle from Cully-boy. And suddenly I realize - who needs coffee at 06:30 in the morning anyway.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Bad Mommy Moment
Hannah has recently taken up Belly Dancing with me. We go to the classes together and we have a ball. She loves the shimmies and shakes and she's super-flexible - able to do far more with her tiny limbs than I ever could. All in all, it's a great mom-daughter bonding time.
Two weeks ago on belly dancing night, it was a particularly cold evening to be going out. Hannah was really keen to go, so I couldn't say no. We enjoyed the lesson, but when she came home, she began coughing. I didn't think too much of it and sent her to bed.
The next morning, she coughed through breakfast. Having forgotten about her coughing spell the previous evening (bad mommy moment number 1), and knowing that she can be a bit of a drama queen, I told her to give it a rest and eat her breakfast. She got ready for school, all the while coughing and complaining that she was feeling sick. I rolled my eyes and put it down to tiredness from the fun the night before. Later that morning, I waved her a cheery goodbye at her classroom door.
The phone call later that day went something like this:
"Hello, Mrs Dunlop?"
"Yes?"
"It's Mrs X from XX Primary. Hannah's here in my office and she's having an asthma attack and she has a temperature. Could you come and fetch her?"
Um, why yes, I'll fetch her, and while I'm about it, I think I'll knock my head against the closest brick wall, all the while chanting: "Bad Mommy. Bad Mommy."
Your homework for this week is: Write a Bad Mommy Moment post from the past 2 weeks. Don't be shy: you know you've had one...
Two weeks ago on belly dancing night, it was a particularly cold evening to be going out. Hannah was really keen to go, so I couldn't say no. We enjoyed the lesson, but when she came home, she began coughing. I didn't think too much of it and sent her to bed.
The next morning, she coughed through breakfast. Having forgotten about her coughing spell the previous evening (bad mommy moment number 1), and knowing that she can be a bit of a drama queen, I told her to give it a rest and eat her breakfast. She got ready for school, all the while coughing and complaining that she was feeling sick. I rolled my eyes and put it down to tiredness from the fun the night before. Later that morning, I waved her a cheery goodbye at her classroom door.
The phone call later that day went something like this:
"Hello, Mrs Dunlop?"
"Yes?"
"It's Mrs X from XX Primary. Hannah's here in my office and she's having an asthma attack and she has a temperature. Could you come and fetch her?"
Um, why yes, I'll fetch her, and while I'm about it, I think I'll knock my head against the closest brick wall, all the while chanting: "Bad Mommy. Bad Mommy."
Your homework for this week is: Write a Bad Mommy Moment post from the past 2 weeks. Don't be shy: you know you've had one...
Thursday, August 7, 2008
pet peeves
i have pets... 6 gold fishies... and Billy the cat... i've also had 3 dogs in the last 10 years... and Billy has outlived them all... what i find very interesting is that Jay, to this day remembers each and every one of the dogs... just yesterday he said, I miss Goggles (our boxer who died)... and Buksie... and Rex... the last dog "went away" almost three years ago, when Jay was 6, and he still remembers them! so I guess being a pet person also makes a difference, if you love dogs, you will love dogs from the first time you see one until your dying day... and if you don't like dogs, well let's just say then you're a cat person :)
ok back to my story... if Jay ever found out what happened to Buksie he will probably never talk to me again...
the divorce of course made everything go pear shaped... don't hate me OK?... here's what happened...
we had the cutest little dog called Buksie... and poor Buksie was just one word~ T R O U B L E... he got out of the yard every chance he got... he barked, he howled... he chewed, he peed and he pooped... so when we moved after the divorce, Buksie came with... and the complex we moved into generously allowed us to keep him... until the streams of complains started rolling in...
during the day Buksie would howl like a dog possessed, missing us ... so sad i know... and of course this was a huge irritation for everybody who lived close by... so after loads of complaints I was told that Buksie had to find a new home... or else... so I looked for a new owner, I really did... nobody could take him, and we just couldn't keep him any more... so I had him put to sleep.
I know... I am a terrible person... to this day i feel guilty... to make this even worse... i had to do this in secret and tell the kids that Buksie ran away... how cruel...
so i would love to have another dog... but frankly i'm in no position to care for one... we're never home... and i just can't bear thinking of doing what i've done ever again...
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Discipline
Discipline. It’s that quintessential life principle that gets drummed into us from day bloody one.
I need you to know this before I continue, I hate rules. I loathe being told “no, you can’t do that”. So, when it comes to discipline, I battle. But, as life has grown me up and made me think about things over and over again, I’ve developed and stick to my own set of rules.
For that, I blame my parents. They weren’t ever particular sticklers for the conventional “be a good girl, keep your mouth shut, do as you’re told” rulings. In fact, their lives weren’t even remotely good examples of “keeping their mouths shut”. For that, I am eternally thankful, even when it makes me unpopular. I don’t have the ability to keep my mouth shut when something irks me, annoys me or is shown to me as an injustice. Above all of that, I can’t stand people who beat around the bush. Either be direct, stick your neck out, say what you mean to say, and we’ll deal with it. People who try to pussy-foot around an issue, generally don’t get my respect or my abiding.
This is one good reason why SheBee and I can live together. Neither of us are pussy-footers. Some people call us fullashit, but we call a spade, a spade.
When I was growing up, my folks used their voices. Alot. I cannot think of a time when they weren’t talking. Heh. My mom also had a very unique way of telling us when we were in the shit.
If I’d been a bit of a naughty shit the day or night before…Mom would simply make me a beetroot sandwich for school lunch. Now, beetroot sandwiches are actually great freshly made. But, leave them in your lunchbox for the four hours between leaving home and lunch break and, well, by the time you whip them out to eat them… all you have is a pink, soggy mess. That was generally enough to let me know I’d been a bit of a shit. Trust me, having your school friends look at you askew because you’ve got soggy pink bread for lunch, makes you feel distinctly UNcool and it works pretty darn well.
I digress…
When it comes to discipline, when it comes to rules, when it comes to the “no, you can’t” and “yes, you can” debate for Cam…I’m not all that conventional.
I’m not a smacker. I have a simple rule on this, if she smacks someone, I’ll smack her hand. Undoubtedly, I’ll kiss it better and give her a love afterwards but, I will never smack my child in anger. I can’t do it. It’s just not me. And that’s not me being weak, that’s me knowing that that’s how I want to raise my child.
When it comes to enforcing a rule though. I’m a shouter.
Now, in our house, our rules are not conventional. The primary rule in our house is bedtime. And I will shout about it, if I have to. Generally though, I win before I have to shout. I’m a negotiator, true, and I believe that gentle reminders for about half an hour before bedtime make things easier.. “after this Gummi Bears, it’s bedtime, okay?” generally garner a very cute “okay” response and there’s not much hassle beyond there. Face it, No kid likes to be told it’s time to go to bed, fuck, I hated being told it. But, it has to happen. And it does. Most of the time.
Oi, nobody’s perfect and anyone who says they are is simply another one of those things I cannot stand - a liar. =)
So, in our house and our lives, we don’t have the “eat at the table; children should be seen and not heard; no, you can’t wear a ballgown to school; dessert is only for after dinner” rules. We have good ones. Cameron is a stickler for please and thank you and is learning, very well, how to share. We don’t care about drawing on the walls, as long as it’s crayon. We don’t care about paint, as long as it’s on the sheet and not on the carpet and yes, we can throw stuff in a bowl and make a big mess and pretend to bake. Yes, on the floor. No, I don’t care if it makes a mess.
Someone pretty random in my life that I went to school with, Wendy, taught me a critical life lesson about child-raising many, many years ago. She, in passing, whilst we were sitting at a soccer game (don’t ask questions just accept, people…) said to me: “having three kids is hard. But I just don’t worry about anything that a shower or a good cloth can fix”.
I can never thank her enough for saying that. I am anal about cleaning the house. But, when it comes to Cam’s mess, I let her have her mess.
And, funnily enough, it’s Cam who says “Mommy, I want to clean” or “Mommy, I want to wash the dishes”. She knows that mess means cleaning up afterwards. Most of the time. Again, Nobody’s perfect, and anyone who says they are is, you guessed it, a liar.
So, yeah, Rules. Mine aren’t normal. But, yes, I’m a shouter. A big one. I am not scared to raise my voice to make my point when trying to cajole a three year old away from a tantrum.
So, if you ever see a short lady walking down the street holding the hand of a little girl wearing wellington boots and a fairy princess dress whilst they sing and eat ice cream BEFORE dinner, that’s us.
Living our lives our way, thanks very much.
To Pet or not to Pet . . .
I honestly don't think a pet gives children any sense of responsibility at all. Unless you insist they feed said pet, and then said pet would die because said child would not feed said pet. Then said child would cry and said parent could say "Well you obviously aren't responsible for a pet yet, are you?". Said parent would be a bit of an ass though, wouldn't they?
I got Ciara a cat when she was two. Her name is Lulu, and her lift doesn't even reach the first floor, poor thing. Lulu the cat is fed by me. Ciara loves 'her' cat a lot though. But that is where it ends.
We now have one cat and three dogs, all of them are Ciara's (if you ask her). But they are all fed, cleaned and housed by me (and my mom.)
Pets can be really good for kids. Ciara and Cleopatra (the black lab) have so much fun together. "Find Ciara" is one of our favorite games, where Ciara hides and Cleo searches for her everywhere. Lots of fun.
But pets have a downside too. They die. Before we do. When we lost Priscilla (the female* goldfish) and then later Elvis (the male* goldfish) there were many tears and there is nothing I, as a parent, could do but just let her cry. The heartbreak (for both of us) is agonising.
A little side bar story. I had a cat named Jessie from when I was about 10. When she was 11, and I was 21 Jessie was old and she died. This was heartbreaking, but understandable (I was 21 afterall). Jessie was soon replaced by Poe the mini-cat. I loved Poe very much, and she went missing after only about 6 months, and we later discovered she had been hit by a car. I was devastated. I vowed never to get another pet - EVER.
I only got my next pet when I was 27 years old (the aformentioned Lulu), and I refused to love this cat until about 2 years ago. The death of Poe had affected me that badly.
Since Ciara is a mini-me, I worry that she will be as deeply affected by the death of a pet** as I was, and still am.
* The sex of the goldfish was just decided as we wanted to name them Priscilla and Elvis. I have no idea how one determines the sex of a goldfish.
** Goldfish don't count as 'real' pets. Because they are goldfish.
I got Ciara a cat when she was two. Her name is Lulu, and her lift doesn't even reach the first floor, poor thing. Lulu the cat is fed by me. Ciara loves 'her' cat a lot though. But that is where it ends.
We now have one cat and three dogs, all of them are Ciara's (if you ask her). But they are all fed, cleaned and housed by me (and my mom.)
Pets can be really good for kids. Ciara and Cleopatra (the black lab) have so much fun together. "Find Ciara" is one of our favorite games, where Ciara hides and Cleo searches for her everywhere. Lots of fun.
But pets have a downside too. They die. Before we do. When we lost Priscilla (the female* goldfish) and then later Elvis (the male* goldfish) there were many tears and there is nothing I, as a parent, could do but just let her cry. The heartbreak (for both of us) is agonising.
A little side bar story. I had a cat named Jessie from when I was about 10. When she was 11, and I was 21 Jessie was old and she died. This was heartbreaking, but understandable (I was 21 afterall). Jessie was soon replaced by Poe the mini-cat. I loved Poe very much, and she went missing after only about 6 months, and we later discovered she had been hit by a car. I was devastated. I vowed never to get another pet - EVER.
I only got my next pet when I was 27 years old (the aformentioned Lulu), and I refused to love this cat until about 2 years ago. The death of Poe had affected me that badly.
Since Ciara is a mini-me, I worry that she will be as deeply affected by the death of a pet** as I was, and still am.
* The sex of the goldfish was just decided as we wanted to name them Priscilla and Elvis. I have no idea how one determines the sex of a goldfish.
** Goldfish don't count as 'real' pets. Because they are goldfish.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Yeehah!!! It’s An Angel Double Feature On TBMB!
Part 1
What 3 things do you do, as a mother that goes against all the books?
Well, since I’m a stickler for the rules (as most of you know) like adhering to movie and PS2 game age restrictions… proper bedtimes, and obeying legal issues like not being allowed in the front seat till you’re 12, always wearing a seatbelt and sticking to the speed limit… there’s not much I do that’s not by the book.
Here are the few I could think of…
1. If he says he’s not hungry, he doesn’t have to eat.
I do not fight with Damien when he says he’s not hungry. I learnt early in his life that he is not a big eater. He’s not fussy- but he goes through phases where he doesn’t eat at all. It used to be a battle. I would serve him some food and we’d sit and he wouldn’t eat. And we’d fight about it because he HAS to eat… doesn’t he? Then I had a revelation and I stopped forcing the issue. One nightmare over with! It’s taken my family a while to get used to it though… he’s the only person I know who can go to a restaurant and not eat simply because he’s not hungry. So instead I make sure there are snacky things like sausages and two-minute noodles and lots of bread and leftovers for in case he decides he wants to eat, or like when he was little I offered him a “Nutrament” or “Ensure” milkshake instead.
2. I shut the door so I don’t have to see the mess.
His bedroom usually looks like a bomb’s hit it. When he was little, I tidied up for him- trying to get him to do it too and help out and get into some kind of habit… but to no avail. So I gave up. Every now and then I did a hectic spring clean when he was away on camp or something, but for the most part I left it. I still do. But he has to take responsibility- if he doesn’t make sure his dirty clothes are in the wash when it gets done then he doesn’t have clean clothes either.
3. He can wear what he wants…
Except for being strict on school uniform requirements- Damien can wear whatever he likes. This often means he goes around looking like a real scruff- and I will ask him occasionally if he doesn’t perhaps want to brush his hair, or wear a different shirt… and I will tell him if it’s a smart sort of occasion and a T-Shirt won’t do, but that’s it. He’s allowed to wear whatever outfit he chooses.
Part 2
What is your opinion on pets - and your children's role in the new family members’ life? AND when do you say NO and HOW do you say NO to hairy and scaly pets without destroying your son’s dreams of becoming a Nature conservationist.
I am one of the few people who do NOT believe that a child NEEDS a pet. I’m sure you’ve all heard people use the totally nonsensical argument that “he really needs to grow up with a dog of his own you know”. I think people who think like that have watched “Old Yeller” or “Lassie” too many times.
The truth is that no matter how old your kidlets are- you are the one who will end up looking after said animal.
Yes you can make it his or her responsibility- but we all know what’s going to happen. Either you’ll be cleaning up hurriedly in the morning so your other half doesn’t step in anything… or you’ll clean up after and feed the animal for the sake of peace because you’ve argued with your offspring for 4 solid days about your agreement that he or she would look after it.
So. How do you not wreck his or her dreams of becoming a game ranger or some such? Let them volunteer their time at a shelter like Wetnose or the SPCA. Organisations like this are always looking for people to help out in some way or another. And the few hours your kidlet then spends with the animals means he doesn’t get bored with the responsibility, they’re making a small difference, and you don’t have to argue with them all the time about whether Rover’s been fed and Felix’s litter-box scooped out.
What 3 things do you do, as a mother that goes against all the books?
Well, since I’m a stickler for the rules (as most of you know) like adhering to movie and PS2 game age restrictions… proper bedtimes, and obeying legal issues like not being allowed in the front seat till you’re 12, always wearing a seatbelt and sticking to the speed limit… there’s not much I do that’s not by the book.
Here are the few I could think of…
1. If he says he’s not hungry, he doesn’t have to eat.
I do not fight with Damien when he says he’s not hungry. I learnt early in his life that he is not a big eater. He’s not fussy- but he goes through phases where he doesn’t eat at all. It used to be a battle. I would serve him some food and we’d sit and he wouldn’t eat. And we’d fight about it because he HAS to eat… doesn’t he? Then I had a revelation and I stopped forcing the issue. One nightmare over with! It’s taken my family a while to get used to it though… he’s the only person I know who can go to a restaurant and not eat simply because he’s not hungry. So instead I make sure there are snacky things like sausages and two-minute noodles and lots of bread and leftovers for in case he decides he wants to eat, or like when he was little I offered him a “Nutrament” or “Ensure” milkshake instead.
2. I shut the door so I don’t have to see the mess.
His bedroom usually looks like a bomb’s hit it. When he was little, I tidied up for him- trying to get him to do it too and help out and get into some kind of habit… but to no avail. So I gave up. Every now and then I did a hectic spring clean when he was away on camp or something, but for the most part I left it. I still do. But he has to take responsibility- if he doesn’t make sure his dirty clothes are in the wash when it gets done then he doesn’t have clean clothes either.
3. He can wear what he wants…
Except for being strict on school uniform requirements- Damien can wear whatever he likes. This often means he goes around looking like a real scruff- and I will ask him occasionally if he doesn’t perhaps want to brush his hair, or wear a different shirt… and I will tell him if it’s a smart sort of occasion and a T-Shirt won’t do, but that’s it. He’s allowed to wear whatever outfit he chooses.
Part 2
What is your opinion on pets - and your children's role in the new family members’ life? AND when do you say NO and HOW do you say NO to hairy and scaly pets without destroying your son’s dreams of becoming a Nature conservationist.
I am one of the few people who do NOT believe that a child NEEDS a pet. I’m sure you’ve all heard people use the totally nonsensical argument that “he really needs to grow up with a dog of his own you know”. I think people who think like that have watched “Old Yeller” or “Lassie” too many times.
The truth is that no matter how old your kidlets are- you are the one who will end up looking after said animal.
Yes you can make it his or her responsibility- but we all know what’s going to happen. Either you’ll be cleaning up hurriedly in the morning so your other half doesn’t step in anything… or you’ll clean up after and feed the animal for the sake of peace because you’ve argued with your offspring for 4 solid days about your agreement that he or she would look after it.
So. How do you not wreck his or her dreams of becoming a game ranger or some such? Let them volunteer their time at a shelter like Wetnose or the SPCA. Organisations like this are always looking for people to help out in some way or another. And the few hours your kidlet then spends with the animals means he doesn’t get bored with the responsibility, they’re making a small difference, and you don’t have to argue with them all the time about whether Rover’s been fed and Felix’s litter-box scooped out.
The Necessity of Pets
So Yndic asked about pets - what you think about them, and the role your child must play in the new family members' life. The Kid has a puppy. The Kid is 8 months old. And yes, he has a pet. His name is Earl.
The Kid loves this damn dog. Even though I'm battling to house-train this freaking furball. Even though he chews holes in The Boyfriends underpants.
Even though he chews everything he can get his grubby little paws on. Even though I have to feed him, give him attention and foot the vet bills.
The Kid's whole face lights up when I let Earl into the house. This dog is so unbelievably gentle with The Kid. The Kid can pull his ears, put his hands in the dogs' mouth, take away his food or chew toy, and the dog just tolerates it, and waits til The Kid is done tormenting him.
The Kid follows this dog around everywhere. Loves to pat him, and lets him lick his face. I am not even allowed to touch The Kid's face, and trying to wipe it clean with a cloth incites much whining and wriggling. But he will hold still while Earl licks his face.
So what's my opinion on pets? I think they're important. They help strengthen the immune system, they teach children not to be afraid of dogs, and if a child grows up with furry pets, they're less likely to be allergic to cats or dogs.
Once The Kid is a bit older, these two will be inseparable. Partners in crime. It will lessen the impact of being an only child. And when he's old enough, he will do the feeding routines.
And for damn sure, he will be doing the shit-pickers'-waltz too!
*Please, bad mommies - dont forget to do Ydnic's homework task - there was an overlap with the 3 Bad Mommy Things as set by Jenty.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Three things that make me a Bad Mommy
Here are my three things :
1. I let Ciara sleep with me every single night. We have been living in our new house for just over two years, and she hasn't once slept in her own bed. I don't feel bad about it at all.
2. I let Ciara drink from a bottle until she was 6 years old. She enjoys lying down and drinking out of a bottle, so I let her. Her teeth are fine and I don't feel bad about it at all.
3. I sometimes (usually) give in to her pleas for material things. I buy her lots of stuff. She still seems to appreciate it. I feel a little bad about this one.
1. I let Ciara sleep with me every single night. We have been living in our new house for just over two years, and she hasn't once slept in her own bed. I don't feel bad about it at all.
2. I let Ciara drink from a bottle until she was 6 years old. She enjoys lying down and drinking out of a bottle, so I let her. Her teeth are fine and I don't feel bad about it at all.
3. I sometimes (usually) give in to her pleas for material things. I buy her lots of stuff. She still seems to appreciate it. I feel a little bad about this one.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
free fings... sweets
- I gave Kay a drag of my cigarette when he asked once, i still don't know if i should have or shouldn't have...
- I let my kids drive my car (while sitting on my lap) i do the peddles and they do the steering.
- When the boys have friends over for a sleepover I let them stay up all night... so i send back very tired and very cranky kids to their moms... i know... bad!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Three things I should feel guilty about, but don't
This is short and sweet from me this week...
1. I have never, ever considered using cloth nappies.
2. Jackson and I have crazy play just before bedtime, I know we should be quiet and all, but it's just SO MUCH MORE FUN to be loud and raucous.
3. I let Jackson have sips of wine, beer, champagne...whatever I'm drinking at the time. I always think that I am vaguely Italian while I am doing it because in Italy they give their children watered down wine with supper from a very early age.
Oh man, this is just the tip of the iceberg. I am a bad Mommy.
1. I have never, ever considered using cloth nappies.
2. Jackson and I have crazy play just before bedtime, I know we should be quiet and all, but it's just SO MUCH MORE FUN to be loud and raucous.
3. I let Jackson have sips of wine, beer, champagne...whatever I'm drinking at the time. I always think that I am vaguely Italian while I am doing it because in Italy they give their children watered down wine with supper from a very early age.
Oh man, this is just the tip of the iceberg. I am a bad Mommy.
Three Frowns For Bad Mommy
Keeping this list to three things I do that could be frowned upon was tough. Pretty much everything I do could probably be frowned upon. Fakkit, I'm doing more than 3.
1. I dont use bum cream every time I change his nappy. Actually, hardly ever. Only when he has a red bum.
2. I leave him unattended while I go outside and smoke. I leave him on the lounge floor, surrounded by toys and open plug points and cables.
3. I let my child suck the dog's pigs ear chew toy. Twice.
4. Sometimes I am too lazy to sterilise bottles, so just rinse out before using.
5. I let my child suck the floor tiles and drink bath water.
6. I sit my child in his Bumbo on the kitchen counter and leave him unattended while running his bath. He has fallen out once.
7. I left my child unattended on my bed. He fell off.
8. I left my child unattended on the changing table. He fell off.
9. I let my child eat dog biscuits.
10. I let my child gum my keys, even though they're probably the most germ-infested objects in the world.
11. If The Kid's dummy falls on the floor, I pop it in my mouth, give it a suck and hand it back to him. Apparently this should not be done.
How does that score on the badness scale?
1. I dont use bum cream every time I change his nappy. Actually, hardly ever. Only when he has a red bum.
2. I leave him unattended while I go outside and smoke. I leave him on the lounge floor, surrounded by toys and open plug points and cables.
3. I let my child suck the dog's pigs ear chew toy. Twice.
4. Sometimes I am too lazy to sterilise bottles, so just rinse out before using.
5. I let my child suck the floor tiles and drink bath water.
6. I sit my child in his Bumbo on the kitchen counter and leave him unattended while running his bath. He has fallen out once.
7. I left my child unattended on my bed. He fell off.
8. I left my child unattended on the changing table. He fell off.
9. I let my child eat dog biscuits.
10. I let my child gum my keys, even though they're probably the most germ-infested objects in the world.
11. If The Kid's dummy falls on the floor, I pop it in my mouth, give it a suck and hand it back to him. Apparently this should not be done.
How does that score on the badness scale?
3 things that could be frowned upon
My homework:
I smack
I smack
Don't hate me: I smack sometimes. Very occasionally. But yes, I smack. All the books say you shouldn’t. My heart tells me I shouldn’t. But I smack sometimes when things are getting out of hand. Like when Jonah bites Hannah because he feels like it, or when James taunts Hannah or Jonah because he can, or when James refuses, point blank, to tidy his room after I’ve asked him 50 times to do so, and then when he does, it’s with such an attitude that he throws things.
I let my kids eat a biscuit when they wake up
It all started as something I did when I was pregnant. I was avoiding coffee, so the only thing that would wake me up was a sugary biscuit. The children caught onto it and now it’s a tradition: they wake up, come into our bedroom and have a biscuit before they go and play.
I allow my children way too much leeway in the Sleeping-On-Their-Own department
James slept in our room, in a cot, until he was almost 2. Hannah slept in our bed until she was almost 3. Jonah has recently been moved to his own bed in James’s room but he has yet to spend an entire night there. I’ve also allowed them to manipulate me into lying next to them until they fall asleep: we did that with James and Hannah until they were 3. I just heard from my dad that he doesn’t do that when he babysits: he gives Jonah his bottle and then walks out of the room. Funny how he gets it right but I can’t…
To PET or NOT to PET
I watched as Max's tiny little body floated to the top ............of the fish bowl.......
Bon Voyage dear little friend.
I have on several occasions had to experience saying goodbye to my children's pets.
It is said that getting your children pets teaches them responsibility as well as how to deal with death.
I remember accidentally driving over my 10 year old dog. Oh my word it all plays back in slow mode to me. Everyone was standing outside it was horrific, (there was no blood just a quick bump and a silent death) and in a few seconds it was over my child came running down the drive way shouting "mommy why did you kill a family member" TALK about GUILT. This Bad mommy sobbed for days.
With the death of Max, my son all of a sudden took interest and BAM poor max was being paraded through the house on a fish net. It would have been fine if he was taken around for final farewells but no it was as if MAX had now become the science project before being flushed.
What exactly are we teaching our kids and when do we say NO MORE PETS.
I mean it is MOMMY who gets attached to the pets, and even though we tell our kids its your responsibility - its mommy that feeds the pet, potty trains the pet and picks ups all the POOP.
"Come and feed the cats... NOW" I have found this a common phrase used in our household. "BUT MOOOooom its your cats..." you see all of a sudden its mine.
Then my son came home "mom SO and SO has a snake i want a snake or a tarantula and if i cannot get one i will DIE.......... " well i tell you this is it I want to know from the other MOMMIES:
What is your opinion on pets - and your children's role in the new family members life. AND when do you say NO and HOW do you say NO to hairy and scaly pets without destroying your sons dreams of becoming a Nature conservationist.
look foward to hearing from you all.
Yiddy
Bon Voyage dear little friend.
I have on several occasions had to experience saying goodbye to my children's pets.
It is said that getting your children pets teaches them responsibility as well as how to deal with death.
I remember accidentally driving over my 10 year old dog. Oh my word it all plays back in slow mode to me. Everyone was standing outside it was horrific, (there was no blood just a quick bump and a silent death) and in a few seconds it was over my child came running down the drive way shouting "mommy why did you kill a family member" TALK about GUILT. This Bad mommy sobbed for days.
With the death of Max, my son all of a sudden took interest and BAM poor max was being paraded through the house on a fish net. It would have been fine if he was taken around for final farewells but no it was as if MAX had now become the science project before being flushed.
What exactly are we teaching our kids and when do we say NO MORE PETS.
I mean it is MOMMY who gets attached to the pets, and even though we tell our kids its your responsibility - its mommy that feeds the pet, potty trains the pet and picks ups all the POOP.
"Come and feed the cats... NOW" I have found this a common phrase used in our household. "BUT MOOOooom its your cats..." you see all of a sudden its mine.
Then my son came home "mom SO and SO has a snake i want a snake or a tarantula and if i cannot get one i will DIE.......... " well i tell you this is it I want to know from the other MOMMIES:
What is your opinion on pets - and your children's role in the new family members life. AND when do you say NO and HOW do you say NO to hairy and scaly pets without destroying your sons dreams of becoming a Nature conservationist.
look foward to hearing from you all.
Yiddy
Saturday, July 26, 2008
rebel yell & other bad mom doings
The question for the week: What 3 things do you do, as a mother, that goes against all the books?
1. I can be a yeller and have been known to even swear a tad. It's often ineffectual (except in generating fear) and it makes me look like a lunatic, but sometimes it's all I can do to avoid breaking things.
2. Leave my kids home alone for up to an hour after school. They are 9 & 8 and I'm pretty sure it's legal but most moms around here would lose their minds about this. [For the record, I do call to check in and make sure they've locked the door, and usually there is a trustworthy neighbor available]
3. Allow ice cream, cake, pizza, or chocolate chips with breakfast. Usually there is a waffle or oatmeal involved with one of those items, but sometimes we just call it good if any food has been consumed in the morning.
And now I'm going to go do #4 which is take a long hot bath wearing ear plugs...
1. I can be a yeller and have been known to even swear a tad. It's often ineffectual (except in generating fear) and it makes me look like a lunatic, but sometimes it's all I can do to avoid breaking things.
2. Leave my kids home alone for up to an hour after school. They are 9 & 8 and I'm pretty sure it's legal but most moms around here would lose their minds about this. [For the record, I do call to check in and make sure they've locked the door, and usually there is a trustworthy neighbor available]
3. Allow ice cream, cake, pizza, or chocolate chips with breakfast. Usually there is a waffle or oatmeal involved with one of those items, but sometimes we just call it good if any food has been consumed in the morning.
And now I'm going to go do #4 which is take a long hot bath wearing ear plugs...
Friday, July 25, 2008
What Worked For You?
I know a mommy with a new baby girl. The kid is colicky and cries constantly. We've all been there, we all know what it's like.
So, I want to know - what worked for you? What was your miracle cure?
I'm going to collect all the answers, and send them to her, just so she has a bunch of options to try.
(you may reply to this as a comment - ie: this question is thrown wide to contributors and readers alike)
So, I want to know - what worked for you? What was your miracle cure?
I'm going to collect all the answers, and send them to her, just so she has a bunch of options to try.
(you may reply to this as a comment - ie: this question is thrown wide to contributors and readers alike)
Thursday, July 24, 2008
3 things that could be frowned upon
The question for the week: What 3 things do you do, as a mother, that goes against all the books?
Here are mine:
1. Kids get chips, or whatever is readily available, to eat to tide them over until dinner is ready. My mom would NEVER have done that! The problem is that I can never get home early enough to have supper ready in time, and I'd rather they not scream the place down while I'm cooking.
2. I leave the kids to play in the bath, and fetch things from the rooms. Yes, even the little one! How the heck are you supposed to stay in the bathroom if you've forgotten to get jarmies or a vest? It's too cold at the moment to dress them in their rooms. OK, I'm not that bad... I haven't been doing this for long with the little one!
3. We don't have a staircase gate. And that's probably why Connor can already climb the stairs. This does give me the heebie jeebies at times especially when he starts running at full steam for the top of the staircase, but nothing has happened so far (touch wood), and we are always upstairs with him.
I've restricted it to 3, so that I don't get carried away! LOL!
Here are mine:
1. Kids get chips, or whatever is readily available, to eat to tide them over until dinner is ready. My mom would NEVER have done that! The problem is that I can never get home early enough to have supper ready in time, and I'd rather they not scream the place down while I'm cooking.
2. I leave the kids to play in the bath, and fetch things from the rooms. Yes, even the little one! How the heck are you supposed to stay in the bathroom if you've forgotten to get jarmies or a vest? It's too cold at the moment to dress them in their rooms. OK, I'm not that bad... I haven't been doing this for long with the little one!
3. We don't have a staircase gate. And that's probably why Connor can already climb the stairs. This does give me the heebie jeebies at times especially when he starts running at full steam for the top of the staircase, but nothing has happened so far (touch wood), and we are always upstairs with him.
I've restricted it to 3, so that I don't get carried away! LOL!
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