Tag Archives: discipline

Cyber-Punished

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Today I was banned from Facebook. Don’t panic! My Facebook rights should be reinstated tomorrow. As this was my first offense, I only got a 24 hour ban. I guess that repeat offenders get banned for good.

So, what did I do that was so wrong? I posted this photo:

Clearly scandalous, no?

My reprimand and subsequent time-out from Facebook has put me through a range of emotions today not dissimilar to the 5 Stages of Grief:

  1. Denial: What? I’m banned? Can’t be. Let me update my status about that. WTF? I can’t update my status?? Can’t be. Let me try again.
  2. Anger: WTF? I didn’t do anything wrong! Who is the idiot in charge of this ridiculous process? Did someone actually report this picture as inappropriate? What kind of sick person would think that way? This is not fair! I have something to say about it! But I’ve been muted! ARRRGGGH!
  3. Bargaining: Maybe I can send an email to someone explaining the misunderstanding. Obviously the carefully crafted rules and regulations regarding offensive or nude photos did not have this photo in mind. There’s been a mistake. We can work this out, surely!
  4. Depression: There is no way to contact an actual person at Facebook. Figures. What about all the funny stuff that keeps popping in my head? These are gems that are just going to be lost to my own poor memory. What should I do now? Hmmm. I have nothing to do. My life is empty. Wow. I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I’m pathetic.
  5. Acceptance: OK, deep breaths. The rules are there to protect my very own naked children against pervs. Yes, I think banning me for this is an overreaction, but it is what it is. It’s just a day. Do I have a Facebook habit? Sure. But it could be worse. I could be doing meth.
What did I learn about myself today? That I actually grieved the loss of my ability to post on Facebook as ‘Motherhood, WTF?’ for 24 hours. I’m going to go ahead and call this a First-World Problem. My takeaway is that I’m fortunate enough for this to be my biggest problem today.

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The Brutal, Ugly Truth

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L comes up with new, crazy-ass ways to be bad on a daily basis. It’s 9:45 PM and we hear him walking around after he had been sleeping. I go upstairs to check on him. He’s happy, gives me a big hug. His hair is wet. Really wet.

“Why is your hair wet?”

“Because I’m so cold.”

Hmmm. Not a good answer. I go into his room to tuck him back into his bed. His bed is soaked. The whole bed. From pillow right on down.

“Why is your bed wet?” No answer. “Did you pee?” (All over it?) No answer. I need to investigate further. I go into the bathroom where I find a soaking wet towel in the sink. Shit. What did he do??

Back in his room I begin to strip the bed. As I do I feel my blood pressure increase. My temper rises. Suddenly I’m seeing red. Here I go. I’m about to lose it…

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? YOU CAN’T BE TRUSTED TO LIVE IN A HOUSE WHERE YOU HAVE ACCESS TO A BATHROOM??? ARE WE GOING TO HAVE TO START LOCKING THE BATHROOM DOORS? WE’VE ALREADY LOCKED AWAY YOUR SOAP AND YOUR TOOTHPASTE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BE TRUSTED WITH THOSE, BUT NOW YOU CAN’T EVEN BE TRUSTED WITH PLUMBING??!!”

I can tell I’ve lost it completely. I am now officially crazed. I can’t stop. My anger is overwhelming. I keep screaming. It’s like a freight train. Unstoppable. L is crying. As I move around his bed, remaking it, I step on something wet. Underpants, lying next to a wet pair of shorts.

“What’s this?” No answer. “WHAT IS THIS?”

“I peed.”

“How did you manage to pee in underpants and shorts when you’re wearing a pull-up?” No answer. Uh-oh. Here comes the red again. I can feel the surge, my heart pounding. Suddenly I’m screaming again…

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?? WHY DO YOU DO THE THINGS YOU DO?? WHY DON’T YOU THINK? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO BE HERE SCREAMING AT YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? DO YOU THINK THIS IS WHAT I WANT? WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BEHAVE?”

I went on and on with no sign that this tirade was ever going to end. T finally came in and ushered me out of L’s room. And now I’m here writing this while T finishes with L upstairs and puts him back to bed. Adrenaline flows through me. My hands shake as I type. I still don’t know the full story of what happened: what was water, what was pee or why. All I know is that I seem to be hanging on to the very last shred of the last tiny millimeter of the end of my rope.  I no longer have a cushion of patience, understanding or perspective.

I am well aware that I overreacted tonight in a big way. I screamed like a crazy person. Like a very bad mother. My throat hurts. I’m sure my neighbors heard through the open windows, even though their houses are far from mine. L is now back in bed sleeping, not 15 minutes after this whole episode. Clearly he was not terribly distressed by my tantrum, which only means that he’s seen it before. That he’s not shocked like he really ought to be.

This is The Ugly. This is what happens here that I’m sure doesn’t happen in your houses.

I’m so sick and tired of fighting all the time, of the constant vigilance I have to keep with L, the nonstop battles over every little thing all day long every single day. It’s just too hard. It feels so unfair sometimes. Like I was given the wrong child. This kid needs a better mother – someone with more patience and kindness. I give up.

Hello, Universe? You made a mistake. You didn’t give me a challenge I could rise to, but one that has totally destroyed me. Please check your records and make the appropriate adjustments. 

OK, the adrenaline has subsided. My tantrum is over. Now I’m just stuck with the shitty emotional cocktail of failure, weakness, guilt and sadness. Really, what was the big deal all about? He played with water? What the fuck is the matter with me anyway?

Baby Haters?

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Actual Facebook status of a college (clearly childless) friend:

Note to all you parents out there: if you can’t get your baby to stop crying for more than 30 seconds at a time throughout a 2 1/2 hour flight, maybe you should hold off on flying because people like me hate people like you. On an unrelated note, I think it’s about time for a vasectomy.

After a mix of comments, none of which were a hand reaching out of his screen and smacking him, he followed up with:

Listen, I’m not anti child, I am anti shitty parent. If you can’t shut your kid up for more than 30 seconds on a 3 hour flight, I guarantee you that all 20 people sitting within earshot from you think you aren’t trying hard enough.

Am I naive to be shocked by this? Am I so far gone into parenthood that I’ve forgotten how people without kids think and feel? Did I feel this way? Is it normal?

My question to him was, “How exactly should these shitty parents make their baby shut up?” I haven’t gotten an answer yet.

Do childless people really think parents can make our kids and babies do anything? Or is it just a matter of not thinking it through? Obviously we can’t make them do anything. If we could, parenting would be easy. We could make them eat what they’re served, make them go on the potty, make them behave in public places, make them go to sleep and make them stop crying. If only!

Then again, that would mean that our children had no wills of their own, that they were not their own people, that they were not capable of exerting themselves or having independent thought. I’m the first to raise my hand to tell you that my kids’ will and independent thought are often entirely frustrating to me, but I’m still happy that they have them!

As for the crying baby on the plane, I hope that before I had kids I was smart enough to know that despite how entirely annoying to me a crying baby might be, there’s nothing that the parents could do about it. Those poor parents were surely trying all they could think of, and certainly felt the judgement of all the people around them. I’m positive that the parents were more stressed and unhappy about the whole ordeal than anyone else, baby included.

As for my college friend, not sure if I want him to get that vasectomy immediately, or to have a baby of his own!

Thank You

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I want you all to know that I read every comment I get here and on my FB page and every single email. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the feedback, support, advice and points of view. There are too many awesome points for me to respond to each one, so I’m writing this as a general response:

  • Yes, I am still going to go forward with having L evaluated by someone who is not that douche-bag doctor we saw the other day. My objective is to find out what makes L tick, so I can help him tick in a way that will not piss me off is more socially acceptable.
  • You’re right, all kids behave worse at home. I should be happy and proud that L can behave so well at school. It does mean, at the very least, that he’s not a psychopath, sociopath, or any other kind of terrible-path. And it also shows that he trusts me enough to never really sell him on eBay.
  • I will try to look at L’s ransacking the baking/junkfood cabinet and the freezer at dawn today as a step towards his becoming an independent, self-reliant man. (Damn, some of you are very glass-half-full people!)
  • I had an aha moment today when I read this comment:

….I’ve found my kids doing the exact same things. They ignore rules they’ve known for years, make messes just for the sake of being messy, and misbehave for me while acting the angel for everyone else. I’ve also come to realize that every time they act this way, it’s because they know they can get away with it. I realize I’ve fallen into the parent trap of frustrated speech, not following through, and trying to plead with them to do what I told them. When I follow through with discipline and kind words, all goes back to normal…

Dean is totally right on. Things were bad with L a year ago, I got really strict and mean, things got better. Things were so good that I thought I was out of the woods. I let my guard down. I let small things slide. Small things snowballed into an avalanche of bad, and now I’m here. Time to bring back mean mommy. This will not be fun, but will probably provide blog-fodder.

So, watch out, L! Mean-Mommy is back. And Daddy’s going to bring back Hammer-T. I will try very, very, very hard not to react emotionally. I will suppress my inner combustible self. I will be nonplussed, calm, and mean.

Split-Personality?

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I had a long conversation this morning with the director of L’s daycare that should have made me feel better, but just made me feel worse. He’s been going there part-time since just before S was born – so just over 2 years. They know him well and know that I struggle with him. They see him at drop off and pick up and how he acts (out of control and obnoxious) and have always told me that he’s completely different the second I leave.

I told her that I’m getting him evaluated and asked if in her opinion L might have ADHD or some similar problem. She said no, absolutely not. She has seen kids with ADHD over the years and L totally does not fit the bill. He listens to the teachers without defiance. He is excitable, but is quickly and easily settled down. She said that he is 100% within the normal range of behavior for a 4-year-old boy, that he is not one of the kids that needs to be spoken to more than once.

However, she sees how he is with me. She said she’d like to see my drop offs be much quicker so that L and the other kids don’t think that sort of behavior is at all acceptable there. I try to get out the door as fast as possible but L hangs on me, hits me, insists he’s going with me, opens the door and runs outside…

So, I should be happy that L is so well behaved in school. That he is able to hold it together, to listen, to engage and interact well with the kids and teachers. I should be happy. But I’m miserable. What am I doing so wrong to make him so so so bad with me?

This morning, he did not come into my room as he normally does around 7. Was he sleeping in? Nope. He had opened the baby gate at the top of the stairs (which most adults can’t manage) and came downstairs and helped himself to cookies, chocolate chips, shredded coconut and 2 popsicles!. He made a massive mess – coconut and melted popsicle all over the place – and he ate almost a whole package of cookies. This is blatantly against any and all rules and he knows that. He seemed proud of himself when I discovered it all. I’m so shocked at this level of badness that I still can’t wrap my head around it.

I don’t know what to do. He is so out of control.

The Worst Ride

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This is not working. My home life feels like a war zone. Everything is a battle. I have tried so many ways to get through to L, and he just seems hell-bent on choosing the fight every time.

Lately I’ve tried explaining that he has a choice. When he raises his hand to hit me I calmly say, “Think about what you’re about to do. Think about what you want. Think about how you can get what you want. Think about what will happen if you hit me.” This sometimes does the trick. On a dime he will switch from a hateful, spitting-mad psychopath to a sweet, affectionate boy. (Does this mean he’s a crazy person? Who can turn such big emotions on and off like that?)

Sometimes reminding him to think about it doesn’t work. When he’s just geared up for a fight, there is nothing anyone can do but live through what comes next.

I’m sick of it.

My two children are not getting the same kind of attention, love, and affection from me. I try. I really, really, really try to give L all the positive reinforcement, all the encouragement, all the praise, love, affection that I can. But it’s impossible to do sometimes.

At least 2/3 of my interactions with him are battles.

And those that aren’t battles are just battles that haven’t started yet. I can’t play with him because when the play time ends it’s a melt down. I can’t tickle, wrestle with, act silly with, chase…. I don’t get to enjoy him the way I want. The way he would love. With him I have to restrain myself. The more playful I am, the more crazy he gets, the bigger the fallout in the end.

It seems so unfair. All day long I could play with S. I get to chase her to put on her PJs. I’ve never been able to do this with L. Even when he was her age, he took the games too far. He’d run away, but not in a playful way. In a serious, I’m-running-away-from-you-and-when-you-catch-me-I-will-hit-and-kick-and-forever-try-to-escape-and-if-I-can’t-I-will-completely-fall-apart kind of way. It sucks.

And every time I play with S I think of all the good times L and I have missed out on. All the good times we’ll forever miss out on because he makes everything so hard.

I have tried lavishing him with attention and play, but he’s insatiable. It doesn’t matter if it’s one minute, thirty minutes, or three days. When it ends he goes nuts. Often he goes nuts in the middle just by taking things too far. Tickling turns into aggression. Chase turns into wrecking the house.

This isn’t fair and I find myself constantly thinking the terrible thought “Why can’t I just have two like S?” I think L has so much awesomeness going for him, but for some reason it’s like he’s choosing to just act terribly. I’m tired of it. I feel like it’s not fair to the rest of us.

Clearly I’m not handling him right. But every different thing I’ve tried has failed in a different way.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I started writing this while T wrangled with L in his worst form. I felt beat up, defeated. I felt sorry for myself. Then I had to step away from the computer because after T came downstairs L begged, through hysterical tears from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, please come help me calm down. Please come up and calm me down.” He needed to sit on my lap and rock like a baby. He needed me to help him take some deep breaths, whisper nice things, sing him a song. And then that’s that. He’s calm, he’s happy. Obviously his emotions are just too big for him to deal with. He’s feeling out of control.

And now I feel like a shitty mom for wishing he wasn’t him but some S-like child instead. He’s just a little person trying to deal, and not figuring out how everyone else is doing it. And I’m right there beside him on his roller coaster. Going from hopeful to angry to defeated to self-pitying to sad to guilty and back to hopeful again. It’s an exhausting cycle.

Fresh Mouth

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If you’re looking for a post about mouthwash, move on. This is about the fresh mouth and attitude that L has developed. He thinks nothing of talking back and saying things like “Stupid Mommy” and “I hate you!” This drives me nuts! I realize how little control I actually have. I can’t make him stop saying this stuff. All I can do is give him consequences, talk to him about how it’s not OK to say such things, and hope he makes better choices in the future. Which, so far, he has not chosen to do.

All you pro-spankers out there are getting excited to tell me to spank him, right? I honestly don’t think that would be an effective punishment for him. He’s the first one to point out if I chastise him for something I do myself. You know how I pinched him the other day? Well, he’s reminded me of it several times with comments like, “Since Mommy pinched me, it’s OK to pinch people.”  When I explain the difference between me and him, that my pinch was meant to teach him something etc, I get “Well, I can only pinch someone if they do something bad first.” I just don’t need to go there with hitting.

So, what to do? Just wait it out and hope that he one day develops the desire to respect me? Yell and scream at him like a maniac when he talks back? Ignore it?

His first reaction lately when things don’ t go his way is to call someone stupid and tell them that he hates them. So this comes up a lot.

I can feel the people out there who are thinking ‘this behavior just wouldn’t fly in my house!’ Well, why not? Because your children never tried it? Or if they did, what kind of response did they get from you to let them know they’d better not do it again?

L is not deterred by time outs, not deterred by privileges or beloved objects taken away. He’s smart enough to know that there is no real consequence – that we’ll always love him, feed him and let him live in the house. In fact, he often will infuriatingly say “But you still love me!” right in the middle of a battle.

Nothing makes me feel like a shittier mom that having my obnoxious 4-year-old show complete disrespect and disregard for me. Please tell me your kids are jerks sometimes too?

It’s True, My Kid Really is More Annoying

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Another special day with L ruined by none other than L. I dropped S off at daycare, took L back home and we went on a long bike ride. Back home for an early lunch and then I took him to the movies. We even had popcorn and candy – a real treat around here. He’s been to the movies 3 or maybe 4 times, but has never had anything from the concession stand. So far, the day is a resounding success. But wait…

Upon exiting the theater, I turn on my phone to find 3 voicemails. S has a fever and needs to be picked up.

This is where L turns from lucky kid out for a great day with his mom to horrible, ungrateful, evil, selfish little bugger who’s about to get what’s coming to him. He doesn’t want to leave because he wants to sit on the arcade motorcycle game, with no quarters put into it, and pretend to ride. “I’m sorry, your sister is sick and I need to pick her up. They’ve been trying to reach me for a long time. We have to go.”

He leaves with me, but pouts about it. “I never get to do anything special.” (Yes, he says this as we leave the movie theater, while we are still in the middle of a special outing. WTF?)

On the ride home from picking up S:

“Can I ride my bike when we get home?”

“No, it will be rest time.”

“Yes I can. I can do whatever I want. You can’t stop me, Stupid.”

This is when I see some movement in the rear view mirror. For no reason, after no provocation whatsoever, L’s arm reaches across and does something to S which makes her scream and cry.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear, she’s just crying.”

S holds her arm, crying and crying. Obviously L is lying. I pull the car over.

“Tell me what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything. I promise.”

“You’re lying to me. I saw you.”

“You did? Uh, I did this.” (demonstrates pinching.)

What kind of little shit of a person just reaches out and pinches someone for no reason? A sick toddler no less? So, I did the only reasonable thing that came to mind: I pinched his arm.

OK, OK, so it was not reasonable, nor well thought out, nor done with more pain to me than him but for his benefit as a lesson. I did it because I was pissed off and wanted to hurt him. Just a little.

Well, he cried the whole way home telling me that I’m stupid and mean and that I’m not supposed to pinch back no matter how bad he is or what he does to S. And honestly, I’m not sure if he’s right or wrong about all of that.

He’s now upstairs throwing things down and I’m trying my best to ignore him.

So, will our great morning leave a lasting impression on him? Will he remember his mom as the person who goes on bike rides, goes to the movies and indulges in popcorn? Or the mean lady who pinched him when she should have known better?

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When Your Kid Acts Like a Jerk in Front of Others

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The time: yesterday at 4PM.

The place: our swimming pool/back yard.

The offense: epic tantrum while friends were here.

The players: L vs the rest of the world.

The truth is that he was set up. Well, only in retrospect and with the help of my maternal neuroses. The real truth is that he acted like a huge jerk. (Yes, it’s totally OK to refer to your 4-year-old as a jerk.) But he was tired for legitimate reasons which were all really my fault. He was hungry, again my fault. He had been overstimulated, me again. And no one else wanted to pretend the kick boards were really secret treasure maps; I don’t take blame for that one.

“I HATE YOU! YOU BIG-BUTT! NEVER COME PLAY IN MY POOL AGAIN! GET AWAY FROM ME! STOP LOOKING AT ME!”

This went on for some time. My friend L took it as a cue to leave (who wouldn’t?) and in record time she managed to get her two kids out of the pool, into the van and speeding from the scene. But our entertaining agenda wasn’t over yet. I expected our neighbors with their 3 kids any minute for more pool time and dinner. Normally the thought of people around while L acted like a world-class brat would stress me out. But I’ve come to a realization: parents everywhere are suffering the hours of 4PM until bedtime. We might as well suffer them together! I was stuck with miserable L either way, why not have some other people around who might at least distract me for a while?

For various reasons including, but not limited to, overnight guests the previous night, several cocktails and a surprising number of empty wine bottles, and a big elaborate grown-up brunch, I sort of forgot all about feeding my kids lunch. (What, did you say Mom of the Year?) This was simply a case of a food emergency.

I cooked dinner. Fast.

“I WON’T EAT! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME! STOP TALKING TO ME! YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!”

This is where dealing with this child day in and day out finally gave me an advantage. “L, I bet you that if you eat you will feel better.”

“I WON’T FEEL BETTER! I WILL NEVER FEEL BETTER! I DON’T LIKE YOU! STOP TALKING TO ME!”

“If you feel better, I win. If you don’t, you win. It’s a contest.”

A competition of any sort? He was in. After two bites he is a changed person. After much more happy pool play, seconds of dinner and ice-cream, he said to me, “Mommy, I guess you won that one.”

If winning is defined as surviving my 4-year-old’s screaming fit in front of two separate sets of friends, I certainly don’t want to find out what losing looks like.

Let’s Have a Revolution

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You know what is absolutely not necessary in the world? Moms who tell you that their children never have had a tantrum. Especially when this comment comes as part of a conversation with another mom about how our almost 2-year-olds are suddenly willful, crying lunatics. Kids who have never thrown a fit? Puh-leeze! What utter bullshit!

This scenario happened to me at a party recently. The other mom has one child, almost 2 years old. She just experienced a mortifying public tantrum and we were discussing disciplining and consequences in public. A tricky topic for any mom, right? Something we can all empathize with and understand, right? Who hasn’t been totally mortified in the supermarket? I’ll tell you who. The little-miss-perfect mom standing to my left. Allegedly.

This mom, and other sancti-mommies like her, claims that none of her three children, ranging in age from 8-14, has ever had a tantrum or embarrassing public episode. Trying hard not to kick her in the knees or say something really, really snarky, I told her that she has some “special kids.”

Special, as in we should all be concerned for these poor catatonic children. Are they malnourished or in need of medical intervention? Is that the explanation for their apparent lack of a will? Or should I be concerned because they are being raised by a mother who is so desperate to appear “perfect” that she needs to tell strangers (who are openly admitting to their own kids’ horribleness) that her kids are beyond reproach to the point of being scarcely human?

Meanwhile, the other mom’s face held a crestfallen expression of parental failure. Why isn’t her kid behaving as well as this other person’s? Incredibly, she actually asked this crazy bitch for tricks and advice. The only thing more obnoxious than saying that your three kids have never thrown a fit, is taking credit for that nonsense. This mom was only too happy to share her perfect parenting secrets.

I then completely scandalized her by telling a fairly benign story of how I was once so mad at L while we were driving that I not only pulled the car over and stopped, but got out and walked far away. You should have seen the look on perfect-mom’s face at that one. You’d think by her reaction that I told her I had filled a sack with babies and kittens, tied some bricks to it and threw it into the river.

Can’t we all admit to our own struggles already? Why is it a secret that kids (and all people, really) can suck sometimes? And it’s not just parenting. Have you ever told someone something you’re struggling with only to be met with total righteousness?

“I’m really having a hard time watching what I eat and getting to the gym.”

“Oh really? My body is a temple and I couldn’t possibly eat one (organic, vegan, and sprouted) bite more than what I need to keep it working perfectly. And I’m just naturally energetic and disciplined. I’m up at 4AM for my daily 7 mile jog. I also do yoga 5 times per week, spin class twice and swim 8 miles on Sundays. Why don’t you just do that?”

“Fuck you.”

Can we have a national coming out day for average people? We can all proudly announce that we are good at some things sometimes. People could hold up signs that say “My kids watch TV!” and “I ate a pint of ice cream yesterday!” and “My kids are not gifted but I like them most of the time anyway!” I might need to pioneer a movement.
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