This morning Kiki was screamingly mad at me because her drawers were empty when she wanted to get dressed. According to her, this was my fault because I failed to make her empty her laundry basket. My refusal to accept responsibility for the consequences of her not doing her chores made Kiki very mad.
Also on the “made Kiki mad this morning” list:
The fact that I assumed that getting her out of bed once should have been enough.
Gleek reclaiming her brush from the bathroom where Kiki had stashed it. The unfairness that Gleek’s brush is the best one in the house and the only brush that Kiki wants to use and now Gleek would lose it so that Kiki couldn’t use it anymore.
The fact that Howard was going to scold Kiki for making everyone late.
Gleek refusing to leave the bedroom so that Kiki could dress in privacy.
The fact that in order to get Gleek out of the room, I gave Gleek a mobile which Kiki made. Kiki didn’t want the mobile, but she was ready to fight tooth and nail to see it thrown away rather than let Gleek have it for 3 minutes so I could focus on helping Kiki get ready.
The fact that we are unable/unwilling to give her a room of her own.
I don’t like to send kids off to school upset, but sometimes they don’t give me any other choice.
When I was on the Lois McMaster-Bujold listserve, we once knocked around the idea of a “Pediatric Stunner” for parents who were having a hair tearing day with their kids (or just wanted the little darlings to settle down and Go To Bed). I think in the end we decided, even using rules that Beta Colony would consider strict, that it was a horribly bad idea.
Vastly tempting some days though…
When I was on the Lois McMaster-Bujold listserve, we once knocked around the idea of a “Pediatric Stunner” for parents who were having a hair tearing day with their kids (or just wanted the little darlings to settle down and Go To Bed). I think in the end we decided, even using rules that Beta Colony would consider strict, that it was a horribly bad idea.
Vastly tempting some days though…
I’m going to try to say this in a way that won’t sound horrible, but my brain is slowly turning to mush from the horrifying disease of placenta brain and I have a cold. But honestly, if there’s a terrible way to take this, and a ‘oooh, compliments’ way to take this, take the complimentary way, please.
I have a total love-on for your parenting skills. I read your journal and often think “oh, store that for when this comes up with the baby” or “I certainly hope I’m that self-reflective when I am a parent”. That being said, it makes me hopeful that I can be a good parent when I see that your kids are not perfect lil angels all the time, and that you struggle with monster-spawn every so often. That level or normality and imperfection really emphasizes to me that so long as I make a conscious effort to be a good mum, I’ll be okay.
Of course, I’m a wry and sarcastic person, so I think my children will wind up slightly scarred by their upbringing. People are already horrified that I speak to my uterus in a stern way and sometimes try to give the baby a gentle prod to reposition itself when it tap-dances on my bladder. (But honestly, if I don’t tell him/her, how will the little beggar ever know that it hurts?)
I’m going to try to say this in a way that won’t sound horrible, but my brain is slowly turning to mush from the horrifying disease of placenta brain and I have a cold. But honestly, if there’s a terrible way to take this, and a ‘oooh, compliments’ way to take this, take the complimentary way, please.
I have a total love-on for your parenting skills. I read your journal and often think “oh, store that for when this comes up with the baby” or “I certainly hope I’m that self-reflective when I am a parent”. That being said, it makes me hopeful that I can be a good parent when I see that your kids are not perfect lil angels all the time, and that you struggle with monster-spawn every so often. That level or normality and imperfection really emphasizes to me that so long as I make a conscious effort to be a good mum, I’ll be okay.
Of course, I’m a wry and sarcastic person, so I think my children will wind up slightly scarred by their upbringing. People are already horrified that I speak to my uterus in a stern way and sometimes try to give the baby a gentle prod to reposition itself when it tap-dances on my bladder. (But honestly, if I don’t tell him/her, how will the little beggar ever know that it hurts?)
So… Kiki’s entering the teenage years, then?
So… Kiki’s entering the teenage years, then?
Somebody got up on the wrong side of the world today!
Somebody got up on the wrong side of the world today!
How about Children’s Chewable Valium? In five lucious fruit flavours…
How about Children’s Chewable Valium? In five lucious fruit flavours…
Oh, I feel bad for her. And you. Her, because I remember what it was like not to be able to get control of my emotions and to take them out on everyone else because I didn’t know what else to do with them. And you because it sucks to have to deal with it.
Oh, I feel bad for her. And you. Her, because I remember what it was like not to be able to get control of my emotions and to take them out on everyone else because I didn’t know what else to do with them. And you because it sucks to have to deal with it.
Ooh! The Kiddie-Zapper 3000! (Not to be confused with the Kitty-Zapper 3000, which is the recreational model!) 😉
Ooh! The Kiddie-Zapper 3000! (Not to be confused with the Kitty-Zapper 3000, which is the recreational model!) 😉
When Kiki was still a resident of my uterus, she used to tuck her feet up under my ribs and push. It hurt. LOTS. I regularly pushed back, forcing her to readjust her position. Sounds to me like you’re just beginning to establish a normal give-and-take relationship with your baby.
When Kiki was still a resident of my uterus, she used to tuck her feet up under my ribs and push. It hurt. LOTS. I regularly pushed back, forcing her to readjust her position. Sounds to me like you’re just beginning to establish a normal give-and-take relationship with your baby.
Yup. She’s 11.
Yup. She’s 11.