How many times a day should you have to say “Get your fingers outta your mouth”? More than a million? Or “Stop hitting your brother” or “Quit jumping on the furniture” or “Don’t grab the dog” or “Let your brother get his head out of the toilet so he can breathe once in a while”?
When you start to think “Yeah, having a kid would be a good idea”, strange, bizarre, very unlikely ideas float through your silly little noggin. “I will teach my child interesting things. How to walk, how to talk, how to tie shoes, how to cook at least one good meal, how to be truthful and stand up for what’s right.” Then the kid shows up. For the first year you don’t teach them nuthin’. You feed them and change diapers. Every day. For a year. Then their brain kicks in. The same time their personality goes into overdrive. Do they want to do what you want them to? Yeah, right, ya crackhead. For some reason they only want to do what they want to do. Like their some kind of person or something. Rotten kids.
Of course, the only things they want to do is the stuff you tell them not to. OK, so they do other things to once in a while. Sometimes as often as once a day. But you really notice the things they do when it’s the exact same thing you’ve just finished telling them not to do for the four thousandth time in the past hour. “Huh? Did you say something Daddy?” AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHH!
Then, just when you can’t take them any more, it’s bedtime. And the say “I love you” and go to sleep. And you look in one them and they’re just little angels and you think “I could pack a bag and be in Mexico before they wake up”. But first you have to pry the dog out of the couch cushions and there never seems to be the time, really. Luckily your a grown-up and can buy liquor.
-Rue.
Exciting Note: It’s been 17 years since the 17 Year Cicadas have swarmed! Get yourself a badminton raquet while you can.
And I have just spent five hours on a train telling my kid not to kick the seat in front of him, about every three seconds for all of those LOOOOONG five hours.
Oh, boy, do I hear you. Every single day, I tell my daughter about a hundred times to be gentle with the cat. (This interspersed with the hundred times my husband says it as well). It starts off as “Be gentle with kitty” and pretty much ends up as “Stop pulling the cat’s tail or she’ll scratch your eyes out and I won’t blame her a bit.” At that point, she usually does stop pulling the cat’s tail…because she has moved on and is now pulling my hair.
Yes, I’m a grown up and can buy liquor…but I’m also expecting again and can’t drink it. When thinking about spacing children, it’s all very well and good to think about whether you want to have 2 in diapers and how old will the first one be when the second one is 2 and all that…but what you really need to think about is “During which 9 months am I least likely to need a drink just to keep from killing someone or myself?”
My most oft-repeated phrase: “Get OUT of the kitchen!!” I say this about a zillion times a day to my two-yr-old and my four-yr-old. I’ve often thought of recording it just to save my vocal cords the hassle!
Jeeze man you got problems, get help. It’s getting to you …you can’t get your spelling right. It should be: Luckily you’re a grown-up and can buy lots and lots of liquor.
I don’t have kids yet, but I do tell my cats not to do things, and I tell them over and over and over and over…
It’s good practice, I guess. I’m already developing something-furry-is-probably-being-bad sensors, which react both to noise and to suspicious lack of noise. Sometimes quiet is the worst. Quiet means that one of them is perched on the highest shelf about to knock a glass vase down. Or one of them is peeing somewhere- not in the litterbox- and the other one is watching with interest.
Cats are good at a blank, kid-like stare of incomprehension- “oh, were you shouting at me not to claw the couch? I couldn’t hear you, Mommy. I’m too dumb, and you’re not important.”
OMG! Hi Lorene! How are ya besides pregnant? Congrats!!! Haven’t seen ya around much and wondered what was up
I must admit 2 children in diapers is a thankless existance. But they are kinda cute. And I’ve grown numb to the endless Dora videos. And Zacaroni is sleeping through the night now.
I find my life closely resembles the Bill Cosby skit about brain damaged children most days. I need a tape recorder that says things like “no killing the cat” or “stop riding the dog” and perhaps most important “don’t wake your brother.”
Life really is simpler with children. Instead of having to make elaborate plans involving candle lit dinners and theatre tickets - you’re playing trucks or blocks for the six hundredth time with “chicken fries coke” from your takeout place of choice with Dora playing softly in the background.
Oh, that reminds me Hokkaido, this summer we’re going on an Old Fashioned Family Vacation! The “Old Fashioned” part is we’re driving. But we have plenty of duct tape and we’re renting a giant van. I’m thinking of opting for the soundproof plexiglas that goes between the driving compartment and the back. I think between that and the Dramamine (for the prevention of motion sickness only) the Little Woman wants to get, we should be good. (Plus, good for you! It’s great to finally hear from you! We’ve been waiting.)
We’ve given up on the Pet Refereeing lorene. We just tell the boys “When the dog bites you, you’re going to be In Trouble!” Of course the older dog makes sure she’s two rooms away from the nearest child.
Maybe you should buy a parrot Mayflower. They’re bright and can learn to say it for you. Plus they poop less than a four year old.
You’re right don’t ask. Silly me. When I do go to the liquor store I just buy the keg that makes you go “hurng!” when you pick it up. Doesn’t matter much what’s inside, it’s the bulk that counts. Not that I go so often they know me and have it rung up before I get all the way into the store. No, no, no. I rotate my liquor shopping to avoid just that embarrassment.
I’d get myself fixed, but it wouldn’t help. I’m a teacher!!!
At least you parents get to see the little darlings when they are supposed to be asleep and looking cute. All we teachers see is insane little sugar-fueled terrorists bent on World Domination.
No kids, no pets, but does it count that I tell myself a hundred times a day that I don’t need to eat any more chocolate (and rarely listen to myself)?
Hey, I’m going to be closer to some of you regulars! (Excitement, excitment!) I’m visiting New York City (just a visit, I wouldn’t leave the Pacific Northwest for love or money–well, maybe love and money, but not just one). Anyway, the last week of April I’ll be in New York, and then I’m staying a couple extra days, so anybody live close enough to join me for dinner? Or a show? Or mad, passionate, shameless sex?
Okay, I’ll settle for a hug. But it’s got to be a good hug.
Yep, another teacher here, and I can tell you that silenus is correct. Alcohol in schools is discouraged. Too much and those little ankle biters can’t color in the lines worth beans.
Back when I was student teaching I figured there was only so much cheerful parience I could fake in any given 24 hours. Teaching paid the rent, which is more than you can say for some smelly little kid, even if you entice people with a buy one get one free sale. So teaching, no kidlets, that’s me. I know I felt the universe give a big sigh of relief on the day that decision was made.
As for your big family trip Rue, I highly recommend a good song book. My family sang it’s dorky way through many states on vacation. I still know all the words to Irish Eyes are Smiling and other campfire classics, which has served me well, lemmee tell ya. Or it will, I’m sure, one of these days. Be sure to stop at all roadside attractions, like alligator farms ‘n’ such. Oh! You could also spend one morning chasing a rainbow like we did. That was fun, even though we only found a diner at the end of our rainbow.
Mine is “stop jumping on the couch” and “no, you’ve watched enough TV today already.”
I’m divorced and I spent about a year living under the constant paralyzing fear that if I didn’t watch Rez, Jr’s every move that he could come away with a bruise of some sort and I would wind up being accused of child abuse or neglect. Then one day he came home from dad’s with a knot on his head. I don’t remember the specifics but the explanation was basically “We were playing outside and he fell. Little boys do that, you know.”
So now I get to say “Yes, Rez, Jr. Please bonk the wall with your head and see if it hurts” and not feel guilty. And the constant nagging and pleading not to do anything (that an over-protective mother considers) dangerous is limited to things that will cause actual major injury or produce blood. Like jumping on the couch. But if I didn’t have hardwood floors…
This weekend we instituted the .25C “I’m sorry” jar. It was to be a cussin’ jar, but after LilMiss saying “I’m sorry” for doing things she knows just aren’t to be done, I figure I should have enough money to retire within the next few years.
What I find so interesting is how she can remember things I said when she was three years old, but the continuous reminder to put her shoes away completely misses her.
With regards to animals- I’ve given up on reminding her to leave our dear old puddy-tats alone. They understand the concept of vengence. There’s no pity when you know to leave them alone and you end up with a claws extended face slap.
And we’ve only just begun the lip smacking/eyeball rolling answers stage…
My early motherhood mantra was "NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!!! See, when I was a babysitter, one of my little charges had beed running thru the living room when he stumbled and took a bite out of the hearth. Nice gouge in the chin for him. Thank goodness, it happened when he was under parental care - I’d have lost it. But after seeing his scar, I decided I didn’t want my kid to fare the same.
But she still did. She was about 2, cute as can be, with her yellow plastic sunglasses perched atop her head. She was running from the hall to the kitchen and she tripped. Her sunglasses flipped down and she smacked her forehead against the cheapie plastic nose thingies. No blood, but it looked like she had two little quote marks on her face.
I need to check when she gets home to see if she’s still got them.
I won’t have a vacation again this year. But at least I’ll be living with my sweetie…
Oh yeah, and sorry for being tardy to the MMP - I just drove back from MD today, and after 11.5 hours on the road, this is the earliest I could get on line. Did ya miss me?
Dramamine - you really DO want to experiment with this at home first. I gave it to my toddler on a flight from Japan to England, and it made him absolutely hyper and absolutely drunk. So the end result was four hours of following a staggering toddler round and round the plane at a mind-boggling clip, while he kept heading for the first class section (where we had got on through) yelling, “OFF! OFF!” Which was a bit difficult seeing as we were over Siberia at the time… And the first class flight attendant was snottily saying “Madam, you really will have to restrain your child” and me grabbing his arm and him flinging himself backwards with arm still in my hand and his elbow dislocating and me panicking and just grabbing it and PULLING it and the elbow clicking back, then me in economy with boy on lap, holding on to him with sweat running down my back as he struggled and screamed in drug induced hysteria for another hour and the man next to me looked like we was going to chuck us both out of the window. When I finally got out and met my parents I just dissolved into tears. The worst 14 hours of my life.
So you might want to do that experimenting thing…
And yes, the dog thing.
I found myself yelling at my older boy the other day “If LittlebrotherHokkaido” cries I shall come in here and smack YOU!"
