Dirty Little Secret

When I quit working full time, one of the first things I did was rush my kids to story time. Ironflower was 18 months old, Lovebug 3 months. Lovebug mostly hung out in his stroller. I drove to the main branch of the KC library because they had all sorts of neat kids’ stuff and a craft room and what have you. I was sure that Ironflower would love it because she loved (and still loves) listening to stories.

It was hell.

Ironflower did nothing but mortify me. She walked around instead of sitting in my lap. She talked during the stories. Sometimes she got up and did a little dance in front of whoever was reading, waving at the audience of parents and nannies.

The only reason I kept putting myself through the humiliation (because, even though this was a story time for young children, I got very few sympathetic looks from the staff when Ironflower acted up. Mostly they were annoyed) was because it was also my chance to check out grown up books. It takes a lot more than humiliation to keep me from getting new reading material.

At around 2 1/2 Ironflower suddenly became the pillar of story time. But that was after we moved here, so I never got to show off her excellent  behavior to the people who spent 10 months glaring at me. When Lovebug got mobile, he was always an angel at storytime. I figured it was because he’d been going practically since birth.

Anyway, today ChunkyMonkey and I went to storytime at our local, small library. ChunkyMonkey has also been going to storytime since birth. He does not get up in front of our librarian when she is reading or singing songs. But he doesn’t sit in my lap either.

He explores the room, stopping by to hug me frequently. He is usually quiet, but I don’t think he’s ever sat still for a story or a song. And I feel like apologizing to Ironflower, because ChunkyMonkey and I have a much better time at storytime than she and I ever did. I’m not embarrassed by his behavior or that he doesn’t act like all the sweet, docile children (at least, not in this particular instance). Consequently he does his thing and scribbles a bit on the craft and it’s all good.

Except when he inspires another child to rebel. Today 2 little girls – normally lap-sitters – noticed what a fine time ChunkyMonkey was having while walking around one of the craft tables. So they too decided to explore. And their mothers tried to corral them. Which made them run faster. And shriek. And pull on the table cloths.

It crossed my mind to make ChunkyMonkey sit down with me. That probably would have helped the other moms settle their girls down. But it also would have meant incurring the wrath of the pissed off ChunkyMonkey. This kind of wrath includes kicking, screaming, biting and throwing things.  I looked at him as he toddled toward me. He wasn’t shrieking or pulling the tablecloth or disrupting anything. He hugged me and gave me an angelic, then continued toddling around the table.

I totally let him. I believe the librarian cut short her book reading as the 2 girls ran around the craft tables. But that wasn’t my fault, was it?

Even though Hot Guy grew up around guns and hunting, we’ve avoided the gun issue as parents of young children. Why teach them about guns before they were ready to learn gun safety? In fact, my kids didn’t know what guns were until they went to preschool.

Then Lovebug came home shooting things.

He points his arm out and says, “Pishew! Pishew!” to indicate that he’s gotten us. He doesn’t call it shooting, he calls it , “Pishewing”. He calls the things he makes out of Legos his “Pishewers”. And we avoid the “g” word, because I don’t think guns should be thought of as toys. But I also don’t want to stop what appears to be some sort of instinctive male tendency.

Then we met the boys with guns.

Not much older than Lovebug’s 3, the boys carried water guns as tall as they were. They carried them into my parents’ town pool after the following directions from their mothers, “Shoot away from people, boys.” One boy found that boring and put the gun by his mother’s chair. The other also found that boring, but his solution was to shoot at people. People like my Lovebug.

Lovebug, being a lover and not a fighter – as well as no fan of the water, came running to me in tears. I said the boy was mean and to stay away from him. Lovebug, Ironflower and my mom built a sandcastle. The boy came over to shoot it with his water gun. Why? I don’t know. I loudly told him to stop and go away. I had to stand up and loom over him for it to work.

His mother did not notice. She did not notice a strange woman practically yelling at her son. She did not notice when he shot other kids in the face. She did not notice when he tripped over the large gun. She did not notice anything until he blasted her with water. Then she told him to stop. Twenty times.

And I stood there wondering, do toy guns make kids aggressive? Or do aggressive kids want toy guns? And what kind of IDIOT lets her son loose with a giant water gun at the crowded kiddie pool? And should I go say something to her?

What are your thoughts about toy guns?

There’s just not enough chocolate in the world for this shit. I think I need some Percocet or something.

I’m sick. The big kids are sick. Aunt Flo has dropped in and she seems to have brought extra luggage. Hot Guy and my parents, aka the only other people who watch my children, are out of town. I’m so behind in writing assignments that I don’t think I’ll ever catch up. I’m getting three hours of sleep a night. I’ve developed a Lexulous addiction (that’s Facebook Scrabble for those of you smart people who avoid Facebook). I have six loads of laundry to fold. The baby is teething. All of which I might be able to handle if….

Lovebug has lost his mind. He’s keeping himself awake at night (after a week where all my other schedule and sleep tweaks had him sleeping well) and demanding that I come in to his room during the night – ignoring him results in tantrums, which wake the baby and result in me going in there anyway. He’s crying and screaming every time he doesn’t get his way or is told how to behave. Consequences make him even more crazy, but half the time he calms down immediately when I tell him the tantrum will get him in even more trouble. And no matter how immediately the consequences happen or how many times I explain WHY he got in trouble, he seems to make no link between his behavior and consequences. I know he’s only three, but he understands other kinds of cause and effect and quite well. I just don’t know what to do with him. He has so many moments of sweetness and kindness that I’m reasonably sure he isn’t a lost cause, though he may well be if I keep yelling at him.

Any ideas? Or good drugs?

I would like to be able to tell you that I don’t swear in front of my children. I would like to be able to tell you that Hot Guy doesn’t either. But I would be lying.

I can tell you that we’ve taught Ironflower to dismiss our swears. She always reminds us that our choice of words isn’t nice. And then she brags that kids never say them (I love how naive my daughter is). But Lovebug is another matter.

Months ago he started saying, “Oh shit!” whenever he dropped something. Which was COMPLETELY my fault, since Hot Guy never says that. Months ago we started trying to talk him out of saying it, if for no other reason than I would have been mortified if his teacher had to call me about it. So naturally I too have tried to stop saying, “Oh shit.” I tried replacing shit with sugar and shoot like I used to do when I was teaching, but for some reason it didn’t take. Instead I found myself using my other favorite exclamation even more often.

And so now I have a two and a half year old who exclaims, “Oh, Cheezits Christ!” whenever something goes wrong. No matter what kind of crisis we’re having, I laugh every time he says it. It’s less blasphemous than what I actually say and he says it so earnestly ….I haven’t even tried to correct him.

It’s better than “Oh shit”, right?

To the father of the boy in the red shirt who nearly knocked over several small children in order to cut ahead of the line for the bouncy house,

Bravo. While it doesn’t surprise me that Mr. Lazy Carnival Worker gave a half-hearted get out and then let him keep bouncing, insuring that my TWO YEAR old and another little girl had to keep waiting, I’m quite impressed with your ability to condone your child’s completely obnoxious behavior. Or maybe you even taught him to behave that no one else in the world matters, in which case you must be feeling mighty proud about now.

I wonder if you’ll continue to feel proud as your child moves from cutting in line to beating up kindergarteners for their lunch money and then to date raping his prom date. Will you still be proud? Or do you think you’ll draw the line at some behaviors, thinking that after 12 years of letting him never think of anyone but himself he suddenly develop respect because you’ll tell him to?

Sure, he’s just a kid. All kids want to cut in line. WANTING to cut in line doesn’t mean he’ll turn out to be a bully or a sociopath, it’s you LETTING him do it that will. You’re teaching him it’s okay to disrespect other people and the rules because he feels like it. You’re teaching him that his wants are more important than anyone else’s. You’re teaching him that you don’t care how he treats other people.

Enjoy visiting him in jail,

Jerseygirl

PS My kids were AWESOME last night at the carnival. I’m sure you

didn’t notice how sweet and patient they were around kids like yours

or how brave my Ironflower was on all those new rides. They stayed up way past

their bedtimes and only had a few meltdowns – none of which affected other

people. Hah.

I watch Supernanny. Normally I smile and nod as Jo rescues families in far, far worse shape than mine. Sometimes I even learn a trick or two. But after watching last week’s episode (this afternoon) with Wendy Phillips (from Wilson Phillips of “Hold On” fame – guess it was easier than going on Dancing with the Stars) I have lost all respect for the Supernanny.

She had the family go out for a meal. The parents, the four year old boy, the three year old boy and the twin newborns (also boys, Goddess help that woman) and Jo settled into their seats at the restaurant. Jo had the parents go over expectations – fine. The older boys began playing with silverware and whatnot. Jo reminded the parents to do her “direct talking” trick to get them to behave appropriately.

Jo did NOT, however, remind them to bring some appropriate damn toys to the restaurant. The two preschoolers were given the choice of sitting still and silently or eating their food.

Still and quiet for thirty minutes? Are you kidding me?

I guarantee that the boys wouldn’t even have touched the silverware in the first place if Wendy knew to whip out a bag of restaurant only toys and books. If they had been engaged with Play-Doh and coloring books no one would have had to correct their damn behavior.

What kind of idiot expects children under five to be still and quiet when not hearing a story or watching Dora?

Uh, unless I should be expecting more sitting still and quiet from my kids? Am I the idiot? It’s been so long since developmental psych.

Dear Ironflower and Lovebug,

I love you two more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. You are beautiful, brilliant and funny.

But sometimes I want to send you to boarding school. I know that you are only three and not quite two, but just hear me out. Every time you have a baby-sitter (be it grandparents or family friend), I hear about what amazingly well-behaved children you are. Ironflower, your teacher says you NEVER whine at school. She was genuinely surprised when I picked you up yesterday and you started whining. And Lovebug, you NEVER do your screaming thing in public anymore. You only do it for me – you’re already up to four screaming fits this morning. And well, children, I’m getting kind of tired of the tantrums, whining, screaming and general defiance.

Sometimes I think I must be doing something wrong and that’s why all of your unpleasantness is saved for me. And that’s where I got the boarding school idea. At boarding school, you wouldn’t have to assert your independence – you’d already be independent! Isn’t that what you want? At boarding school you would be able to be your INCREDIBLE public selves ALL THE TIME.

And I would get to spend a day or two free from screaming, tantrums and defiance.

Because kiddos, I would probably only make it without you for about two days. And then I’d have to rush up to your boarding school for hugs. And there’s also the fact that you MIGHT have some separation anxiety without me for a couple of days. Especially at bedtime

So maybe the boarding school idea won’t work.

So I guess that means we’re going to have to improve your behavior right here at home. Got any ideas?

All my love,

Mommy