Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child January 30, 2010

While surfing through one of my favorite parenting websites yesterday, I came across this disturbing article.

#mce_temp_url#

Even though I snickered a couple of times at the grotesqueness of it all, I was abhorred at what this crazy bitch did to her son. I know grades are pretty important but they’re not everything. Used to be that good ones’ may get you a little cash, bad ones…detention or Saturday school.  But it seems to me there are worse things that your child can do besides goof off in class.

I’m not parent extraordinaire and I don’t claim to know everything about guiding children along the right path, but I do know that forcing your eight year old son to bludgeon his beloved pet to death with a hammer is not the answer. It’s more like the way an African dictator deals with a sticky-fingered diamond-mine-worker . That poor kid will never be able to look at a hamster the same way again.

This mother really took “Spare the rod, spoil the child” a little too close to heart.

Crazy bitch.

Well intended advice…and the liars who gave it! January 29, 2010

When I was pregnant with my first child, people came out of the woodworks giving me their well-intended advice and helpful encouragement.

“Put her on her back to sleep” – “Breastfeeding is best” –  “Don’t feel guilty about anything” – “You will forget the pain of childbirth once you hold that precious baby in your arms” –  “Just raise them with love!”

Just love? My ass! I tried that out once and that whole thing went to hell just about as soon as it began.  Love doesn’t get them back to sleep when they wake up hungry every half hour!  The best advice I ever got, “Never wake a sleeping baby.”

Another thing people liked to tell me was, “You will just know what to do with them.”  Well, I don’t recall ever identifying with those words with at 3:00 am,  crying to Matt that I just don’t know what to do with this inconsolable, screeching overgrown sperm before shoving her into his arms and running to hide underneath the comforter. Bless him for being there in my moments of despair.

The opposite of all that advice is closer to the truth.  Children come programmed with this sixth sense that they can just tell when mommy plans to be productive with her day, go to the bathroom, or just sit in solitude for five minutes. They smell it as soon as soon as you think it, as soon as they wake up!  It’s like waking up to the smell of coffee, only for babies. Those are the times that they are latched on to your leg and hip like a leech on a blood-filled water balloon. At any inclination of putting them down or leaving them for five minutes, the tears, shrieks, fangs, and talons come out. That’s when you think, “you know the public was really hard on Susan Smith.”

So here’s what all of these people should have been telling me.

-Your kids:

While you will love them more than life itself, you will never be so happy to get away from them.

They will make you cry more than any bump, bruise or breakup you’ve ever known.

They aren’t so cute if not fed or lacking sleep (you or them).

You will feel guilty for just about every decision you make for them.

You will worry about EVERYTHING, no matter how big or small.

You don’t get sick days as a parent.

You second guess everything you do, wondering if you are doing the right thing; knowing you are probably wrong.

Last but not least:

Nothing is better in the world than when your children wrap their little arms around you and say, “I love you Mommy!”

That makes all the other stuff worthwhile.

Don’t Eat the Children…

“I love kids.  They are short, highly emotional people who don’t know anything.  They rely on their imagination and creativity to get by in the world.  A world, I might add, filled with giants…amazing feat.”

I have never seen the movie “The Minute Man”, but the first time that I heard this quote, I felt like it was created by my children, just for me.  Sweet jesture, it was their way of explaining why they do the things they do. It made me more understanding and patient while they struggled to grow and learn each day.  Myself lovingly watching through my rose colored glasses.

Well… that lasted a whole two hours, those glasses shattered the moment I walked into Veronica’s room to find her along with the television, stuffed animals, and Barbies covered in anti-fungal cream.

Great.

“Mommy look! We have lotion!”

Not quite lotion, kid.

“Now you can have some too!”

Umm…No, thank you.

This is the life of me.

Hi, my name is Amanda. I am a stressed out, caffeine addicted, sleep deprived child wrangler. Or rustler, herder, immobilizer…depends on the day. Veronica and Hudson are the biggest joys and pains in the ass of my life and Matt is my loving fiance’ who leaves the house early in the morning using “work” as an excuse.

I love my life! Life, however, doesn’t always love me.  All the emotional highs and lows that every woman before, during, and after me experiences, I experience.  Sarcasm, tears, and martinis help me make it through these cycles of my life. Like my infant Hudson with eating, sleeping and pooping…sometimes all at the same time!

I dearly love my children but patience has never been one of my finest virtues; through them I am learning how to acquire more of it.  Often times,  I can be found on the floor next to the changing table, empty Chardonnay bottle lying on the floor, laughing only to keep from crying.  More than I have realized this laughter has helped me learn and grow into a better parent each day.

I invite you to learn, laugh, cry, and grow with me as I discover what lessons are found within these little gifts from God. Or sometimes more appropriately, demons substituted by the devil for my would be children at their births.