When and Where?

I looked over at the couch and saw my oldest daughter working on her math paper. Then I realized I was looking at my youngest.

When did her legs get that long? When did her pudgy baby hands stop being pudgy? When did she stop moving like a little kid? When did she start looking like a big kid?

Where is my baby? Where did all that time go? Where did the tears in my eyes come from? Where did I put that box of tissues?

Spank My Kids? Why Should I?

When I first became a parent the biggest question I asked myself about spanking my children was, why should I? Perhaps you have an answer but it better not be because Jesus said so. I’m not buying that load of crap. The bible says you shouldn’t eat shellfish but I’ve seen you at the Red Lobster praying over your dinner. You’re not fooling me.

When my oldest was about two someone asked me if I spanked her. I was hurt and offended by the question. Why would anyone think I’d do that?

“I’m intelligent enough to manage a two-year-old without beating her into submission” I snapped back. Looking around I saw the faces of other parents. Some with children older than mine, some with grown children and I saw guilt and regret in their eyes. It reinforced my views even more.

The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Children do not stay children forever. How do you explain to your twenty-year-old that they were so bad you had no choice other than hurting them to make them behave? How can you justify teaching your children that they deserve to be hurt when they make a mistake? If you should never hit your kids when you’re angry, what kind of person hits their kids when they have a clear calm mind? How will you feel when your kids are hitting your grandchildren because that’s the only thing they know to do?

The fact of the matter is you do not have to hit your children. Some parents say you should spank young children if they try to run into the street or are doing something dangerous. I found that my panicked scream and firmly explaining the danger worked just fine. It was my job to watch them anyway. They were too young for that responsibility.

Some parents say spanking children makes them more responsible. I disagree strongly. Spanking removes any personal responsibility. You were wrong, you’ve been punished, go play. Instead try, you were wrong, go make it better, go play. Having them fix their mistakes builds responsibility. Spanking gives them an easy out.

But what about when kids are out of control and won’t behave at all? The few times that happened to me have been when I’ve expected too much from my children. If you mess with their naps, food, or comfort levels they go ballistic. They’re not adults. If it’s obvious they are tired, hungry, and over-stimulated don’t drag them to another store so you can get those new shoes on sale. Call it a day and take them home. Next time be more considerate of their needs and plan your day better. Yes, it will probably piss you off but you’ll get over it. You’re an adult. In a few years you’ll be the one whining to go home while your pre-teen tries on just one more shirt.

So far, I’ve managed to get through every single problem some parents say justify a spanking without spanking my children. It wasn’t easy and there were times I seriously questioned my decision. There were times I was so frustrated and angry that I almost hit them when I didn’t want to. But, I didn’t and I won’t. I don’t think I could say that now if I hadn’t made a firm decision from the start about not spanking.

I hope that one day all parents will take the time make that decision. I hope that all parents make that decision with a newborn in their arms, when the choice is obvious and not wait until their two-year-old spits peas in their face. It makes it a lot easier to make the right choice.

You can add your opinion or read other opinions on Spank Out Day and/or The National Day of Prayer at the Thinking Homeschoolers Project.

I’m Doing Alright

[Note: Something from the unpublished archives. I'm not sure when I wrote this but I'm guessing it was about a year ago because I was playing with a Shrek toy and Shrek the Third came out last May.]

“You aren’t much older than yur kids are yah?”

I looked up so see who said it and my eyes settled on the lumpy figure of an older man. He was sitting by the window near the drink fountain. The way he slurred his words and the splash of mustard down the front of his shirt made me think he wasn’t exactly sober. The TV show I’d watched about a serial killer that rode the railroad came to mind. We were near a railroad. I sized him up and decided he was most likely harmless.

“I’ll let you think it if you want.” I told him and smiled. We went to order our meals.

The memories of my days as the youngest mom on the playground came back to me. Moms my age were at work. The older moms (my age now) would quote childcare books and recite their parenting philosophies while I played with my kids. I always wanted to join them, but they would make me feel bad because I didn’t know to mix juice with water, or I refused to sit my kids in front of videos designed to increase their IQ. Dora and Bob were good enough for me. I had returned all the parenting books I was given, except the medical reference, and bought Dr. Seuss. At first I felt like a failure. For quite a while I was sure my kids would be totally screwed up. Then I became silently arrogant. I had thoughts like - Yeah, my kids aren’t fat, I don’t have to mix their juice with water. If my kids were as dim witted as that one, I’d be worrying about increasing their IQ as well. My kids are fine just the way they are. I started going to the playground in the evening when the fun moms and dads were there. The ones that laughed instead of shook their heads when I tripped while pushing the merry-go-round and went tumbling across the mulch.

I made myself stop thinking about that. That train of thought was not worth riding. Just in case the serial killer thing had some merit, I made sure we sat on the other side of the room. He left shortly after that but I didn’t see him leave.

I was too busy shooting trivia cards out of the head of a Shrek figurine. I was wiping ketchup off the face of my youngest. I was giving my daughter the mom face because she was slurping her drink on purpose, and I was resisting the urge to slurp mine back.

That drunk serial killer might not think I’m much older than my kids, but I’m doing alright I thought as I wiped the drip of ketchup off the front of my shirt. I’m doing alright.

I Didn’t Think She Remembered

When my youngest was about two and a half the Easter Bunny brought her a chocolate bunny that was filled with marshmallow cream. Instead of eating it like a normal child, she named the thing and carried it around with her. She made it nest out of plastic grass and fed it jelly beans. It was her new pet.

Back then we had a black couch. For some reason only she knows she put her bunny in the spot where I sit. Yes, I ended up sitting on her bunny. I didn’t know I had sat on it. Marshmallow cream is like glue and I have no idea how long I walked around with a mushed rabbit stuck to my rear-end. I would have remained oblivious the marshmallowy goodness attached to my ass if it weren’t for the panicked cried of “Mommy! My bunny! You killed my bunny!”

Needless to say she was traumatized. I felt really bad but I figured she was two, she’d forget all about it. I was wrong.

For some reason only she knows she left her turtle Webkin in my seat and I sat on it. Thankfully there was no permanent damage. It’s a stuffed animal. But then, out of nowhere, she brought up the chocolate bunny thing.

Now I’m really worried. I kinda thought the first three or four years were freebies. Yah know, they wouldn’t remember anything so if you messed up really bad you could just lie about it. Maybe seeing your chocolate Easter bunny smushed on your mothers’ backside is something a kid never forgets. I hope this is just a weird freak memory thing. Otherwise, I am so screwed.

Books From the Library

When I was in grade school we didn’t have a school library but we would walk to the public library once a week and check out books. One day I wanted to get a book about Helen Keller from the young-adult section. The teacher told me I couldn’t because it was too hard for me to read. The librarian, a wonderful woman I love to this day, told her she should let me, but the teacher wouldn’t. She got me a book about Helen Keller from the kids’ section. She didn’t want me to be discouraged.

When I got home I showed my mom the books I had gotten and told her I wanted the big book but the teacher had said it was too hard for me. She stopped in the middle of cooking dinner and drove me back to the library.

I tried reading the book but it was too hard for me. I don’t remember being traumatized by this. I just read bits and pieces and returned it to the library when it was due.

I’m really glad my mom did that. I learned a lot more than the story of Helen Keller that day. I think that has influenced my decision to allow my children to check out any book that they want when I take them to the library. I’ve always enjoyed seeing what catches their interest from week to week.

This week I was in for a bit of a surprise. My oldest came walking out of the book stacks with this book. The Complete Idiots Guide to Caring for Aging Parents. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or thankful that she cares. I think I’ll go with thankful.

Five Things That Prove I’m Crazy(ier Than You Thought)

1. After my husband leaves for work I scoot over to his side of bed, because it smells like him. Then I snuggle up with his pillow and pretend we just made love.

2. I spontaneously burst into song at weird moments. I’m not a good singer. I don’t care. Last night I finished the dishes then stood in the doorway and sang a verse of Dixie Land. MyHusband and the girls giggle and ignore me. Next time I’ll sing it with a French Accent. (Listen to it. It’s worth it)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1wAnyWvjZo&hl=en]

3. I can’t go to sleep unless the closet door is closed.

4. I sort M&M’s by color then arrange them into triangles. I can make as many triangles as I want but each row has to be all the same color. Then I eat each side until I’m down to one. I suck on the last one until it melts.

5. When strangers stand too close to me in a line I fantasize about farting on them. One time I did and then I made a funny face and pretended he did it. Everyone completely fell for it.

So, anyone brave enough to tell me about some of your craziness? I’m in the mood for crazy tonight.

Why I Don’t Play Pool

At this point in my life I have come to conclusion that not only do I not know how to play pool, I should never try and learn. I believe if you did a detailed astrological chart of my birth there would in fact be a pool cue with a circle around it and inside that, across the center, would be a big red line. I am almost certain of this and there have been many instances throughout my life to reinforce this belief. I’ll list them:

1. At about the age of eight I was playing pool at my dad’s friend’s house. He was a loud crotchety old man with a foul mouth. Even though my dad told me he was harmless, I was kinda afraid of him. His grandson was there and at some point he yelled that if we ripped the felt on the table he was going to beat our asses. I decided it was in my best interest to find other ways to entertain myself.
2. In my early teens, a friend and I decided to cross the invisible line in a popular restaurant and enter the poolroom on the right instead of the seating area on the left. It was full of some weird, cross-pollinated group of bikers and rednecks. We walked over to an empty table and put in our quarters. The pool balls didn’t come out. My friend said something about it and a big drunk guy with a bandana and leather jacket told us, “It means if you can’t roll with the big boys you should just roll” We rolled extra quick over to the kiddies section and ate our onion rings. To this day, I have never gone back.
3. Fast forward to age 18 and you’ll find me in a sports bar in Norfolk. The guy I was dating decided to teach me how to play pool. Except for the fact I was drunk and he was determined to teach me how to play, things may have gone alright. He didn’t appreciate my carefree approach and I wasn’t appreciating him barking orders at me as he stood behind me trying to push me around. My somewhat butch lesbian roommate gave him this look that scared the hell out me, then she told him to back off. He ignored her until her brother (my informally adopted big brother) said the same thing. I decided a game of drunken darts was more my thing. He decided it was time to leave.
4. Unable to see the futility in attempting to learn the game of pool, I found myself a few months later in a club in Virginia Beach. I had gone with a former roommate, who interesting enough was also a lesbian. There were some bands playing and I was…uhhh…high on life and somehow ended up in the poolroom. Things were going great this time. She was teaching me how to play pool and I was working on some free drinks when a guy asked if he could join us. We agreed and before we knew what was happening he was getting angry because she was better at pool than he was. She tried to lose but he figured that out and got angrier. Once he started talking about his counselor we decided it was time to leave. She asked some big drunk guy wearing a bandana (but no leather jacket) to keep him there and we hit the door running. We didn’t stop until we made it back home. I didn’t sleep too well that night and it wasn’t because my roommate and former roommate were …umm… hitting it off in the living room.
5. A few years ago we rented a house and there was a pool table downstairs. MyHusband offered to teach me how to play and I was having a really good time. Then the girls decided they wanted to play. I was standing there watching him teach my daughter how to hold the pool cue and thinking he was so amazing and wonderful with the kids when something crashed into the right side of my head. My other daughter had decided to try on her own and I was in the direct line of fire. It seemed to knock some sense into me. That was the point I realized that pool was not my game.

These are five good reasons for me to never attempt to play pool again. I have no desire to work on a sixth reason. Yet, something tells me I will. I’ve always wanted to play pool.

Next post: How my potatoes came in the mail ;)

Protected: First Statement

I believe that children give us clues to their personality even before they are born. Some babies are active others are more still. Some are born screaming and others are quiet. My oldest, once she finally decided to start breathing, started screaming. That lasted until, well she’s still loud. My youngest is a bit more subtle with her emotions but she has always managed to express herself in her own way. This picture was taken just a few hours after she was born. I think she let us all know exactly what she was thinking.

So, What’s Up With You?

Where have I been? Mostly lazy and bored. I did manage a trip to Bryce Mountain so we could throw ourselves down a mountain redneck style. It was fun.

It got really cold when the sun went down.

That was more fun. The snow turned to ice and the lanes were fast.

Then we watched the space station go overhead. I don’t have a picture of that. Just imagine a bright star that moves kinda fast.

Besides that, nothing going on here. Unless you want to hear about growing paramecium. Something tells me you don’t. I’m planning to spice things up this afternoon with a trip to the library. I hope I don’t over do it. Hope things are less boring for you.

I Got Pucked. Twice.

Not too long after I met MyHusband he stopped by my desk to tell me he was going home for the night. Then he asked me if I wanted the rest of his M&Ms. I told him goodnight and thank you, and wondered why his friend was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Later that night I poured a handful of M&Ms out of the bag and turned to the girl that worked with me. “Look! They are all green. What’s the chance of that?”

I poured some for her and they were all green as well. We ripped open the bag and all of them were green. She started laughing loud enough to draw a crowd and people started coming in and laughing at my bag of M&Ms. I was clueless. Eventually someone realized that I was actually clueless and not pretending to be clueless. She explained that green M&Ms were supposed to be an aphrodisiac. I was both thrilled and surprised.

Not too long after that we were going on a date to a hockey game. We were leaving from work. Before we left one of the girls insisted that I have some of her M&Ms and poured them into my hand. A piece of paper fell out.

“These are the new fortune M&Ms,” She said.

I knew I was once again the victim of an M&M related joke but I had no choice. I opened up the piece of paper and read my fortune.

She who go to hockey game get pucked.

I laughed and plotted my revenge.

I came in the next day fully prepared for the questions and jokes. I was not disappointed.

“All I’m saying is I had a great time and my fortune came true” I told them as I grabbed a hockey puck out of my coat pocket and held it up for everyone to see.

Everyone started to laugh. Then I grabbed another one out of my other pocket. “Twice.” One guy laughed so hard he fell out of chair. I just stood there pretending to be clueless.

That’s why when I saw the bag of all green M&Ms I had to buy them for MyHusband. I had planned on leaving them buy his chair when he got home from work. I hadn’t planned on finding this on the table when I got up this morning.

I don’t care what anyone says. That there is romance!