Have you ever stopped to ponder what things your kids will choose to download to their hard drive as their "Childhood Memories?" How does the body pick and choose which stuff will be selected, and then how exactly does it work with the whole "remembering it fondly like a kid instead of how bad it really sucked like the grown-ups do" phenomenon?
I often wonder, as my family and I muddle through our daily lives, which crap my kids will sit around and recall someday. I can just see them, sitting around the Thanksgiving table one day as adults, pondering all the things that mom did that screwed us up royally without her even realizing it!
Seriously, did you ever take the time to think about this? It's freakin scary, I tell ya! You know how you can recall certain parts of your childhood with great clarity, and other things that your siblings/family tell you have been completely erased? Aunt Mildred asks, "Do you remember how you used to come to my house and we would make lemonade from scratch and paint each other's nails?" But somehow all you can remember is that when you went to her house, you were scared out of your ever-lovin mind by the creepy painting of a clown that hung on the wall going up the steps that had eyes that seemed to follow you?
Yeah....someday, that's gonna be OUR KIDS doing that! So, which 2 1/2 second comment that we make to them, like "stop arguing before I lock you in the basement" will they choose to burn to memory? (I'm kidding, relax. Everyone knows there's too much stuff in the basement that they would find to play with....that could never serve as an appropriate punishment!)
As I sit and think about this, I think of all the little bitty crap that happens throughout the course of a typical summer day. During school, they aren't home as much, so there is less chance of the occurrence of permenently detremental memories. But, seriously, in the summer? Oy vey!
Especially this summer. They have argued and bickered so much (a new thing for them) that they are getting in trouble a lot! Knowing my luck, they will store yesterday's threat as their most prominent childhood memory of mom, even though it only happened once (so far, and there can be no promises here people).
It went something like this:
Me: You guys are arguing way too much. I can't take it anymore. I am so tired of constantly having to referee the two of you about ridiculous things, I absolutely refuse to do it today. I will NOT spend my entire summer doing this.
Kids: No words. Just innocent stares. Big eyeballs, batting eyelashes....They both immediately go into "Puss In Boots" mode when he tries to get Shrek to let him go along with he and Donkey on their whirlwind adventure.
Me: I'm serious guys. I can't do it anymore. I refuse. And I shouldn't have to. You guys are lucky to have siblings....so stop acting like animals and fighting. I swear, you would fight over a pile of dog poop in the yard!
Kids: I've lost them now. They are now both rolled onto their backs laughing, knees drawn to chest. It's over. I went too far with the dog poop scenario....though I swear that some days it's true.
Me: Here's the new policy. I will NOT spend the entire day saying the same thing over and over again. Therefore, you will get ONE warning when you start bickering. After that, there will be no more. Guess what the second warning is? Guess! It's a spanking. No more playing around. No more second chances. One warning, then POW!
Kids: Ha! Reeled them suckers back in now. They ain't thinkin about dog poop anymore!
I can hear the wheels turning in their little heads...."Is she really gonna spank us? Like, seriously? Totally? OMG..."
Me: Does everyone get it? Do you hear me? Are you picking up what I am putting down? Are you smelling what I'm cooking? (okay, I got carried away here. I may or may not have asked ALL of those questions...)
Kids: 'Uh huh.' Then the negotiations begin between the two of them. Secret handshakes, pinky swears, chest bumps, double pits to chesty...they were on a mission to syncronize their watches and make dang sure they were NOT going to incur any spankings today. No way, Jose..
Best Behavior?? CHECK!
Me: And, by the way, you'll both get a spanking. You are BOTH fighting with each other. You are both bickering endlessly with each other. It makes me not want to be around you. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day with two kids who fight over who almost touched who, who looked at who wrong, and who had the direct intention of touching the other's bedroom door knob? (even though, mind you, said bedroom inhabitant was IN said bedroom with the door closed, and to the best of my knowledge, does not have x-ray vision....however can still say, without a reasonable doubt, that a 'touching of my door knob, after the note on my door clearly says Do Not Disturb'....was about to occur)
Kids: Aye, aye, Captain. We got it. We can rock this out. Best Kids On Earth???? You got it!
And that is how our day began. I should have threatened them with public floggings a long time ago. Walking into Dierbergs, there was a flutter as we crossed the street. Something was amuck. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I felt a tingle in my ears. Was there a...could there be a .....was it possible that there could be..........................................................
the THOUGHT of a possible altercation right there in the crosswalk? Was I going to get my chance to make good on my promise right there in front of God and everybody?
Secretly I was really hoping NOT, because I genuinely have great kids. Neither of them ever need strict discipline, truly. This bickering thing is new for us this summer, and I can only assume that it is because 5 is nearly 6, and 10 is going into 5th grade and thinks her poo doesn't stink. Therefore, the age gap is narrowing and they are beginning to get on each other's nerves. My kids are truly amazing, they are well-behaved, respectful good kids. Which is why this entire epidemic has thrown me for a loop and caused me to be in need of counseling soon. I am not accustomed to feeling like I need to throw down on someone by Wednesday!
So, back to the crosswalk. I tightened my grip on 5's hand, peered at the two of them through my peripheral vision and clenched my teeth before squeeking out the following :
"This is your one warning. What comes next?"
5 let out a sigh of disdain. I could just hear his little inner voice saying "Damn. She didn't forget!"
'Spanking,' he replied, with as much umph as a helium balloon as it hits the floor after being popped.
"That's right," I said. "And it can happen right here in the store if you guys want. Now THAT would be embarassing, wouldn't it?"
That was the end of that. If there is one thing that can be said about our family discipline policy, it's that if we say we are going to do something, we do. We are not a household of empty threats. Which is part of the reason our kids are well-behaved. When they were very young, we didn't let them push us around. We didn't sit on the couch and repeatedly say "Don't do that....don't do that....don't do that...." Therefore, they know that if I say I will swat em one in the store, I will. Now, I've NEVER had to do this. My kids aren't THOOOOOOOSE kids.
Thankfully, we got through the store without incident. They were acting like MY kids again, hooray!!! Hallelooooyer!
We made it to the self-check out lane without bloodshed. We landed our cart and pressed the button on the screen to continue. And then it happened. It was so terrible that I felt the blood come up from my toes, travel past my knees, and like a bullet train it all entered my head and the steam began to build.....
OOOOOOOOO
MMMMMMMM
GGGGGGGGGGGG
WHAT is that terrible, God-awful noise?????????????
It sounded like a human fire engine. Or maybe a cat being skinned alive. Possibly a natural breech child birth...happening right there in aisle 4!
Dear Lord, what iiiiiiisssss that? And then it surfaced. What once was shrouded in mystery suddenly became clear. It was THAT kid. THE kid. The one that makes my tubes tie spontaneously without the need for a laproscopic procedure.
The rocket-ship shaped shopping cart came around the corner on two wheels. Unfortunately, it didn't topple over and create a scene that I could have appreciated. It was clear to me that mom either traveled with her own tube of petroleum jelly, or had stopped in the butter aisle and had greased these two kids up in order to squeeze them both into the cockpit of this rocket ship, as they had to be 6 and 7 years old. Their knees were up in the steering wheels, legs and arms touching each other....they were like little sardines in there.
At first glance, mom was an attractive lady. Then I saw that she obviously was mentally unstable, or perhaps hearing impaired. The noise that escaped her daughter's face made me want to dive off of the self check out stand and leap on top of her like Hulk Hogan coming off of the ropes in WWF. That little brat opened her mouth and that firetruck noise came out again. She was slapping her brother in the face, scratching him and just begging to be smacked upside her head. What was mom doing? NOTHING! They continued to call each other names, hit each other and throw things at each other, and somehow through it all that little hag continued to make that noise. The noise that made me want to shove a sock down to her aorta in order to stop it from ever escaping again. It was so loud that I swear I saw the bullet-proof glass in the front of the store flex. The shopping bags began to whip around like a tornado was coming through, and people's coupons were torn from their hands. She shrieked that noise continuously as people at the other end of the check-out lanes began to look over their shoulders. Dogs in the street stopped and put their paws over their ears. Old ladies with hearing aids turned them off....
Her mother continued to ignore her, her brother continued to push her buttons, and she herself continued to smack him with both hands in the face. And the noise remained.
I began to practice deep breathing techniques and when that didn't work, I actually contemplating just leaving the rest of my groceries in the cart and simply running out of the store. I fought back the temptation to walk right up to this woman and ask her what in the HELL could possibly make her think that this was appropriate parenting. I didn't, though. Somehow I mustered enough self-control to finish my transaction. Thankfully Satan and her brood left just moments before we did, and took with them the noise that bubbled up from Hell's bowels.
As the cashier offered my kids a sticker, I could tell she was drafting her letter of resignation in her head. I looked down at my kids as we pushed our cart through the double-doors to freedom and thought, "Damn, I have good kids!"
So, thank you, God, for giving me the near-death experience in the self-check out lane. Actually, it was more like a nearly-went-to-prison-for-beating-a-stranger's-child-experience....but nonetheless, it worked. I realized that even on their worst days, my kids are approximately 1000 times better than THAT girl. And that's something to be thankful for!
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