Tame the Beast.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin manipulate - vb: to negotiate, control or influence (something or someone) cleverly, skillfully, or deviously.

My kids are masters at building manipulation tactics that work brilliantly when dealing with me. As many of you know, I have the man-boy, who is turning 18 in a few weeks, and the baby girl, who is a three-year-old toddler dictator. Each kid has their own distinct personality traits, and manipulation styles. Both of which have proven very successful - much to my dismay most of the time!

My Son - The Charmer.  Man-boy has had the same consistent style of manipulation since he was little. He's smooth. He's gentle. He bats his eyes and gives a sheepish grin. And, he wins - every time. He knows exactly how to handle his mother.  For example, I'll be fuming mad at him for something he's done that I don't agree with - not taking out the trash, leaving food in the living room, staying out too late, not checking in when I expect him to, or not managing his money and then constantly bumming money off of me. I'll get myself totally worked up and ready to let him have it and then, all of a sudden, he gives me "the look." His big brown eyes start to widen and he tilts his head and says, "Mom... you are so beautiful. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful, beautiful mother and all of my friends think you are the best. It really makes me proud to be your son and I just thought I'd tell you that today."  Ugh. Whatcha gonna do? I find myself exhaling and all my anger just melts away. My response is usually, "Oh that is so sweet Man-Boy. How much money did you need for the movies tonight?"

Sucked in. Every time. He calls his tactic, "Taming the Beast," and actually that is pretty accurate. When the mama is beast-like, a little sweetness takes care of the problem every time and the mama's wallet magically opens. I instantly forget why I was mad in the first place.

My Daughter - The Dictator. Baby girl's style is completely opposite of her brother's style. She is a brute. She bull-dog's her way to get what she wants. She is extremely controlling and strong-willed. Baby girl doesn't mess around with the sweet-talking charms her brother utilizes. She demands what she wants and gains momentum the longer it takes for her to get it. I remember when she was a little over a year old and was waking up in the middle of the night wanting to be fed. Her pediatrician told me it was vital that I didn't continue to give her the feedings because she was old enough to start sleeping through the night. He said if I didn't stand my ground, she would develop bad habits. His words exactly were, "Mom. It's a battle of the wills. You just have to figure out who has the stronger will."

That answer was easy. She did! I would let her cry with the hopes she'd wear herself out and go back to sleep. But all that would happen was her momentum got stronger and stronger. She could cry for hours to the point of turning red and sweating because she was so pissed at me. Her adrenaline kicked in and I swear it was like Darth Vader took over. Finally, I would give in and do what she wanted to calm her down.

She still has the same strong will that she had as an infant. She wants what she wants and when she wants it.

Both kids have such distinct personalities - which are completely different from one another. I can see that my son will go through life as the charmer he has always been. Everyone loves him and he's always been very popular with his peers and the parents of his peers. He is compassionate and sweet. He's also always working an angle, but no one really knows it because he's so smooth. In other words, he gets what he wants but other people don't realize that he manipulated the situation to his benefit. I'm thinking sales or public relations will be a good route for his career path.

With baby girl, all I can say is, "Oh Lawdy! Good luck to any man who comes into her life!!!" He is certainly going to have to learn how to "tame the beast" when she gets her mind set on something. She is a born leader, for sure. I can envision her running a business or perhaps, ruling the world like a Power Puff girl. Whatever she does as an adult, she'll be in control of it as well as everyone around her.

Both kids have a little bit of me in them - the good, the bad, the ugly! But, at least in my world, I think it's just about perfect. At the very least, we certainly know how to deal with each other.

To Shelter or Not to Shelter?

From my observations, there are two main directions parents take when raising their kids. The first way seems to be the "shelter" approach and the second is the "not shelter" approach. Many times parents believe they must protect their child from any harm... from falling out of a tree (for God's sake don't let a kid climb a tree) and skinning their knee (kids shouldn't run anyways) to getting their feelings hurt in school (because life in general is so passive) or playing with the wrong crowd (because certainly they won't have to decide who is good and who is bad as adults.) 


 My philosophy is different. I'm more on the "not shelter" end of the spectrum, with a slight variation. Ever since baby girl was beginning to toddle around the house, I'd make a point to not gasp in fear as she stumbled. You know that sound, right? The sudden intake of air a parent does when their baby takes a face plant. If baby girl falls, I simply say, "Your okay... let's keep playing." She is now the toughest little chick on the playground at day care. Others will skin their knees and begin the melodramatic crying and sudden need to be held and coddled, while baby girl just gets up, brushes herself off and dredges forward to the swing set. She'll look at the cry babies as if they have three heads. Ain't nothin' but a thang! The truth of the matter is this: babies learn to walk by falling. Simple.  


That also plays a part in the development of a child later in life. If we shelter our children from everything in the world, then how will they know how to protect themselves and make the right decisions when they are on their own? Here's an example: I had a friend in high school who was very sheltered from everything. She wasn't allowed to listen to any music unless it was pre-approved by her parents. She wasn't allowed to date. She wasn't allowed to go to parties. She sat in her room at night watching the world go by through her window. Then she met me. I was in high school during the 80s and didn't have a cell phone, computer or internet. Instead, we just had fun. We went to the beach about five days a week, we went to parties, we hung out at the mall... we were free-spirited, happy teenagers. When I met my new friend, I put on my best "suck up to the parents" skills and soon won them over. Then, my friend was allowed to run around with me - on occasion - in my '67 VW Bug (affectionately named Moosehead after my favorite beer.) I taught her important skills such as how to sneak into an R-rated movie with a purse full of beer, and how to crash parties with your friends. We laughed until we cried and enjoyed being teenagers. After years of being sheltered, my friend had a hard time adjusting to being an adult once she moved out of her parent's home. This is when trouble can really begin for sheltered kids, because they are not prepared for what the world is really like. In other words, they don't fully develop their common sense - a vital component to self preservation. 


The variation to the "not shelter" component of my parenting style is that I always keep a quiet, watchful eye on my kids. Most times, they don't realize it, but I'm always alert and "on call" to swoop in and save the day - but only if I am needed. I don't expose my children to the harsh realities of the world because I want them to be kids. I've heard many parents talk to their children as if they are adults with subjects such as world war, death and destruction. DUDE! Those topics blow! I don't even want to hear about that crap as an adult so why the hell throw that on a kid? However, I do allow my kids to naturally learn about bad things during their day-to-day interactions in life. I believe this helps to develop their common sense and abilities to problem solve and cope. 


 So, with all of that being said, give your kids a break if you are an over protective parent. Let them spread their wings. Let them breath a little. Let them climb trees and skin their knees. If not, you might just end up with an anti-social, whiny little adult on your hands - and THAT my friend, ain't fun! Just sayin'!

Ruining my Kids... One Day at a Time.

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There are many moms out there that are perfect. I mean, perfect in every way. They are organized. They always look polished. Their SUVs are clean. Their houses are clean. Their kids go to bed at a set time every night - after having dinner at the exact time each evening. And, of course, the meals provided have been home-cooked and are planned in advance for the week. Meatloaf on Monday. Roast beef on Tuesday. Spaghetti on Wednesday. You get the picture.

I'm not one of those moms. I'm a complete disaster! As a matter of fact, I'm so opposite of the perfect moms that my kids are survivalists in the making.

I am so disorganized that I'm constantly hunting for shoes for baby girl. She has about 40 pairs of shoes (that's normal for a 3 year old, right?) but there always seems to be one missing when I have the perfect outfit for her. I buy her hair bows and bands but can never find them (actually, I think she hides them from me.)

My son is ready to get his driver's license, and I keep rescheduling it because I tell him I'm so swamped with work that "today isn't a good day." Truth is, I have no freakin' idea where I carefully filed his birth certificate and social security card. Dang... where did I put those? I know they are in a safe place somewhere... but where?

I'm never polished looking during the week. The only time I put on make up and fix my hair is if I have a client meeting. Typically I'm in sweat pants and a wife beater tank with big fuzzy house slippers while doing important professional phone conferences with clients. Many of the clients have asked me to get Skyp so we can video chat and I keep avoiding it because that'll mean I have to look presentable and God knows I don't want to deal with that nonsense! When I meet with a client for the first time, I look fabulous. Skirt, heels, blouse, matching briefcase, hair perfect and make up on. But, after the meeting, if I like the client and decide to work with them I make it clear that this will be the only time they see me dressed up (totally feel like I'm in drag!) and to expect jeans with holes in them, a t-shirt and UGG boots next time. Like it or leave it. I'm too old to care about impressing. They should be impressed with the amazing work I produce and not fancy clothes and make up, right?


When it comes to keeping my SUV clean and organized, I get a big FAIL on that. It's filled with mail that I pick up and ignore (only interested in the checks that arrive - the rest of the mail sucks), cheerios and sippy cups that have rolled under the seats that I find days later only because my car starts to smell. Typically, baby girl will begin the stripping process in the car on the way home from daycare and the first thing she takes off are her shoes (hmm... need to check the car for some missing shoes) so there are about 10 pairs in there. The only time I "muck out" the car is if I know I am picking up someone that matters - like an adult (and sometimes I don't even do it then.)

I am a hoarder when it comes to storing food. I think this is because I lived on a farm for so many years that was far away from any grocery stores. Therefore, when I'd do the 38-mile-round-trip to the store, I'd make sure I bought enough food so that I wouldn't have to go back any time soon. But, when I buy all this wonderful food and put it away, most times I forget to cook it! I'll have the most beautiful pot roast, chicken breasts and steaks in the freezer that will go bad because I never remember to take them out and thaw to cook for an evening meal.  I end up with meat that is freezer-burned, but lots of quick, fix it meals that are eaten instead.

How do these perfect moms do it? I can't even remember to take my house key with me 80% of the time and end up having to climb in a window in the middle of the day to get back into my house! The neighbors think I'm crazy - I'm sure - when they see this 44-year-old mother of two hiking herself up on a ledge and flipping in the house face first. I've gotten so many bruises from doing this, I look like a roller derby skater.

My kids think I'm crazy, especially my teenage son. He sends me text messages that say, "MOM... don't forget to cook dinner tonight" or "MOM... don't forget to pick me up from school today." Yes... it's true. I have forgotten him a couple of times. Oops... sorry son. Mommy loves you!

But, at the end of the day, after I've taken kids to school at the crack of dawn, worked like a maniac all day, and picked up the kids from school, they know I love them. We laugh in the car together talking about our day. We sing to music together while driving and tell jokes. I may be a disorganized mom, but I'm a loving mom. I'm there for them emotionally and they are secure.

So, kudos to you perfect moms out there. And, word up to you non-perfect moms! I guess we just have to do it our way and make it work for our kids. All is good in the world when that happens.

PS: I just went into the play room to check on baby girl and found her covered in my $100 mineral powder makeup. She had spread it out on the coffee table and was taking her hands and smearing it everywhere. Nice! I don't wear it anyways, so whatcha gonna do!

Whatever Potato!

One thing I've learned the hard way is try my best to not curse in front of baby girl. I knew I was in the clear the first couple of years so I'd drop the f-bomb freely, without a care in the world. Until suddenly she began dropping f-bombs at three. Holy crap! All I could think was, "What have I done? What if she says this in public or at day care or even worse... gasp...at my mother's house!" The fear of the f-bomb coming out of my sweet little girl's mouth haunted me day and night. Not really because I loath the f-bomb... I actually love it. However, the fear of other people hearing my daughter say it was terrifying because they'd think I was total white trash.

The first time she dropped the f-bomb was at her father's house. He looked at me with that, "Oh I KNOW where she heard that word," look and I just acted so surprised. I said instantly, "She must have learned that in daycare!" His reply was, "Oh I'm sure the Christian Day Care teachers use that language all the time."

Ugh. I didn't make a big deal of it because I have always heard that if you ignore something and don't give a lot of attention to it, they'll get bored of the bad word and forget it. That process took about four months until finally she stopped saying it.

Now, she's come up with her own version of a curse word - potato. Yes it's true. Potato is the new douche bag. 

She'll get mad at her brother and say, "Iyam maaad at you. You a bad potato." It happens daily. Or she'll whisper it under her breath when I ask her to do something she doesn't want to do. She'll say, "Whatever potato," in a disgusted tone. 

The other day one of my son's friends spent the night and baby girl was in a potato/douche bag name calling kind of a mood. She was dropping the P-bomb like a three-year-old sailor! My son's friend finally looked at me and said, "Should we allow her to use such language?" and I couldn't help but crack up. What am I going to do? I KNOW what she means by saying it, however it's the word potato! If she drops a P-bomb at school I'm totally in the clear because they won't know what it means. They'll just think this kid loves her french fries, right? 

So go ahead baby girl... P-bomb away! 

Home made tea from baby girl.

The other day, baby girl and I were playing "tea" at home. She would go behind her kitchen set and work for a bit before bringing me an empty cup to sip along with her. This went on for quite a while. I was trying to stay focused, but just like any mom who still believes she's a 20-year-old, I was also on the iPad playing with Facebook at the same time. This is where everything went wrong.

I started to realize that she wasn't bringing me empty tea cups anymore. They were actually filled with cold water that I had been faithfully drinking each time she brought one over to me. "Oh baby girl... that is so delicious" I found myself saying to her.

Now, I was curious. And, a bit concerned. I watched her as she went behind her little kitchen set. All I could see were her blond curly locks of hair and the top of her head as she worked feverishly to make a new cup of tea. "Okay. Seriously. Where's that water coming from?" I thought to myself.

I went to investigate. To my dismay and surprise, I realized how she was filling her cups! She was taking her sippy cup, which was filled with ice water, and then filling her mouth with the water before spitting it into the cup! It would take about four spits to fill the tea cup that she then would bring it to me to drink. Yummy!

At the end of the tea party, I had consumed about four cupfuls of baby spit. These cups of home made tea were 100% backwash in it's finest form.

What lesson did I learn? Stay off of Facebook when you are consuming something prepared by a three-year-old. This mom needs to stay alert at all time. Baby girl is one innovative little party host!

My eyeball has been violated.

Baby girl has been going through a very affectionate stage recently. She loves to snuggle (for a moment and then she's off) and to nuzzle (be careful... she might snipe you with a bite) and give kisses on the face (you could get licked instead.) She takes great pride in puckering her lips, which actually looks like a fish as she sucks in her cheeks to push out her lips.

A few days ago, she got the fish pucker going on her face so I knew a big kiss was coming. She took her sweet little three-year-old hands to my face and positioned herself to plant a kiss on my mouth. I braced myself for a big baby saliva kiss when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, she pulled me close and took a detour to my eyes and licked my eyeball. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to react. When I say, licked my eyeball I really mean licked my eyeball. Not my eyelid. Not my crow's feet. Not my eyebrow. Oh, those areas would have been wonderful in comparison. What I mean, is literally the eyeball was licked with so much saliva for a brief moment I thought I had blacked out and went swimming with my eyes open!

As I was desperately blotting my eye and adjusting my vision (for a moment I thought she had swiped out my contact lens for a snack) she looked at me and said, "I love you mommy." My heart melted.

I guess the lesson learned is to either be quicker on my feet and divert the kisses to a more appropriate position on the face, or just take one for the team and realize it's her twisted little three-year-old way of giving me affection. I'll take either option.