Cubby Time

"I had to sit in my cubby," she told me completely out of the blue.

"Yeah? What do you mean, you had to sit in your cubby?" I asked.

"I was naughty."

"When were you naughty? Today at school?"

"Uh huh. I had to sit in my cubby, at school," she informed me with the same lackadaisical attitude that started the conversation.

"Okay. Well. What did you do that was naughty?"

"I was carrying my chair around."

"You had to sit in your cubby cause you were carrying your chair around? Alice, I'm confused. Why where you carrying your chair around? What were you supposed to be doing?"

"Me and Forrest were carrying our chairs around on our back. I had to sit in my cubby and Forrest had to sit in Jude's cubby. Ricki was carrying her chair around too but Miss Sharon didn't see her so she didn't have to sit in her cubby."

I almost laughed at this part. Already, she senses the unfairness of life.

"Alice, why in the world were you carrying your chair around on your back?" I asked still trying to sort the story out.

"I dunno. I didn't want to clean up. It was funny. Forrest was doing it too."

When Alice told me this story last week I felt two completely different emotions, one was worry and the other was relief. Worry for Alice. She has a lot of strong willed, spirited, defiance in her and I think this initial cubby timeout is only the tip of the iceberg. I predict many incidents like this in her future, for it seems she's of the mindset that rules are made to be broken. While I felt worry, I couldn't help but feel relief. Finally I had the confirmation I needed. It wasn't just me. A little piece of me has always thought maybe her and I butt heads and this is the cause of her defiance. Maybe under someone else's leadership she would toe the line. Ha ha, not the case! It's her!

I was not surprised when we had this conversation in the car the following day.

"I didn't have to sit in my cubby today!" she told me with great exuberance.

"That's awesome Alice! I'm so proud of you! Great job following the rules."

"Oh, wait. I forgot. I did have to sit in my cubby a tiny bit."

"What for?"

"Hehehe...I don't even remember, Mama."

 

Before the questions begin, since the idea of sitting in her cubby seemed to confuse some family members. Their cubbies are not closets or lockers. They don't have to climb inside, there is no door. It's not cruel punishment and nothing like Harry Potter living in the closet under the stairs.

Time Out-Side

To be a good parent, my methods constantly have to evolve. As my darling daughter grows, I have to adapt to keep ahead of the madness. When I find myself shrieking obscenities, mostly in my head of course, it's time to reevaluate.

Last Friday was spent reevaluating. Alice was fresh off an I'm-sick-and-I-can-do-anything-I-want high. She walked around like she was queen of the castle and I was her lowly servant. Demanding tv at all times of the day. Eating when and what she felt like with no regard for the schedule. And the screaming. Ooh the screaming! Choice word being NO!! Not like a two year old who says it because it's novel and fun. Rather because I piss her off with my rules. How dare I try to control her and the things that go on in my house! Just who the hell do I think I am!

Traditional time outs weren't working. Removing privileges didn't bother her. I was forced to think outside the box on this one, outside the house maybe. In my head, I pondered the genius idea, my evil hands rubbing back and forth. I may have even cackled a time or two. My desperation had caused me to sink to a new low. I was going to use my knowledge of Alice's fear of bugs to my advantage. I don't think I've covered Alice's bug phobia yet, have I? She has an extremely grand, unwarranted, debilitating fear of bugs. It's so gargantuan it deserves it's own post. Soon, I promise. Anyway, I know that Alice hates being on the back porch by herself. You know, those man-eating flies. I've threatened before to stick her out back like I do with the dog when she's plucking my nerves. (I seem to compare my child to the dog a lot. Maybe I should reflect and get to the bottom of this.) The time had come to stop threatening and follow through. The next high pitch "NO!" she belted out and I was off. I took her by the arm, said nothing, put her on the back porch and shut the door. For a few glorious moments it was silent. When reality of her predicament settled in, the tears and the pleas to be let back inside started. She quickly waved the white flag, begging to be given a second chance, all the while looking back at the porch in fear of the imaginary bugs that were obviously coming to get her.

I had won. I wasn't proud of my below-the-belt tactics, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Eventually I hope she will want to be kind because it's the right thing to do, it's who we strive to be. Until that day comes, I'm okay with her choosing to be good to avoid consequences. And if I have to, I can ride the bug phobia for a very long time. Rest assured, dear Alice, juvenile detention center's are laden with insects.

I'm Not Judging, Really I'm Not

Dearest Mom of the 7 year old boy I nearly brawled with at the pool,

I want to take a moment and let you know your son was dropping it like it's hot, the f-bomb that it. I'm sure you're not aware of it, being the awesome mom you are. Obviosly, he didn't learn it at home since you would never use such profanity in front of him, rather from that pricey private school you send him to. I thought you ought to know what your money is buying you. For the reasonable price of 20K a year, your son has learned to curse like a sailor in front of 3 year olds. I've heard other mom's in your position use soap or hot sauce in the mouth to fix such problems.

I saw your dear, sweet boy run to you to tattle on me after I embarrassed him in front of all his friends. I'd like to express my apologies. Normally I'm not the type to meddle in other's parenting, but since you were preoccupied with your fourth cocktail of the morning, I thought I'd do you a favor and shut your kid up. I don't want my little girl exposed to such vulgarity at such a young age, and, really, when she learns it I'd like it to be from me.

I was going to confront you in person regarding this matter. But, just as I was about to, your little angel slipped from your sunscreen covered hand and cannonballed into the pool. You seemed to have your hands full trying to order him out of the pool, threatening time out. When you finally waded into the pool to fetch your delinquent, I figured it was best just to let you handle the matter you were currently dealing with. No need to overwhelm you before your fifth drink.

Again, my sincerest apologies,

Nelly

P.S.

I'm not judging you. If your child was my son, I'd likely be drunk before noon, too.




***I'm not condoning hot sauce or soap as behavior modification. But, hey, soap seemed to work for Ralphie's mom. I'm also not endorsing drinking before noon. Even though Mimosas are packed full of vitamin C. On second thought, maybe soap and pre-noon binging should be a case by case decision.

The Drive that Drove Me Mad

My husband and I grew up in the same town, about a 3 hour drive from where we currently live. A good percentage of both our families still live there. We visit often. We have the packing and driving with a child down to a science. Remember in grade school when you made the volcano with backing soda and vinegar and it exploded all over the kitchen? Yeah, that kind of science.

Since it was Easter we decided to head back home, visit our families and have an Easter egg hunt with my sister and her almost 2 year old daughter. Two days before we were set to leave I get a text from my sister.

Sis: Do you ignore a child in the car when they say mommy over and over again after you've already answered?

Me: Yes

Me: I tell Alice, it's nap time mama and papa will not be talking to you anymore. And that's it.

Sis: We obviously do not have the system down for traveling.

Me: With travel, we do our best to drive in the nap time range. And that's the goal. We talk to each other minimally, we listen to mellow music, we don't eat until she falls asleep.

Sis: I love your rules!!!



Let me just take a moment of silence to listen to the laughter singing out in my head.



As you have guessed, the car ride did not go as planned. It started out well. She was tired, had her lovey friend. The rules were being followed. About forty minutes in, I started to become concerned. I checked the rear view, she was yawning.

Okay. Good. She'll fall asleep soon and still get a 2 hour nap.

Thirty minutes passed by. Still awake. She was making sounds that I imagine very large frogs make. Not quite a ribbit, something more growly but still from the frog family. It was obvious, Alice was actively trying to keep herself awake.

New tactic, we switched the iPod to Jack Johnson. No offense to Jack, but his music seems to help her sleep. Twenty minutes later, still awake. At that point, I turned around and ever so slightly yelled to Alice.

"This is eenough!! You need to go to sleep! You are going to be so grumpy. If you don't take a nap you will have to go bed early and you will not get to play with your grandparents. Now hold Peter Pan, sit still, look out the window, and fall asleep!!"

That's sure to work, right? Nope. Half hour later she was still awake and kicking the passenger seat. Occasionally thrashing in her car seat as if she was possessed. Blurting out random screams, which I can only imagine were intended to wake her sleepy ass up. It was bad. I think I may have turned Rage Against the Machine on at a volume loud enough to drown her out. I had stopped looking in the rear view at her, it was only infuriating me to watch her eyes get progressively more tired as her body grew more and more crazy.

And the I nearly hit a motorcycle.

She was holding Peter Pan (who, by the way, is just a brown stuffed bear wearing a Santa hat and a red scarf) above her head, waving it all around. I couldn't properly see out of the mirror and I just barely missed the motorcycle when I changed lanes.

Aw yeah...it's smack down time!

I reached behind, ripped the bear from her hands, and threw it in my husbands lap.

"I will not tell you again to sit still and go to sleep! If you choose not to sleep and contine this crazy nonsense trying to stay awake, when the Easter egg hunt starts you will have a time out! And your cousin will hunt for eggs without you!"

The crazy nonsense continued. It was horrible. I wanted to scream. At one point we discussed, quietly to ourselves, the merits of drugging a child with Benadryl. I seem to remember saying out loud how I was going to enjoy watching her in timeout. The trip was not a shining moment in our little world. But we got through it and eventually arrived at my grandparent's house.

And when the eggs had been hidden and both girls were outside in their pretty dresses with their baskets, my sister said, "okay, go ahead. Hunt for eggs!" I rather calmly picked Alice up and plopped her in a garden chair to watch her little cousin gather eggs without her.

"You're in time out because you were being naughty in the car. You knew it was nap time and instead you were being crazy, kicking and screaming," I so calmly told her.

And she sat there. The rest of the family thought I was the wicked witch, but dear, sweet Alice didn't. She understood. Three minutes later she was up hunting for eggs and life was good again, for all of us.

I do believe next time we decide to take that trip things will go much more smoothly...I hope. Please.

Oh, and I did enjoy it, just a little bit of satisfaction.