Thursday, February 09, 2012

Do You Have A Pack-And-Play?

I am crazy excited.  And maybe I'll seem just plain crazy after I explain why, but I was told something yesterday that is going to change my life! 

I will tell you here that you will most likely not share in my excitement unless you too have a kid like Maximus.  Max is by far our quirkiest kid.  I will not even attempt here to try and explain just how quirky he is, but this kid has the power to make me laugh the hardest and the power to infuriate me beyond that of any other human being.  I do not know how a kid that knows so few words by the age of 33 months realizes it is hilarious when a kid of such short and silly stature farts and quickly shouts and points, "LOLA!?"  This same hilarious guy broke my window with his bare hands when he got mad a few weeks ago.  That being said, if you have a kid that freaks out when he's mad and you've attempted time out, you know that it is an absolute joke.  I've tried Supernanny-ing it.  (yeah, I made that a verb.)  Telling myself I'm in it for the long haul.  Attempting a two minute time out that actually lasts 45 minutes because the hellion can't stay seated for a solid two minutes.  When Max gets mad he hits things, throws things, screams at the top of his lungs and as a defense becomes straight as a board, every muscle clenched so that picking him up is nearly impossible.  Time out is a joke.

Realizing a goal the size of a two-year old booty was going no where, I threw out the time out chair for a big masking-taped frownie face in the middle of my kitchen.  As long as he was in the square, damnit, I was counting it.  One must, however, eventually mop the floor and wasting so much masking tape just started feeling... dumb.  Also, what happens when he starts experimenting with putting his little toe over the line, oh... there goes his leg... but his butt is still in the box!  Dumb idea.  And once again, this guy is a chunk... I got sick of hauling him back to the frownie face.

Finally yesterday the "Family Trainer" came to the house.  She.  Was.  Awesome.  One of the first questions she asked me was, "Do you have a pack-and-play?".  I immediately knew where she was going and in the distance an angel began singing or playing harp or whatever angels do.  "Yes!  Yes!" I shouted, as if to seal the deal with yet another person that I am just really socially awkward. 

Mommyhood seems to be an evolution of ideas.  When I had just Cooper I pretty much walked around with the idea that "I am the shit".  As you add more kids and more personalities and more.... emotions... quirks?... weirdness?... to your brood it simply gets harder.  The "I am the shit" feeling does not come about nearly as often as one's self esteem could dream of.  Ideas like using a pack-and-play for time out just don't always come easily.  It seems simple enough, but mayhaps my brain was on "What's the quickest least smelliest way to clean up guinea pig poop?" or "how little can I scour the bathroom today and still get by?" or "will my guest be able to smell all the dirty diapers in the house?" that day.  The amount of multi-tasking involved in raising kids is just effing overwhelming until you consider that sometimes it is an evolution of things getting a little better everyday as just one new idea is brought to the masses. 

Anyway.  The Family Trainer suggested a two and half minute time out away from everyone in a pack-and-play.  The time out only begins once Max is calm.  We have begun with the two behaviors hitting and screaming.  These behaviors get no warning... straight to time out for them.  "Now, this is going to be a very hard two weeks for you, but if you can do this you will see results." she said.  She said that over and over again.  I kept saying, "no problem!"  She would reiterate, "it's going to be really hard to ignore him, but you can do this!"  Finally, at the end of our meeting I reassured her (I think?) by saying, "I forgot to tell you that my oldest has Tourettes.  I sometimes wonder if my 3 year old has it as well.  He practically hums all day.  I don't want this to sound bad, but I uh.... have absolutely no problem ignoring them.  This is going to be just fine."  She gave me one of those awkward smiles that look like, "mmmm hmmmm.  okay."

So here we are.  Day two.  Things are going swimmingly.  All the fuss has been taken out of time out.  Hopefully when we reach our goal of two weeks we'll have a calmer, happier, good-kinda-quirky Max.

(Bam.  post 100 bitches.  Click muh clicker.)

Monday, February 06, 2012


I've actually had people ask me what won the Great Sugary Debate.  Since I don't want to go into all the different reasons I haven't blogged in awhile (really, my excuses are DOOZIES.  I'll go into some of them when thinking of them doesn't give me anxiety attacks.) I figured this was just as good a place as any to start.

Nothing won.

The end.


The minions decided they would rather have Sunday Sundaes.  I kinda figured on this one.  This was two weeks ago.  Everyone happily declined the ol' doughnut and gobbled up their dinner ice cream.  I was pleased that I didn't have to go in to Ingles for a $4.00 box of doughnuts and mysteriously walk out with a receipt for thirty bucks of odd things.  On the other hand, damnit, I like a chocolate iced chocolate doughnut on Sunday with my coffee and a newspaper.

So yesterday, Z had a problem with the whole thing.  He wanted a doughnut and ice cream too.  I secretly hoped he would somehow persuade the whole van into just doing doughnuts.  No go.  Screaming three year old.  ugh.  So how do we remedy this?  Why, by taking a Sunday drive all over the city our church is in and landing at Cracker Barrel.  Yup, FAIL.  The stupid $4.00 box of doughnuts became a $50.00 breakfast out.  (It was the grownups that couldn't say no to temptation).

Where I think we failed is that doughnuts or ice cream or both became an entitlement instead of a treat.  In the end, Sunday Sundaes just feel too weird.  See as how these kids are a bit like their Mama, the ice cream never quite cuts it anyway.  They always ask for a bit of whatever savory leftovers the Hubs and I have scavenged up.  I do believe we are looking at both the end of Sunday Sundaes and doughnuts every single week.  Chaos shall ensue.  The masses shall riot.  It's gonna be fun. 

Now aren't you glad you know all about that?
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