Sometimes I feel like I write blogs just so that in possible future therapy sessions with my children, if they claim shit went down a certain way that scarred them for life, I can pull up my website, go to a specific post, and say “NAH. THAT ISN’T HOW IT WENT DOWN, LIAR.”
Probably causing more issues, and even more need for future therapy sessions, but I digress.
It is 9:56 am on August 2nd, 2017, and other than the sound of my fingers slamming the crappy keys on my crappy laptop, and the whirring of my air conditioner blowing air through the vents as it kicks on and off repeatedly, as it can’t seem to regulate the temperature because it’s hotter than the underside of Satan’s tit outside, my house is silent.
School doesn’t start for over another month. My kids aren’t away at summer camp, nor are they at friends houses, and NO, I didn’t pretend to start a game of Hide & Go Seek and just never do the whole “Go Seek” part, though that is incredibly tempting. They’re here, in perfectly good health, of sound body and mind. Me? Not so much.
Even though they only have each other to play with most days (we are summer homebodies), and they play within very close range of one another (inches to feet), they feel the need to constantly say each other’s names when speaking. Everything they say starts with the other’s name. And I do mean EVERYTHING. I named them, yes. Which means I love their names, yes. But I didn’t expect to hear their names on repeat, in different shrill, whiny, and yelling tones 47 times in 15 minutes this morning as they fought, yet again, over trivial bullshit. I should have, considering they do this every single day, but something in my head this morning just went NOPE. NO MORE. I CAN’T. There’s only so much one person can take, and #47 of “Par-KERRRRRRRRRRRR!” was it for me.
I am weak. I accept this.
Desperate, and barren patience times call for desperate measures. I did something I wouldn’t usually do. Something I would never even consider, because it’s usually more of a punishment for myself than it is for the kids– because I KNOW that by doing this I am essentially dooming myself and kissing the scraps of patience I had left goodbye, but I knew if I didn’t take this decisive action immediately, I’d be taking the kids down to the Social Services office and changing their names to “Whiny McTurdBreath” and “Sassy VonButtFart”
I guess in a way, I was also saving the last shred of my human decency and maturity as well.
That’s right- I banned the kids from speaking to each other. In fact, I not only banned them, I told them that if they DARED to speak one more word to each other for the entire day, I’d take a dollar from their allowance bank per word. They know I mean business when I start messing with the money they’ve been saving to buy more Legos to embed into the bottoms of my feet. Seriously– that’s all they ever buy. They don’t dare risk the precious Lego money.
This left only me for them to speak to. A heavy burden I chose to bear to stop them from annoying the ever-loving shit out of me with their incessant petty arguments.
It’s now 7:06 p.m. and they have not spoken to each other all day.
Did we learn anything from this experiment of sorts? No. Will this change the boys’ behavior in the future? Probably not, let’s not be delusional. Did it make me feel any better moving forward? Not really.
We all have our breaking points, our hard limits, our points of no return. I certainly don’t feel bad about it, because I know I could feel a hell of a lot worse had I allowed it to continue beyond the line I’ve carved into the hardwood.
My only advice, the only thing to really take away from this is to recognize your moment and be okay with having a “shitty” parenting moment to reset yourself. Tell your kids they can’t speak to each other. Play Hide & Go Seek and maybe don’t “Go seek” for a little while. Hide in the closet if you have to. Then take a deep breath, and brace yourself, because you’re probably going to have to do it all over again, and hear about it later when your kids bring it up in therapy.
You wouldn't sniff a stranger's butt to see who pooped their pants.... so you probably shouldn't do these other parental things to strangers, either. holdinholden.com/2017/12/weir…
Weird Things you do for your kids but not Strangers goo.gl/fb/oVuwvG
Tis the season! pic.twitter.com/5VgMLnt22E
I am weak pic.twitter.com/LYdRQ6EZcC
You know that feeling when you don't chew a chip all the way and it cuts you all the way down and you swear it's gonna kill you, but you go ahead have another right after? That's what it's like when you decide to have another kid.