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discipline
Posts

  • Taking “No” For an Answer

    I do not take “no” for an answer. If I am trying to get a something done and people say “no” to me – I try a variety of different avenues. I keep insisting, literally and figuratively, until they say yes. It has been my common practice to push a “no” as much as I can until I get the answer I am looking for. GOOD THING I AM NOT A GUY!

    I think this tenacious way of being is rooted in the fact that once I set my mind to something, I want to see it through. When I have an idea, I believe in it fully and will pursue every angle possible to make my vision a reality – even if it is obtuse. If I took every “no” at face value, I wouldn’t be where I am today… alone, at my computer, wearing socks for gloves, and writing to you.

    There is also a cultural aspect at play. I have Hungarian blood, and they are very pushy people. The Hungarian way is to offer something 7 or 8 times before accepting a “no.” Even when I am trying to be polite, I will NEVER accept the first “no.” Let’s say if I offered you a piece of gum and you responded “no thank you.” I would then say “are you sure?” and you would be like, “yes I am,” then I would be all “not even to keep for later?” and then would be like “yeah I am fine,” and then I will be all “just take one for your pocket – you will want it at some point,” at which point you will acquiesce just so I stop asking. IT IS THE HUNGARIAN WAY!

    I have a very fluid understanding of what “no” means. I don’t think it is a definitive answer – I just think it means you have to work harder for a yes. HOLY CRAP I AM SO GLAD I AM A GIRL.

    Ready for the irony!!?? MY KID NEVER ACCEPTS NO FOR AN ANSWER EITHER!!? Of course I totally expect her to, and remain painful sour when she defies me. When you have a child, you want them to do everything you say not because it is best for the personality, but because it is easiest for you. The kid I want is not necessarily the adult I want Munch to be. I like the part of me that is persistent. I respect that quality in myself because it means I am dedicated. Yet it is driving me bat shit crazy in my kid.

    Ultimately, I don’t want my daughter to be a push over who fears challenging people. Those who avoid dissent end up being complicit to injustices they know may be wrong, but don’t know how to confront because they lack the confidence o stand up for what they believe in. I am not an advocate in ultimate authority. When you don’t question what you are told, you may easily become an unconscious follower – disconnected from your own value system.

    I think there is great danger in forcing people to do as they are told, which is articulated time and time again in a variety of arenas. Think of war torn areas where soldiers kill innocent civilians because of protocol. Or within the prison system where correctional officers all but torture inmates because they are following the status quo of prevailing dynamics. Obeying orders is not necessarily the right thing to do. People are easily corrupted by power, and one should never blindly trust commands.

    I want The Munch to mentally dissect what she is told, and make sure her actions are aligned with her moral compass… but when she is older. Can’t she just do every thing I fucking say for now?

    no-for-an-answer-blog-(i)

  • Enter into MY reality Bitch!

    When someone is an asshole to me, my initial reaction is usually “Wow you really suck salty scrotums. I hope you choke on sperm chunks so hard it comes out your nose, dribbles down your face and back into your mouth.” It’s easy to assume that rude conduct is indicative of a rude human. It can be challenging to distinguish between the behavior and the person when someone is energetically, metaphorically, or physically crapping in your mouth. Yet just because someone is acting like a dick doesn’t mean they are one.

    Dealing with humans can still be exhausting! At any given moment we might be contrarian, mildly antagonistic, or moderately unreasonable. When I can’t relate to the person I’m with, all I want is to shake them like a British nanny until they are living in my reality. What is wrong with you and your crazy fucking thoughts!!?

    I had an epiphany the other day about relationships. I was listening to this podcast about people with Alzheimer’s and how to best relate to them. The prevailing thinking has been when Grandma makes statements inconsistent with “reality,” she should be corrected. “Grandma, this is your home now”, or “That is your grandson,” or “don’t eat that- it’s a book.” Yet now research suggests instead of talking Alzheimer’s patients out of their reality, we should enter into it. If Grandma says she sees monkeys out the window, we should tell her her how much we hope they come inside and run around. In other words, embrace her reality.

    Profound, right? Even more so when considering how this approach is is applicable to all people. We all construct narratives in our heads to make sense our realities and when people challenge them, we often go on the defensive. NO MAN, STOP TELLING ME YOUR REALITY. THIS IS MY REALITY!! Instead of projecting our realities onto others, why not embrace theirs?

    When I have an issue with someone, I usually focus on how they make me feel. What if I turned that around and deeply considered how the other person feels? I tried this with The Munch recently to see if it might an effective strategy when she is being a total fuckface… I mean faintly challenging.

    We were getting ready in the morning and I told her we had to go to her hippy doctor so she could get her wandering eye poked at with crystals and sage or whatever.

    Munch: I don’t want to go today. I just want to go to Debbie’s house.
    Toni: But I made the appointment already. It’s too late to cancel so we are going.

    We went downstairs to eat breakfast and The Munch’s mood turned to shit. She was cranky, yelling, and eventually threw her shoe in the sink while I was doing dishes. I wanted to throw my shoe at her damn face at after that, but instead I tried to enter her reality instead.

    Toni: Munch, what is going on with you? Is something wrong? I think you know better than to throw your shoe. Can you tell me what is going on?
    Munch: I really don’t want to go to the doctor today. Sometimes it hurts and I don’t want to get my eye adjusted. I just want to go to Debbie’s house.

    I can work with that. In all fairness, she had made a request that I didn’t listen to, so she was upset. I can understand why it is hard for her to have to go to the doctor and get prodded and she didn’t want to deal. It’s not like I am going to acquiesce to her every time she doesn’t want to do something, but I felt compassion for her in that moment.

    I went to Munch’s hippy doctor instead and it was AWESOME! She fixed my ankle that had been hurting for months. WIN for ME!

    Poor Munchee and her eyepatch

     

    reality-blog-(i)

  • Does Always Wanting More Make you An Addict?

    The problem with good things is that they leave us wanting more. If I have a bite of delicious cake … I want more. I have some good sex…I want more. I try some amazing pure Columbian cocaine…I want more. The nature of pleasure is to desire more, more, and more of it.

    Part of being an adult is learning to moderate the seduction of indulgence. We are expected to find balance because we have the foresight to understand that too much of a good thing is actually bad. Too much food destroys your heath. Too much sex gives you bumpy rashes. Too much drugs can kill you. Understanding boundaries is part of growing up. The alternative is to end up an addict.

    The thing with kids is they don’t get it. They have no concept of time, so rationalizing the limitation of a certain behavior because of future consequences is futile. I can tell my kid “Look, if you eat all that chocolate you are going to feel sick and shit your brains out later.” Her response will always be “I don’t care.”  It is up to me to moderate her intake, because left to her own devices The Munch just doesn’t give a fuck.

    I’ve tried letting The Munch totally indulge, so she could do a little soul searching on this subject. The prevailing logic was that she would realize for herself the results of excessive behavior, and consider the impact the next time she is faced with temptation. Yeah. No. That really didn’t work. Saying to my four year old “Remember last time when you ate too much ice cream and felt really sick,” only resulted in yet another “I don’t care.”  Whatever memory of the ice cream tummy ache from the past held no power over the delicious taste of ice cream in the present. I guess The Munch is very Buddhist because she only exists in “the now,” but the awareness of past or future effects is a pivotal part of learning restraint.

    The Munch is relentless in her quest for more of everything. She is never satisfied and this is annoying as fuck. She will make a promise like “Mom, let me watch something. I will only watch one episode of My Little Pony I promise. Then you can turn it off and I won’t fuss.” So I let her because I trust her* (*want to get away from her) but when her stupid neon colored show is over, The Munch immediately says, “okay just one more. I PROMISE!”

    While I admire The Munch’s commitment to negotiation, everything becomes a battle because of her inability to be content with what she just had. She will literally be eating a cookie while asking for another. I will be like “Dude, you don’t need to double fist cookies. Just relax and appreciate what you got!” But then she will start crying because I won’t give her another cookie WHILE SHE IS STILL EATING THE FIRST FUCKING COOKIE.

    Here is my dilemma. I can’t tell if The Munch’s excessive wanting “more” of everything is a result of her age or a precursor to a struggle that she will battle with for the rest of her life. I don’t want my kid to grow into an adult with an addictive personality. That is how you end up in back allies doing things you really regret. And is a hard thing to overcome. It is difficult for me to distinguish between normal kid shit, and the makings of a person who is going to beat up old ladies to steal money for blow. It is a fine line, my friends.

    Munch: Mamma, can I bring two lollipops to the beach?

    Toni: No Munch.  One is enough.

    Munch: But what if I want another one? Let’s just bring two just in case.

    Toni: Munch, that is excessive. You don’t want to feed that part of your soul. We all crave more, but it is pivotal to know your limits. Being greedy is a detrimental trait because you will never be satisfied, nor truly appreciate anything. Be grateful for what you have. You are so lucky and have so much abundance in your world.

    Munch: Okay how about I eat one lollipop now, and we bring the other one for later.

     

    more-blog-(i)

  • Doing Stuff For Yourself Sucks

    One of the many annoying things about having a young child is how much you have to do for them. I don’t mean the keeping them alive part, but dealing with all the stuff that they can’t do because they are uncoordinated… or won’t do because they are jerks… and maybe you don’t want them to do because they suck at it. You have to wipe their butts, brush their teeth, get them juice from the fridge, help them get dressed, make sure they wash their hands with soap, assist with every cleaning process. This list goes on and on like that winding road the Beatles sang about semi off key. I am not only driving just Miss Daisy, but also serving her day and night like Alfred does Batman – yet without the glamour of a tuxedo.

    Now that The Munch is four, I feel like we have reached an age where she should do a lot of shit on her own. If children in the Amazonian rainforest can handle a machete, my kid can figure out how to put on underwear so it’s not backwards – a fudgie should be pretty obvious by this point.

    The quest for Munch’s autonomy is not just predicated on ability alone however, but also motivation. I want her to want to do these things, and feel empowered by her growing faculties. I don’t want to have to ask or fight about this crap. She should be inspired to grab life by the balls, and get her own fucking water.

    Lucky for me, recently The Munch gave me the perfect tool for manipulation to get this going.

    Munch: Mom, I really want to get earrings.
    Toni: Why do you want to get earrings?
    Munch: Because your mom told me that you had them when you were a little girl, and now I feel jealous.
    Toni: Well, I am not sure you are ready for earrings.
    Munch: BUT WHY MOM!!? I REALLY WANT EARRINGS! IT IS NOT FAIR!
    Toni: Munch you are so particular about your clothes, I cannot handle negotiating another accessory. If you can’t find the right headband you fly into a fit of rage. I don’t want to deal with taking care of your earrings.
    Munch: But I will take care of them!
    Toni: Okay here is the deal. If you can show me for one month that you can be responsible for your own body. You can get earrings before school starts.
    Munch: Okay!!!!!!!!!
    Toni: But Munch… that means you have to get yourself dressed, put your clothes away, clean up your room, and make your bed. Anything you are physically capable of executing, you have to do. You have to be responsible for your own body, and show me you can take care of it, your space, and your things.
    Munch: DEAL!

    You want to know what ?! For a week this totally worked!! The Munch did everything on her own, and if she tried to complain I would just say “it looks like you are still too young for earrings then,” and she would do it immediately. Life was amazing, and I felt like a Machiavellian genius.

    But on the 8th day I went in her room and her bed wasn’t made.

    Toni: Munch? What is going on you haven’t made your bed?
    Munch: Yeah… maybe I will do it this afternoon.
    Toni: No way. That is not our deal. We aren’t going to fight about these things. If you want earrings you have to do this stuff on your own without Mamma asking you too.
    Munch: But MOM… doing everything myself and being responsible for my body is too much work!!! Maybe I will just get earrings when I am six.

    (Here we are…. chilling on the unmade bed)

    earrings-blog-(i)

  • A Culture of Consequences

    How do you motivate people to get them to do what you want? Do you give them an incentive? “Hey, come help me move and I will give you pizza, beer, and make your genitals orgasm.” Do you threaten them? “If you don’t help me move then I am going to shit in your mouth while you are sleeping.” Or do you expect them to do things because it is the “right” thing to do? “Come help me move because you are my friend and I need your assistance.”

    Philosophically we should be kind, thoughtful, and selfless all the time. We shouldn’t do things because we are seduced or emotionally manipulated – but rather out of righteousness and nobility. I want to do good things for goodness sake. Being good should be all the provocation we need to do good.

    Yeah… but people don’t always operate that way. We are all busy, or at least feel busy, and sometimes need prodding.  There is nothing like a jab in the ass to get your attention am I right?

    Theoretically I want to raise my child where she is completely driven by rationality and kindness.  I don’t want to always rely on, yelling, bribing, or arguing to get Munch to do things.  I want there to be some reasonable conversations that lead to making a collective decision about what is best.  I try to plant seeds to remind The Munch that there are consequences she should be aware of – and I am often looking out for her best interests. If you eat too much sugar, your tummy will hurt. If you don’t go to bed, you will be tired and cranky. If you don’t wash your hands after the bathroom, you will get fecal matter on them that will eventually get in your mouth. Although The Munch has an understanding that there are costs to certain actions, that doesn’t mean she always gives a shit.

    Not every request you make with your child can be a 30-minute debate. Sometimes you just want them to do something – like say brush their fucking teeth – and you don’t want to dispute why holes in your teeth is not desirable for the 400th time. There are days when I have the energy to appeal to her rational side, and there are days where I take a short cut and create a consequence if she doesn’t listen.

    Kids are not stupid and they pick up on your strategies. Even though The Munch will comply if I say “If you don’t turn off The Little Mermaid and come take a bath then I won’t let you watch the Little Mermaid anymore” that doesn’t mean she isn’t taking notes.

    Now she is starting to throw this culture of consequences back in my face. When she wants to do something and I say “no” she then creates a consequence to motivate me. Although I have to say, her threats are way more twisted and demented than mine have ever been.

    “Mom, if you don’t let me have a treat then I will rip your face off.”
    “Mom, if you don’t let me watch a movie then I will take your computer and throw it outside in the rain.”
    “Mom, if you don’t let me stay up I will stomp on your toes with my high heel shoes.”
    “Mom, if you don’t bring my baby upstairs then I will take all your clothes, put them in the toilet, and flush it.”
    culture-of-consequence-blog

  • Do You Really Listen?

    It is really hard to listen to people. We hear the words that come out of face holes, but to truly listen to what someone needs is difficult. Even when we think we are paying attention to what someone is saying, it doesn’t inherently mean that we understand where they are coming from.

    Communication is the most common theme of relationship problems. We are all clouded by subjectivity, so during conversations we tend to focus on our own opinions more than the other person’s. Yet when you exist under this lens of “how do your wants affect me and my wants?” it is impossible to actually connect to the desires of the other person.

    It is challenging to clear your mind of yourself because the self is so persistently chatting in your head. The ego is as relentless as virgin at a porn convention – it just can’t get enough stimulation. The challenge then becomes how to have meaningful conversations with people where you are actually listening to each other and honoring the varying perspectives.

    As a parent it is really easy to bulldoze over your child’s wishes and ignore the substance of what they are trying to ask for. For one, the way they ask is sometimes annoying as fuck. Kids will whine/stomp/yell/cry/hit if you don’t agree with them, and their compromising skills are still being developed. Their discontent can feel tyrannical because they have no patience to explain their perspective. They also often want things that are fucking outrageous. The Munch will feel totally justified to scream and kick the floor because I won’t build her a candy house. Since kids so often approach you in this irrational hyper-emotional way, it is easy to forget that sometimes their requests are totally reasonable.

    The Munch had her birthday the other day, and she wanted to watch Cinderella while I made her breakfast. I never let her watch things in the morning, but figured it was her birthday, so why not make a special occasion. Yet while she was watching Cinderella she was thirsty and wanted some water.

    Munch: Mamma, can you get me some water?
    Toni: Sure.
    Munch: With a straw?
    Toni: Oaky fine. Here you go. But you have to drink it here in the kitchen.
    Munch: But I am watching Cinderella…
    Toni: Yeah but I don’t want you to have a cup of water next to my computer because it could spill.
    Munch: But I will be really careful. I don’t spill it.
    Toni: I know you will be careful, but accidents happen. If you spilled water on my computer you would ruin my computer and Apple care wouldn’t fix it. I can’t let take that risk. My computer is my life, as pathetic as that is.
    Munch: But Mom I am really thirsty! It is so hot outside!!!
    Toni: Well just pause Cinderella and come get water when you want it!
    Munch: But then I will just have to keep coming into the kitchen.
    Toni: Okay, I have an idea. Come. Let’s bring the water into my office, and I will pur the water here. On the table over here.
    Munch: But I still have to keep getting up!
    Toni: Dude… you have to get up, but you are in the same room?
    Munch: Mom I just want to have the water next to me!! Wahhhaaaahhhhaaaa
    Toni: Okay, you are not listening. No more Cinderella.

    I took the computer away, and of course The Munch started to cry. I felt bad because it was her birthday and hot as balls. I could understand being thirsty and not wanting to get up, but I also really didn’t want a cup of water next to my reason for living…. Uh, I mean just a meaningless piece of technology.

    Munch: Wahhhaaaahhaaaa!!
    Toni: Munch, come here. Lets have a cuddle and talk.
    Munch: Mamma, I really want to watch Cinderella.
    Toni: I hear you. But I really don’t want water that could be spilled next to my computer. It is expensive and important to me.
    Munch: But I wasn’t going to spill it and I really didn’t want to get up that many times because then I would miss Cinderella and I would get even more sweaty!
    Toni: Wait a minute…. I have a solution. We could get one of your water bottles with a straw, and then you could have the water bottle next to you, drink from a straw, but I wouldn’t have to be nervous about my computer!
    Munch: Yayyyyyy!

    The solution was obvious, but I wasn’t thinking of one because I was being narrow-minded in my own logic. I knew what I didn’t want, and that felt more important than what Munch wanted. Yet when I took a minute to really listen to her, we came up with a resolution that fit both of our needs.

    listening-blog-(i)

  • Lying Your Way Out of Trouble… Or into Trouble

     

    When I was a kid there was a Mormon PSA about lying, and in it was this song that went  “When you tell one lie, it leads to another. So then you tell two lies, to cover each other.  Then you tell three lies, oh brother, you are in trouble up to your ears!”

    Catchy right?  Such a powerful life lesson! So you would think I would have known better than to lie to my parents as a child, but I still did it. If you are likely going to get in trouble anyway, why not lie first and at least try to get out of it?  It’s not like if I murdered someone and then told the truth I would not go to prison.  Either way I am fucked, so why not say “I have no idea where they are…. Definitely not chopped up and stuffed into this pot of soup that smells like burnt flesh and decay.”

    This is a story of one of many lies I told my mom and dad as kid.  I was 12 years old and with my best friends Bitty and Elizabeth.  My parents were out for the day, and we decided it would be a good idea to paint our fingernails.  But we wanted to do this lovely activity while watching a movie in the living room.  Because if you are going to be painting your nails fire engine red, you have to be watching “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” in the background.

    Now herein lays the problem.  My mother had just gotten a carpet custom made, and had given me an extensive list of all the things I could not do in the living room such as eat, drink anything but water, wear shoes, makes messes, or walk on the rug.  In fact when we entered the living room we had to crawl along the wall like Spiderman to get to the couch.

    But I figured we would put newspaper down, and paint our nails over that.  Bitty and I decided that it would be cool do one nail pink and the next orange – so we were sharing polishes.  Bitty, however, failed to realize that I had not properly closed the cap on the red, but instead had only placed it in the bottle.  So she grabbed the bottle and instinctively shook it.  The cap flew off and red nail polish splashed everywhere… including all over my mom’s precious rug.

    Toni: “Holy fuck.”

    Bitty: “Shit.”

    Elizabeth: “Shit Fuck.”

    Toni: “Bitty why did you do that?”

    Bitty: “Toni, why did I do that? Why didn’t you screw the cap on???? What is wrong with you?”

    Elizabeth: “What the fuck just happened?”

    Toni: “We have got to clean this up before my parents get home.”

    Bitty: “Well why don’t we use nail polish remover?”

    Elizabeth: “Okay I will go get some.”

    We start scrubbing furiously with nail polish remover.

    Toni: “Son of a cock.  Its not working!”

    Bitty: “Why don’t we add cleaner to it.”

    Elizabeth: “Okay I will make a mixture.”

    The scrubbing continues.

    Toni: “Fucking whore its just making everything pink and the rug fuzzy.”

    Bitty: “Oh god.”

    Elizabeth: “I know… why don’t we try cutting the stains out?”

    Toni: “Okay I will get a knife.”

    Bitty: “Like this?”

    Elizabeth: “Yeah….”

    Toni: “Dude now the rug is pink with holes cut into it.”

    Bitty: “Your mom is going to murder us.”

    Elizabeth: “You mean you guys.  I didn’t do anything.”

    Toni: “Well you are in it now.”

    Bitty: “I am scared.”

    Elizabeth: “Me too.”

    Toni: “Don’t worry I have an idea… I am going to get us out of this.”  And with that I hid the evidence under the bench and concocted my story.

    My parents came home and the first thing they saw was the rug.  Bitty, Elizabeth looked at them sheepishly, but I was poised.  I had a plan, and it was a good one.  I was going to lie my way out of this mess.

    My Mom: “Toni! What the fuck happened to my rug?”

    Toni: “Fiona (our dog) had her period on it.”

    My Mom: “What? How can that be? Fiona is spade?”

    Toni: “It can still happen.  She can still get her dog period even though she is spade.”

    My Mom: “Then why does it smell like nail polish remover?”

    Toni: “Well, because Lily’s dad always cleans his dog’s stains with nail polish remover.  So I thought it would work.”

    My Mom: “Really?  Joel cleans his dog’s stains with nail polish remover?”

    Toni: “Yup.”

    My Mom: “TONI WHY THE FUCK ARE THEIR HOLES CUT INTO MY RUG.”

    Toni: “Well some of the blood chunks were chunkier than others so we had to cut them out.”

    My Mom: “Okay that is it.  Girls.  Separate, I am questioning you each individually.”

    Needless to say Bitty and Elizabeth were not seasoned liars like I was, and the truth came out.   We all got grounded and my mom gave me The Bearenstain Bears book about how lying is wrong- specially annotated just for me.   But we all know that lying wasn’t the real problem.  It was the fact that I ruined her rug…. But there was no book for that.

    Here are the two main culprits…. Me and Bitty… and some of the MANY specialized pages of the Bearenstain Bear Book

    truth-blog-(i1)

    true-blog-(i2)

    true-blog-(i3)

    true-blog-(i4)

    true-blog-(i5)

     

     

     

     

  • Parents Can Be Really Annoying

    Parents can be really annoying.  I know everyone has their own style, and who am I to judge really, but sometimes I do anyway.  And do you want to know why? Because I fucking can that is why.

    Yesterday The Munch and I went to the beach because she wanted to go swimming.  Forget that the lake was ice 3 weeks ago.  The Munch has no concept of time and as far as she is concerned its summer.  I figured she doesn’t have balls that are going to get all small and silly looking, so why not swim in 50-degree water.

    At first we are the only ones there. Her little naked body skittering across the sand like a crab.  It was a peaceful scene.  I felt like the animals weren’t disturbed by our presence.  The trees embraced us with their shadows.  We weren’t interfering with the Zen of place.

    Then this father came with his two sons.  At first I thought it might be fun and The Munch would have others to frolic with, but the dad instantly got really annoying.  He would not stop barking orders at his kids.

    “Josiah! Josiah! Don’t climb up there.  That’s not yours.  Come down and get in the water.  No. Noah! Don’t go over to those swings.  We have crap like that at home.  Get in the water.  We came here to play in the water.  Josiah!! Josiah!! GET OUT OF THAT BOAT! Don’t sit in there.  Noah quit it! Don’t go on those docks. Josiah, stop poking at the sand like that.  NOAH! I told you to get in the water.  We have a slide at home.”

    All the meanwhile he was on his phone emailing! Now I am all for entertaining yourself with your phone when your kids are boring you, but then pay attention to your dumb phone.  If I am on my phone looking at Facebook do you think I give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut if my kid is sitting in a docked boat that safely nestled on the sand and is pretending to drive it?  Not at all.  As long as you are not bothering me, I am not going to bother you.

    Of course I didn’t know these kids, and maybe they are total terrors and extremely destructive – but there really wasn’t much you could have damaged.  It’s not like they were going to tear down the swing set with their bare hands and crap in the sandbox.  They were just having fun.  I really didn’t get why the dad had to micromanage and dictate their every move.  Rather than spending all that energy yelling at them how to play, he could have just played with them.  Or hung out on his phone and be preoccupied with that.  I would have so much rather heard the noises of children enjoying their time then some 40 year old man screaming at them.

    And you know what? The kids, although rambunctious were perfectly nice humans.  The older one even came up to talk to The Munch and me:

    Josiah: “Did you know I was at my uncle’s house today?”

    Toni: “No actually I didn’t.

    Josiah: “Yeah. My cousins were there.  I have one cousin Mark who is 11, and he has brown hair.  Then another cousin Kevin ,who is 8 and his pants got really dirty.  Then Lydia who is 9 but I don’t really talk to her that much. I am 5.  Then my dad came and got us.  But I am pretty sure my uncle stayed at home.  Because he didn’t come with us.  I actually don’t know where he is now.”

    Then the dad came up and said, “Watch out.  He can talk your ear off all day.” And I was like … ummmmm he is sitting right there dude.  He can hear you.  Fine this wasn’t the best story I ever heard, but now I know all about this kid’s uncle and cousins so there wasn’t nothing gained.  The dad didn’t have to put down his kid because his son chatting to me embarrassed him.  He should have been embarrassed by his behavior of being a bossy prick for the past half hour.  I would talk to Josiah all day about dirty pants brown hair, Mark, Kevin, Lydia, and this absentee uncle if it meant you would shut the fuck up dad.

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    May 8, 2013 • 2 years old, Adventures, Behavior, Disciplining, Musings, Parenting • Views: 1511

  • Don’t Tell Me What To Do!

    No one likes to be told what to do.  Whenever someone tells me to do something, my first reaction is to do the opposite.  Probably why I always end up getting into trouble.  “Toni, don’t touch that bat, it carries diseases” well… not if you are wearing a condom.

    When you have a kid you are constantly telling them what to do, and sometimes they listen, and sometimes they are like “go fuck yourself.”  I can’t blame The Munch for not wanting to succumb to all of my demands.  Even though I am way smarter, and the majority of my requests are not only sensible but for her benefit, she will undoubtedly rebel.

    Sometimes I can anticipate here revolt, and sometimes she catches me totally off guard.  Her uprising against my logic can throw me off my game and confuse me.  Maybe she is right and I am being unreasonable? Does she really need to pee before taking a nap?  Should I risk the chance she urinates in my bed?  And then an hour later while ripping the sheets of my mattress I wonder why I let myself be manipulated by her mutiny.

    The insurgence of a toddler is intimidating.  It is never just “no thank you Mamma, I would rather not leave the park now.” If The Munch is pissed and doesn’t want to do something, I better get ready for battle.

    But now I have this new strategy.  You know how you might take a toy and talk as the toy’s voice to play with a kid right? And be like “Hey, its me.  Bear.  You want to smell my fart?” to make them laugh.  Well my friend Sarah told me, “just have the toys tell her to do things that she doesn’t want to do. If it’s coming from the toy, rather than you, she will do it.”

    Fuck yeah she will.  Even though my toy voice is undoubtedly creepy and out of a Stephen King movie, this method totally works!  I guess things are way more annoying coming out of my mouth… but when coming from her owl – no problem!  So for all you future boyfriends of the Munch, if she is not listening to you, just grab a stuffed animal and let them to the talking!

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