Kickin' It Old School

Why is it when you finally have a behavior management system in place for your children it no longer works? Every few months I find myself reestablishing rules, routines, manners, discipline, respect, and trying to find a new way for the girls to remember how to behave like humans vs animals.

Depending on the age of the child and the specific child, we have used sticker charts, pom poms in a jar, sad jar, happy jar, dollar store rewards, time outs, alone time, color charts, three strikes and you're out, grounding from technology, missing play dates, earning screen time, earning play time, money (oh yes), and countless others.

My newest form of punishment is not original, nor it is mine. I thought about doing it, but never did until a friend told me she was doing it with her daughter. The beauty of peer pressure. It is no longer allowed in some public school systems and that makes it sound so scandalous.

E1 in all her seven year old glory still has some difficulty expressing her emotions when she gets pissed off. We all fly off the handle sometimes, but at seven I am going to need more self control or when she is 17 this mama is moving the fuck out.

I began this scandalous, corporal punishment in our home and I am LOVING it.

SENTENCE WRITING!!! BEST PUNISHMENT EVER.

When E1 starts to act like an ass (which can happen frequently) I merely state, "You need to stop now or you will be writing sentences."

The "I will not lose my temper" sentences were brought to you by E1 getting angry over something so insignificant that I cannot even remember what pissed her off so badly and neither can she. All she remembers is she lost her damn mind and didn't regain control until mom said, "You are now at 25 sentences."

I start at 10 sentences and work my way up in increments of 5. I might have to go increments of 10 when the novelty of this wears off.

Most recently E1 was in a "NO" mood in which means no matter what I ask, the response is no. I'm not sure what alien takes over her mind while this happens because this behavior has never been acceptable.

Anyway...tonight during our session of "NO" she was able to stop herself upon hearing this, "You are now at 15 sentences of I will not say no."

15 is less than 25. A math lesson and a lesson in self control all rolled into one- how nice for E1.

Maybe this punishment works because it causes focus and allows her to calm down and channel her energy elsewhere, maybe it works because it gives her time to think and reflect on what got her in trouble in the first place, or maybe it works because my kid HATES to write and can think of nothing worse.

Whatever the reason is, I am taking it as a parenting win (for now.)

Added bonus, her crappy ass handwriting will improve.

Food Coloring Fun

Ingredients: dish soap, milk, food coloring

If you google those three ingredients and add the words "science experiment" you will find a ton of videos. According to the internet, the results are better with "fat full" milk, but we had 2% and it worked well enough. Both girls really enjoyed it and we completed the experiment over and over again.

I am sure we will do this again since the items needed are household staples and once we figured out how to get the food coloring/milk "really moving" it became more exciting. The pictures don't do it justice. Super fun.

Dick and Balls

Tonight I was leaving a school board meeting (for E2) when I received the following text from the hubs:

"Don't let the kids out the back tomorrow."

What kind of fucking text is that?? I call my husband and he says, "Apollo (our dog) killed a possum."

My car ride home is approximately 35 minutes.  In these 35 minutes my husband and I exchange squeamish girly noises and then proceed to discuss how to get rid of this disgusting mother fucker.

Me: Are you sure it is dead? What are we going to do?
Hubs: Apollo was throwing it around like a damn ball - it is fucking dead. I don't know how YOU are getting rid of it. I am going to work tomorrow. Don't let the kids out back.
Me: Are you out of your fucking mind?? YOU are getting rid of it.
Hubs: Nope. Not happening. You married a Jewish boy, remember?

At this point I recognize he is 60% serious, 40% joking.

YOU HAVE A FUCKING DICK AND A SET OF BALLS. USE THEM.

I post on Facebook that I need a shovel. I call EVERY person I know that lives within a 10 minute drive. NO ONE answers the phone. Hey, neighborhood friends??? WHAT THE FUCK?? Are you all passed out off your damn red wine at 9:30 pm?? I NEED A FUCKING SHOVEL!

While driving, I continue to call, text, oh and google "Do possums have rabies?" because not only does my vagina of a husband think I am going to get rid of the damn animal, but I also need to take the fucking dog to the vet tomorrow.

HALLELUJAH!!! A FRIEND ANSWERED THE PHONE.

They have a shovel. She is leaving it at her doorstep. 10 pm, here I am putting a shovel into the trunk of the car. For sure, I have seen this before. That's right, it was an episode of Law & Order. Forensics show blood and hair in the trunk along with the shovel used to bury the body.
Yes, this is where my mind goes....Woman arrested for burying her husband, later to be released as forensics show it was the remains of a possum.

I call the hubs and say wheel the garbage can to the backyard so you can shovel this fucker into it. Again he says he is not going to do it and my job is "taking care of the house."

UM.....

"YOU HAVE A DICK AND BALLS. USE THEM. And by the way, TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSE? That's fan -fucking-tastic. I'll take care of the fucking house. I am taking the damn Amex and taking care of the fucking house. I am going to take care of the plantation shutters I want, the mother fucking hardwood floors, and don't forget my covered patio! That's fine husband, I'll get rid of the damn possum and then TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSE." Fuck you, mother fucker.

(Side note: the hubs is laughing so hard at this point and he too has a mouth like a sailor. We are perfect for each other.)

In the mean time I had posted to our women's yahoo group (that's a whole other blog post) asking if there were any animal rescues that could help. Post after post said possums play dead so they stop getting attacked and most likely the animal was alive and would be gone in 30 minutes.

I relay the info to my husband and he assures me it is dead. He reiterates the story and says 100% it is dead.

I get home with the shovel.
I turn on the flashlight on my phone.
Husband takes shovel and goes outside.
I follow.

Possum gone.

SON OF A BITCH

New Year

In a few short days we will celebrate Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year. It is, for the most part, a joyous holiday. It is a reminder of the year we finished and an opportunity to look ahead to the future. A time to reflect and time to plan. A holiday with smiles and family and apples and honey for a sweet new year.

From Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, Jewish people observe the Days of Awe. During this time, we are to atone for the past year's transgression and forgive those have hurt us. From Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur it is believed that our names will be written in the book of life, who shall live, who shall die, who shall have a good year, bad year, etc.

As a cancer survivor, I openly admit I hate this time of year. I have the utmost faith in G-d and count my blessings every day but this book of life gives me annual anxiety. I am not a bad person, but I make mistakes. I know I have sinned this year. It is human to sin. One cannot be perfect 24/7. I know that G-d forgives me when I atone, so what am I so worried about?

I cannot help but wonder will this be the year? Will my name be left out? Will I not make it? Then I try to remember my faith and think of course I will be written in the Book of Life. This then leads me to my next morbid thoughts of which family member or friend might be left out.  It happens. You never know when, but people die. They do. It is a part of life. And it is the part of life I hate and have yet to come to terms with.

I truly do believe in G-d, have faith in G-d, believe everything happens for a reason, and all the other what doesn't kill you makes you stronger cliches. I truly have faith.

While this time of year brings me face to face with my ultimate fear, death, it also allows me to reflect on my life and how I live. I am alive. I am here to live. I am here to be a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, cousin, granddaughter, friend. I am alive. I have a life to live and it is my choice how to live it.

Each year as the Book of Life is sealed and I pray I have been written in for a long healthy prosperous year, my anxiety subsides and I live. I make memories, I smile, I post too much on Instagram, post too much on Facebook, laugh too much, enjoy the days. Life is a gift. Each year I am here is a gift and I will not waste it.

Traffic, delayed flights, and other every day crap gets to me. Yes, I have bad days when I yell too much, sleep too little, eat only fast food, get so drunk you would think I was 20, run red lights, and text while driving. Like I said, I sin. I make mistakes. For any mistake I have made against another person, I ask forgiveness. My mistakes are never made with malicious intent.

Each year I reflect on my mistakes and try to make less of them. I try to be a better person. I remember it is my choice to live my life to the fullest or not. I can choose to be angry and annoyed at people or I can choose to move on. I can choose to accept people for who they are and pray I receive the same courtesy. I choose each year to choose life, a happy life.

When G-d writes my name in the Book of Life, I want him to know how thankful I am to have my life. I want him to know I appreciate my life and like every year, I will try my hardest to make the most of the next twelve months and all the months to follow. I will enjoy my gift of life.

I wish all my family and friends L'Shana Tova, a happy new year, and may you be inscribed in the Book of Life this year and many years to come.