I’m confiscating the whistle.
I’ve taken issue with whistles ever since Mrs. Bouwer’s P.E. class in 7th grade. Hearing one nearby makes my neck compress into my torso, so you can imagine when it was inside my house that every hair on my body stood up while I froze in position.
I wasn’t sure where the whistle came from, however, it prompted a thorough cleansing of the kids bedrooms today. They hide stuff in so many places; behind the drapes. In a box inside a box under the bed. I promised I could handle it myself, but they mysteriously wanted to help. I guess bringing out the biggest garbage can in the house “speaks their language”.
I so appreciate those of you who wrote me to tell me how normal you think I really am. I’m not sure you’re right, but here’s hoping. Maybe in the parenting magazines I’ve read over the years no one really described it the way I see it many days. Gut wrenchingly difficult. Confusing. And when its just you to deal with it during the day, it can be colored with a tinge of helplessness. So much so you think you might just throw up. And then a few minutes later you’re smiling and proud and crazily assume the confrontation may have been worth it after all.
It was practically 2 against 1 here tonight. I had clearly asked them to finish picking up in Avery’s room – at least 5 times. (Thats why I’m claiming the whistle) But for whatever reason, their listening skills were dull tonight and it wasn’t even the streams of silly string that sent me over the edge. It was when Taylor went into the room and came right back out and decided to work on gluing beads to rocks.
Finally, with one last order they went in the room to pick up what to you & I looked like not much at all, but they couldn’t seem to do a thing. I told them to turn around and face the window. They stared at me. I used both my index fingers pointing at the floor and made a circling motion. “Ohhh” Tay said as she did a ballerina spin landing on the bed. “NO! This isn’t the hokey pokey! Face the window. You’re getting a spanking for disobedience.”
Tay’s face completely changed and she stuck her hip out, put her hand up on it and garbled up something while her neck moved mysteriously back & forth. “What was that?” I asked her. “That was spanish!”
I proceeded to spank her and now she’s spending the rest of her evening in her room, for sassing me en espanol. She informed me she intended to sleep in her nice outfit and wake up and have it wrinkled and sweaty. (What was it that I predicted again? That 6 would be a sweet age?)
After a few minutes had passed, I went in her room and sat at the edge of the bed, informing her that I would not allow her to be disrespectful to me or anyone else that way, however if her daddy heard her do it, she would be in a whole heap more of trouble. He was never really my “knight in shining armor” until the kids started talking back. Now he really is my hero. It is a huge relief to have a boundary line drawn on your behalf! I just love Tay too much to let her start acting that way! I explained to her that there is a time to be funny in spanish and a time that it is just not appropriate. And that was it. She understood. We were all good again.
She came out of her room after about a half hour and asked to talk to me. She had a nice outline of 3 things that she knew she did wrong and what the correct thing to do would have been (She’s gettin’ good!). I was actually so proud of her for coming to say that to me. Gosh, you know, I just want to pop her up some popcorn and stick in a movie, but she’s supposed to stay in her room the rest of the night.
Such is life. Normal, right?
Well, I have to get to some housework yet, but some of you will love this. We were layin around the house this weekend and Taylor brings out Avery’s hot pink guitar. She loves to sing – has forever been musical – and decided to sing us a song she made up. I was on the computer when she came in, so I tried as hard as I could to keep up with her lyrics. I kid you not:
Where is my toy
Where is my favorite toy
Somebody is selling it
This is a sale
Where is my toy
Do not buy it, Do not buy it
That was my favorite toy Mommy
Do not let them buy it
But they already got it in their car
I will go chase them down the street
What country do they live in?
I am fairly certain that my child is scarred by garage sales. No wonder she hides her stuff.