Who needs a rooster? I have one that wakes me EVERY morning around 7:00 am regardless of how late he stays up. The instant he's awake out comes this horrendously loud SQUAAAKKKK!!! I can hear it through his bedroom door, down the hall, across the living room and through my bedroom door. Yes, it is my son I'm talking about. He actually crows every morning. In fact the more I think about it, the more I realize just how much he has in common with a rooster. He "crows" all day for long periods. He fights me whenever I want him to do... anything. He sends me to a whole new plane of irritation when I want to get any work done by following me and just generally getting in the way. I can not, however, eat him fried, roasted, baked, grilled or any other fashion. What do you do with a wild, loud, naughty rooster when you can't eat it?
My daughter, on the other hand, is learning to test the boundaries. I'm working on a full bore mutiny in my household. Her favorite things to do to test the full extent of my temper are to go into my feminine pads and remove the outer wrapping and the paper from all the sticky pads thereby rendering them unusable, standing on our new dining table because now she can climb up on it easier and, finally, turning into a veritable tattletale, drama queen. She likes to tattletale on her brother when he's done nothing to her at all even. If you tell her NO in any form (and we have many, many times), she will believe that the entire world will melt with the sorrow in her heart. Generally, this leads to a stint in CRIB KNOX though. Crib Knox is what I call the pack and play that is in her room. I used it previously on daycare children and at the moment, it is my naughty toddler detention center where they do "hard" time (stay until their meltdown is over). If I weren't so callous as to put her there, she would follow me room to room with her bullhorn mouth wailing about how I did her wrong by not letting her play with iron, sharp knives or whatever dangerous object I've removed from her person. She likes to help unload the dishwasher but hasn't grasped that the dishes need to stay in the kitchen.
All in all, I love and adore my kids. Most likely the reason they drive me crazy is that I feel like a bumbling mother that has no direction in where to take the discipline even though I'm pretty sure that I've studied almost every child-rearing book on the market. I've thought about contacting the Supernanny show so that she could proe to me that her blasted time outs DO work on children that literally sit there laughing. I'm not particularly fond of spanking my children with hand or any object as I am battling a cycle of disciplinary abuse. My dad was a different father than he is today and tended to hit before he found out all the facts. These days, he is a remarkably patient man and is actually even the principal of an elementary school. If you ever met him, you would tell me that the stories I could tell are made up and could not possibly be tha tsame person that you met. All I can say is that therapy and self-control go MILES into remaking a persons soul. I love my father dearly and he is now one of my best friends. I respect him now and not because of the "spankings" we have received in the past but because of the respect he now gives to each of his kids. He too had fought to break a cycle of abuse. Unfortunely for us kids, he didn't accomplish it until my youngest sister was halfway through her teen years.
Now, for my things I need to do today:
Wash half the MOUNTAIN of laundry and actually put it away (a brave new feat for me) -
Figure out where in Hades I put those stupid peat pellets -
Start working on DD's latest dress -