Lessons in Addie

This story isn't suitable for the very tender hearted. You will likely think my actions unjust and inhumane. If you are one of those people who supposedly never gets mad or flustered or down right irritated with your children you shouldn't be on this blog. You will likely suppress the giggle moving up your throat, choose to be offended instead and file a claim with CPS. Truthfully you are perhaps looking too heavily through rose colored glasses if you don't find the humor in having an altercation with a 5 yr. old as given below.

Thank you,

Management

Recently Addie demanded my resignation as her mother. Some days I would gladly resign. Some days I mutter under my breath so only Shyler can hear, "I quit." The day Addie called for my resignation I felt like quitting. I was so exhausted from all of the fit throwing (hers, not mine) I nearly dared her to start a petition for my impeachment. I infuriated my child so much I could see images of new mother prospects dancing in her little head. What was it, you ask, which made our little Addie-tude throw a monstrous fit? I demanded she brush her teeth and comb her hair before the preschool bus arrived at high noon.

I am certain I have stated quite plainly before this post the expectations placed on a child in our home. We want our kids up and at em' in the morning. No lounging around in pajamas. If they want breakfast they must be dressed. Their beds must be made. They should also say their morning prayers. Then we will gladly feed them. All must be done in a timely manner. If the clock rolls around to 10-10:30 am and the child is still dawdling he/she misses breakfast for the kitchen is closed and he/she will have to wait until lunch. Hopefully his/her duties will be accomplished by then. Shyler and I believe very strongly in choices and thus consequences. I am sure this sounds strict and harsh, but our kids function quite well with said expectations. On some occasions we even allow a little mercy and understanding based on circumstantial evidence as to why the defendant is not dressed/groomed for the day.

Moving on...

Once I told Addie she had missed breakfast the bomb inside her head exploded. I calmly took her by the hand amidst the tirade and pasted her toothbrush. I then proceeded to pin her to the floor and brush her teeth. She cried, she supposedly choked, she claimed she couldn't breathe with foam in her mouth, and a few specks of foamy paste were spit my way in fury. I pulled her up, took her by the hand, and walked her to the sink. I then splashed water in her face to rinse out her mouth. She cried. I said nothing. I combed her hair. She screamed, she stomped. I said nothing. And then she began saying in between sobs,"I wish I didn't have a mean mommy! I wish I didn't have a mean mommy!"

I didn't speak. I didn't yell. I didn't spank. I was merely assisting her so she would be ready for the preschool bus. As I combed her hair and she continued saying (between tears), "I wish I didn't have a mean mommy," I scanned my brain for the compartment labeled, "Lessons for Addie in the event normal discipline is futile." I found it. A light bulb came on. I am certain the inspiration was not my own. I think it was a quick answer to a quick prayer.

I took Addie by the hand once again and we walked to the hallway closet. She asked, "Mommy, what are you doing?" I picked out a bag I was sure she could carry. Curiosity struck, "Mommy, why are you getting that bag out?" We went to her bedroom. Emery was home with pink eye. She was playing quietly by her bed and looked up as we entered. Her curiosity had piqued, too. I walked Addie to her dresser drawer. I opened it. I handed her the bag. I said, "Here, you pick out a few things from this drawer, grab some underwear, a few books if you like and some toys." I still hung onto her hand and then her knees buckled and she started sobbing again. She cried, "I don't want to leave! I don't want to go!" I replied, "You don't seem happy here. You have a hard time doing your part in our family. You said you have a mean mommy. That must mean you want a new mommy and a new family. Pack your bag and I'll drive you around the neighborhood. You tell me which house you want to go to and I'll take you there. " She then said, "No! I don't want another family! I don't want to be without Emery! I love you! I love you! I love you! I don't want a new mommy!" She dropped the bag. Her body racked with fear and anxiety she wrapped her arms around my waist and clutched my shirt. Her legs were practically intertwined with mine as well. I hugged her and said, "We love you. We don't want you to go, but if you're not willing to do your part and be happy here, then maybe you should pick a new family." I wanted to laugh at her initial reaction, but then I wanted to cry. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emery smirking . She's no dummy. She knew exactly what I was doing.

I sat down on a bed and pulled Addie to me. I explained to her the importance of doing her part in our family. She seemed to understand. She hugged me and said, "Mommy. Do you know what would help me calm down?" "What's that Addie?" "If I can eat my lunch and watch Sesame Street while I eat I think that would help me calm down." I gave her a skeptical look. She then added quickly, "Or I could read some books."

Well, at least she was fed and groomed by the time the preschool bus arrived. Whew.