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Browsing Tag: discipline

The Banana Battle: No, it’s Not What You’re Thinking

I’m going to tell you a story– a small one, not a big deal in the grand scheme of all that happens on a regular day in Parenting Land, but one that isn’t easy to tell–about an incident that happened with Quinlan. But this isn’t a story about my child. It’s actually one about my husband.Our Mighty is testing her powers, as it were. She’s getting a bit mouthier. More stubborn sometimes. When she talks back, she commits, and holds on to the rudeness and disrespect with a tenacity that should be unheard of in someone who has recently been caught coating her hair in body lotion after a shower. People will tell us that we need to spank, that we need to instill the fear of God in these little people. For seven years we’ve been trying to fear-instill without the corporal punishment part, and, well, it’s going as you expected. Maybe that’s why Quinlan recently told a mother helper in her kindergarten class that Mommy needs no-yelling practice. Just a hunch. It’s all I…

To Everything, Turn, Turn, Turn

Cian doesn’t sleep through the night by himself. I mean, this isn’t something new: I don’t think he’s really slept through the night well since he was about 20 weeks prenatal, rolling around in my belly at 2 a.m. like some deranged BMX biker on Red Bull (speaking of Red Bull: is that still around? Or am I just remembering 1999 a little better than I should?). We moved him out of a crib into his real bed a few months ago, thinking that maybe he was just too big for the confined space (he was) and that having more room would help him relax (it didn’t). So here we are now: lying down with him as he falls asleep at night (third child says, “haha, SUCKERS!”), then jolting out of sleep around 11, 12, 1 in the morning when he wakes up, realizes we’re not with him, and either cries like we’ve all decided to go to  Fiji and leave him behind, or shuffles into our room to crawl into our bed like some cat burglar with separation issues, and we wake…

Well, Excuse Me

Saoirse was trying to hang a picture on the fridge when the magnet fell to the floor, taking her drawing of a ghost-dolphin-unicorn with it. “What the HECK?!” Saoirse asked the question with more emphasis than really necessary for a 5-year-old, and was looking at me to gauge my reaction to the new word coming out of her mouth. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at her. I could feel my eyebrows reaching so far up they were probably in my ponytail. It could be worse, of course, the word. At least it was just “heck,” and not something else Dave or I might have muttered when say, a certain 3-year-old lobbed a glass into the kitchen sink like a free throw (always getting the extra point, by the way. The kid has aim). But still. We don’t do that stuff around here, not for the five-and-under crowd. And she surprised me, so I just looked at her. “What?” she said. She had this look on her face that was an expression I expected to see in ten years, not now…