I took my five-year-old to see the Perseid meteor shower (have I mentioned she wants to be an astronaut when she grows up?) I put her to bed at the normal time, then got her up around 11pm to get ready to go. I'd planned to get her up at 11:30, but was glad I did it early because she cried for half an hour straight. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't, poor kid. She kept taking deep breaths, but she was so tired that she couldn't help it. I offered to let her go back to bed, but she refused -- she really, really wanted to go see the meteors. I managed to talk her down enough to get her out the door and buckled into her car seat, where she fell asleep as soon as we were a few minutes down the road. I drove about 45 minutes outside town and took a couple back roads until I found a good spot in between a cornfield and a soybean field. I pulled up in the tractor entrance. With no houses for at least a mile in all directions, the view into space was awe-inspiring.

The stars were amazing. Having grown up in the city, I'm always blown away by the night sky in the country. I only saw four meteors, and Evelyn might have seen one or two. Even though I'd checked the radar earlier that evening and it was supposed to be clear, the sky to the southeast was covered in clouds, and that's where most of the meteor action was supposed to be. Oh well.

We stayed for about five minutes, after which the munchkin said she wanted to go home; she was fighting so hard to stay awake. We got back in the car, and I'm pretty sure she passed out as I backed onto the road and started to head back toward the highway.

I have several other crazy stories to tell, but I'm just not feeling it. Kids do crazy things, and dealing with those crazy things is just part of living with kids. So on a lighter note, I've made a list of songs that are supposed to be love songs dealing with adult relationships, but that I feel translate well into how I feel about my mini-me. Thanks to my awesome sister for giving me suggestions after I told her I was compiling this list.

I had a lot of fun making this list, mostly because I went back and listened to some songs that were significant to me when I was younger but take on an entirely different meaning in the context of this list.

Also, no copyright infringement is intended by my posting of youtube videos for each song; I just want to provide links for people to listen for themselves.

1.) "I Love You Always Forever" by Donna Lewis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqdWTeXWvOg

 This one is pretty self-explanatory based on the title. I like to put it on for us to dance to, and I sing it to her while we're dancing.

2.) "Not Your Fault" by AWOLNATION

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jm9-yVdxbSs

The verses don't really match up to a parent/child relationship, but the line in the chorus is applicable whenever I lose my temper with her: "Baby when I'm yellin' at you, it's not your fault, it's not your fault." I sing this to myself whenever I've yelled at her to remind myself that it really isn't her fault; she's just a kid, and she's going to do crazy kid things. Perhaps I should sing it to her instead.

3.) "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvCBSSwgtg4

The chorus says it all: "I belong with you, you belong with me, my sweetheart." To someone in a relationship, this might mean something different. Since my sweetheart is my daughter and not a lover, the tone changes, but the words still ring true.

4.) "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjFaenf1T-Y

"Home is wherever I'm with you." Much of the verses are applicable as well, with lyrics such as "you're the apple of my eye, girl I've never loved one like you" and "laugh until we think we've died, barefoot on a summer night, never knew anything sweeter than with you." It reminds me that we're a family, even if there are only two of us, and that love is what makes a home.

5.) "Every Breath You Take" by The Police

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEnJDaqT3-0

I've always thought this song was completely creepy. However, when my sister mentioned it, I listened to it again and found that it is definitely applicable to the parent/child relationship. It became much less creepy when listening to it in that context.

6.) "I'll Be There" by Jackson 5

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-apaIOOoAo

Another suggestion from my seester. I've always liked this song, though I'm not too comfortable with the idea of children singing a song intended to represent an adult relationship. However, like the stalker song above, it's completely relevant to the way I feel about my kid, so there's that.

7.) "I Swear" by All-4-One

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7QwCrlM7RE&feature=related

"For better or worse, til death do us part, I'll love you with every beat of my heart." Yes. I realize these are generally used as marriage vows, but they still apply. Actually, all of this song applies.

8.) "For You I Will" by Monica

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lXmNqnaTcY&feature=related

"I will cross the ocean for you, I will go and bring you the moon, I will be your hero, your strength, anything you need; I will be the sun in your sky, I will light your way for all time, I promise you, for you I will." And then there are the verses. How was this not written by a parent for their child?

9.) "Too Dramatic" by Ra Ra Riot

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRo7Ed4yfvo

I'd almost forgotten about this one; it used to get stuck in my head for days whenever the munchkin would have a screaming meltdown over something that seemed completely trivial to me.

I wanted to get to ten, but I've been adding to this list for the past couple weeks and I'd like to move on. Comment here or on my facebook page about your favorite grown-up song for your kid(s)! (Remember, it doesn't count if it was actually written for a kid.)

I know that the authoritarian discipline style doesn't work on my kid. I know this. And yet, for some reason, I still try to use it. Mostly when we're in a hurry or it's important to me that something be done as quickly as possible. Of course, the result is always the same: defiance. She usually listens pretty well when I speak to her in the same tone I expect her to use toward others (i.e. polite). She is not a defiant child in general. However, she is very stubborn and independent, so whenever I attempt to exert my authority in a manner reminiscent of a drill sergeant (or maybe a strict schoolmarm would be more accurate), she rebels. This, of course, becomes a battle of wills that quickly spirals into a total loss of control, usually on her part (though plenty of times on my own, as well). 

Last week, we were supposed to have dinner with some friends. She enjoys going to their house and has no reason to delay going there; however, from the moment I walked in the door to pick her up after my class, I began barking orders at her because I wanted to get there as soon as possible. Mommy fail. Her stubborn streak immediately kicked in and within a few short minutes escalated into a full-blown tantrum. I attempted de-escalation tactics, but she was hot and tired and hungry and nothing I said made a bit of difference once she was already in her behavioral downward spiral. She fought me every inch of the way from getting shoes on to walking out the door to getting in the car and buckled, and even after we got home; I had to physically move her anywhere I wanted her to go, with her fighting me the whole way and screaming like she was possessed. At several points I was positive that her head was going to turn all the way around and I'd soon be drenched in split-pea soup (yes, it was that intense). I'm sure with all the dragging and screaming it looked like I was kidnapping her (I'm so glad I didn't get pulled over on the way home).

Once we were home, there were fewer distractions. She continued her tantrum in the chair I sat her in, but after a while she just cried. I came and sat across from her, waiting for her to calm down more so we could talk.

"I think...I'm going...to throw up," she wheezed in between heavy cry-breaths. "And...my throat...hurts."

I got her a cup of water and some tissues, sat back down, and said, "Sweetheart, the reason you feel like that is that you've been throwing a fit and crying and screaming. The screaming hurt your throat, and the hysterics made you feel like throwing up. You'll feel better after you're all the way calm." She wiped her eyes and nose, took small sips of water, and sat. She was still crying, but no longer tantruming.

After a while, her breathing evened out a bit. "I still feel sick."

"Drink some more water and take a few deep breaths," I told her, "you'll feel better soon. I'm glad you're finally calming down." After she'd fully stopped crying, I asked her why she was so upset in the first place.

"Because I thought you didn't love me!" She started crying all over again.

"Oh, honey," (I felt so bad), "of course I love you! But when I tell you to do something, I need you to do it. I just wanted you to get ready so we could go to our friends' house."

"I'm sorry Mommy!" she sobbed. "I want to go, I'll listen, I promise!"

"It's too late," I told her as gently as I could. "It's going to be bedtime soon. We can go another day."

She wailed inconsolably. "But I want to see them, I miss them!"

"Sweetheart, you've been out of control since I came to pick you up. You wouldn't have had any fun if we'd gone because you were too upset. We'll go another night." In hindsight, I should have apologized to her for my rude tone. I want her to be polite and respectful to others, even when she's upset herself, which means I need to show her how to do that. Unfortunately, it's a skill I'm still working on myself when it comes to parenting. Mommy fail again. Still, an apology from me probably would have gone a long way in driving home the message that it's really not okay to use a rude tone of voice (yes, I consider authoritarian order-barking to be rude; it tends to breed resentment, not respect -- at least, I tend to resent people who bark orders at me in an authoritarian manner, and I suspect that many people feel the same).

The old "do as I say, not as I do" idiom is bunk. It holds the child to a higher standard than the adult spouting the phrase holds themselves, even though the child has less experience and therefore fewer resources to draw upon, especially when under duress. I feel this philosophy very strongly, yet I struggle to live it. Guess I have my work cut out for me, as far as parenting is concerned.

Dr. Jekyll/Ms. Hyde

I would say that most of the time, my kid is pretty sweet; she's generally not intentionally mean, anyway. I say "generally" because, for the past few days, she's been out of control. I've gotten exceptionally bad reports from school about aggression, defiance, and extreme tantrums over not getting her way (as in, not wanting to do what she's supposed to do, then flipping the hell out when she gets in trouble for it). I have not been a happy mama. I was even less happy about the following exchange.

In the car yesterday evening, she told me more than once that she hated me and was going to kill me. I just said, "oh, okay" so as not to give her too much of a reaction. She went on to tell me that she wanted to be mean, that she wanted to hurt, that she wanted to be a bully. She kicked my seat repeatedly while saying these horrible, hateful things. As much as I wanted to pull the car over and show her what a real bully looks like, I kept my cool (which I'm actually way proud of, because I was super pissed). When we got home, she told me she was hungry and asked me what she could have to eat. My response was, "what makes you think I'm going to give you food?" She stared at me for a few seconds and started to reply, but I cut her off, saying, "you said you hated me, that you wanted to be mean and hurt me, that you were going to kill me, so why in the world would I give you anything?" She didn't say anything, so I went on: "If you killed me, would I be able to feed you?" She looked at the floor and shook her head. "If you killed me, what do you think would happen?"

That's when she burst into tears and ran to give me a hug, saying, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean it, I don't want to kill you or hurt you or be a bully, I'm so so so sorry!"

I accepted her hug, but told her, "it's not okay to say things like that. Ever. To anyone. It doesn't matter how mad you are, you don't say things like that, because the next time you need something from the person you said those things to, you're not going to get it. You can't hurt people and expect them to still be nice to you."

I hope that message sinks in.

Dreams

Lately the munchkin has become somewhat obsessed with dreams. Every morning she tells me about her dream from the night before and asks me what I dreamed (I usually don't remember mine, though). Before bed, we talk about what she thinks she's going to dream about that night. She has a pretty wild imagination, which I love.

A few weeks ago, she carried around "baby Spongebob." She picked him up off of a cloud in a dream and carried him with her into the waking world. He was invisible, and small enough to fit in her hand. He rode in her pocket and slept on her bed, and she fed him bottles and changed his diaper.

There have also been several occasions where she has insisted that something completely outlandish actually happened; it seems as though her dreams are so vivid that she sometimes has a hard time differentiating between them and waking life. Honestly, I'm kinda jealous.

Last night during dinner, my almost-5-year-old daughter looked at me and said, "Mom, can you get a baby in your belly so I can have a sister or a brother?"

I almost choked on my green beans; I was trying so hard not to laugh out loud. "Sorry honey, that's just not going to happen."

"But why, Mom? I want someone to play with me!"

"Sweetheart, if I had another baby, it wouldn't be able to play with you for a long time. Also, babies are a lot of work and I don't have time to take care of another kid." Yes, I realize it sounds like a "we're-not-getting-a-puppy" discussion.

"Okay, I guess I'll just have to play with my cousins and my neighbors."

Phew.

Space Girl

Ever since my daughter discovered that not only is there such a thing as outer space, but some people actually go there, she has wanted to become an astronaut. It's not something she talks about all the time, but she has said on more than one occasion that she wants to be a "Space Girl" when she grows up.

Based on her still-ongoing obsession with bodily functions, I've nurtured a small hope that perhaps one day she will go to medical school.

Last week, we were talking about bodily functions (read: normal conversation for us) and I asked her if she might ever want to be a doctor. She replied, "No, I want to be a Space Girl!"

Then I had a brilliant idea. I said, "What if you went to medical school, then entered astronaut training and became a Space Doctor?"

I could see the wheels turning as she considered my scenario. "Yeah!" was her enthusiastic response.

My kid is awesomesauce.

Man, I can't believe I haven't updated this in over a month. Not that Mommy's Little Monster hasn't been performing blog-worthy antics, I've just been a slacker. However, I have an awesome story to share.

Lately, Evelyn has been minorly obssessed with growing up and all that that entails. We have the "enjoy being a kid" discussion at least a few times a week (keep in mind that she will be 5 in May). There are only so many ways I can say, "I felt the same way at your age, pleasepleaseplease appreciate the benefit of my perspective." I hate saying "you'll understand when you're older," and I do my best to not say it. What I try to do instead is to make my adult responsibilities sound as boring as humanly possible and cast a fun, magical light on the joys of childhood.

I guess I'm not so much setting up the story as giving basic background information here. Let me just skip to the good part.

Last night, my precocious preschooler was telling me that she didn't want to grow up because she didn't want to have her period (yes, she knows what that is, and yes, we have many discussions about the basic functions of the human body. No, we have *not* had "The Talk"). While attempting to walk the line between body-acceptance and childhood-appreciation, I told her, "there are a lot of parts about being a grownup that are no fun, but you just have to accept them and move on."

~*The best part*~

Her reply: "But you're a fun grownup!"

I wish I'd had some kind of audio recorder handy. Not just so I could hear my child tell me I'm fun over and over, but also so I could play it back for her every time she says, "you're a mean mommy!"

It's all about appreciating the little things, right?

Baby's First F-Bomb

My four year old just screamed the "F" word. Yeah, the four-letter one that rhymes with "duck."

She likes to experiment with sounds, start words with different letters, and basically just play with language. Today she's been coming up with words that rhyme with "Lucky" (one of our cats). Just a few minutes ago, I hear something along the lines of: "Lucky, pucky, ducky, mucky...luck, suck, nuck...FUCK" (yeah, she kinda yelled it).

I don't want to make a big deal out of it; I don't want it to become something she does to push my buttons (she's really good at that). I also don't want her dropping F-bombs. So I told her that when that sound starts with an "F," it makes a word that's not nice and I don't want to hear her say it again. Fingers crossed that that's it and I don't hear it again until after she hits puberty and decides she hates me.

Enfant Terrible

For two days last week, my 4-year-old was insanely disruptive during quiet time at school (the kids don't have to sleep, but they do have to rest quietly). Wednesday, she was screaming. Not crying-screaming, screaming as loudly and shrilly as possible and then laughing when everyone covered their ears. If someone asked (or told) her to stop, she'd laugh and do it again. Oh, and she was hitting other kids. Also, at some point during all this, she somehow got ahold of a pair of scissors and was snipping them at a classmate. I had to pick her up early.

Some background: my daughter is a peer model in a special needs preschool class. This means that she is NOT special needs herself (every time I tell someone about her class, they're all like "oh, so she's delayed or something?" NO! She's too damn smart for her own good. No, YOU'RE being defensive.) Being a peer model means that she's there to set the developmental bar for the kids with delays. Except that with this recent behavior, the teachers are having to spend more time and energy dealing with her than working with the kids who actually have IEP's (Individual Education Plans). Which means that she needs to get it together soon or she's going to be dismissed from the class, and how bad does that sound?

"It all started when she got kicked out of special-needs preschool, it was a downward spiral after that. She started smoking, knocked over liquor store and killed a man. Yeah, she's the youngest felon ever."

No, YOU'RE overreacting.

So it was pretty much the same thing on Thursday. I had to leave class early to go pick her up because she was out of control. When we got home, I took away all of her toys. All of them. I left her books, that's it (because, you know, literacy). No stuffed animals, no puzzles, no dress-up clothes, no musical instruments, etc. For each day that she listens and behaves, she gets one toy back. If she has a bad day, those toys go right back in the closet. No more Miss Nice Mommy.

On Friday, she was an angel. Coincidence?

Clog

So after the Baby Alive poopfest (see previous post), I made the mistake of leaving a package of baby wipes in the bathroom. I'm constantly bitching at my daughter for using too much toilet paper. Can you guess where this is going?

Dingdingding, we have a winner! She decided to use wipes instead of tp and, of course, used too many. I've been able to get away with flushing one or two wipes in the past, but when a good quarter of the package goes into the S-bend, it can create some drainage problems.

It backed up Tuesday night, and I (not realizing what was causing the clog) tried plunging it. That seemed to work, so I went to bed without giving it another thought. When I flushed it Wednesday morning, it almost overflowed. Again with the not-what-I-wanted-to-deal-with-first-thing-in-the-morning. Of course, with her potty chair gone and the toilet filled to the brim with raw sewage, the girl had to hold her morning pee until she got to school. She actually made it without having an accident. Yay for small victories.

Meanwhile, back in the toilet bowl, things were draining slowly and finally reached a point that made plunging possible. Unfortunately, my toilet and my plunger don't get along very well. They just don't fit together, and the lack of a firm seal means things can get messy. I'll leave it at that.

I still tried (very carefully) to plunge it for about an hour before admitting defeat. Since it says in my lease that my landlord is not responsible for damage/maintenance emergencies caused by tenants, I started searching plumbers online, hoping to find a bargain price and wondering how the hell I was going to pay for even a bargain price (because, you know, welfare). My friend The Physicist had sent me a facebook message asking how my morning was going, and I shared all the shitty details of my situation with him (ha, see what I did there? Hardy har har.) He offered to come over after work (doing physics stuff, of course) and snake my toilet. I graciously accepted his offer.

When he got there, he tried plunging it himself, because with me not being a physicist or an engineer (did I mention he's technically a mechanical engineer? He just works in the physics department at the university), I was probably doing it wrong. When that didn't work, he tried the snake. When that didn't work, we made a run to Home Depot and he bought a toilet auger. Within a minute or so of working with the auger, he pulled up a clump of wipes that was about as big as my fist, successfully unclogging my toilet. For now.

Baby Alive

Last Monday morning I was awoken by my four year old laying her baby doll on the bed next to me an hour before the alarm was set to go off, saying "Mommy, Baby Alive pooped in her diaper." Baby Alive was a Christmas gift from her great grandmother this past year, and my daughter is in love with it. She is especially in love with the fact that she can give the baby water in a tiny sippy cup and the doll then wets her diaper. She has also become obsessed with anything diaper-related, and that means both forms of human waste.

My first thought when she did this was, Why do I smell real poop? Oh, no. She had pooped in her potty chair and put her own (very real) poop in the doll's diaper. Totally not something I wanted to deal with first thing on a Monday morning, especially when I was supposed to have a full hour more of sleep. I ripped the girl a new one. I think I may have lectured her for a full hour straight, taking short breaks when the smell got to be too much for me. I also gave her potty chair to her two year old cousin and took away all of her baby dolls and accessories. Then I lectured her some more and told her grandma (my mom) the whole story while lecturing her still more, just in case she didn't get the message that what she did was Really. Really. Gross.

Still, I'm a sucker. As much as I wanted to be a hardass and throw the thing directly in the garbage, I couldn't do it.

I wiped the poop off the surface of the doll, scrubbed it, and flushed the fluid tract with disinfectant in an attempt to save it because it was a gift from my grandma (her great grandma). That didn't work. I swallowed my sentimentality and put the doll in the trash can. Luckily I'd just taken the trash out and it was a clean bag, because it wasn't long before I rescued the poor thing, whose only crime was having a poo-obsessed preschooler for an owner. It is now soaking in a five-gallon bucket of oxiclean solution mixed to saturation point. I have no idea what I'll do if that doesn't work. I'll keep you posted.

Broccoli vs. Trees

I used to read articles by parents who struggled to get their kids to eat vegetables and think, “You’re doing it wrong!” I, in my infinite wisdom, knew better than them. The trick is early and frequent exposure; everyone knows that! Silly parents, I thought, get with the program.

Then my veggie-eater decided she didn’t like broccoli.

Broccoli is one of my personal favorites. I like it raw, plain, dipped in dressing, steamed, smothered with cheese, stir-fried, baked on pizza…I could go on. My daughter shared my love of broccoli until she was three and a half. One evening at the dinner table, she looked at her bowl of pasta-with-uber-veggie-sauce and spoke four words I never thought I'd hear from her: “I don’t like broccoli!”

I was stunned. I insisted she eat it anyway; of course she liked broccoli, she’d always liked it. This resulted in a battle of wills (for anyone who has never entered a battle of wills with a preschooler, it's like arguing with a brick wall...one that can scream and throw things).

I’d heard many times the tip of calling broccoli “tiny trees” to trick kids into wanting to eat it. I was horrified by the idea of lying to my child; I also flat-out refused to call anything by an incorrect name. Broccoli is broccoli, it is delicious, she’d always eaten it before and she WILL eat it again, I stubbornly thought to myself. I continued to serve it every day, prepared differently each time but still calling it broccoli. She continued to refuse to eat it.

After a while I gave up. I stopped serving it. I bemoaned my failure as a parent. I had several more people suggest the “call-it-tiny-trees” method. Still I resisted.

Then, in the aftermath of a family crisis, my aunt repeated the suggestion when we were discussing the issue. For some reason, hearing it from her was different than hearing it from anyone else. I decided to finally give it a try.

The next time we were somewhere with a veggie tray that contained broccoli, I pointed to it and said, “Oh, look! They have trees!” My daughter looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Mom, that’s broccoli and I don’t like it.”
“No, it’s trees! I know it looks like broccoli, but it’s actually trees. They’re really yummy, you should try some.” To my surprise, she took a bite.
“Mmmm, I like trees!” she said, as she finished her first piece and reached for a second.

Mission accomplished.

When I Have Kids...

“When I have kids, I’ll never (fill in the blank).” We’ve all said it, or at least thought it, at some point in our childhoods and/or adolescences (probably more so during adolescence). Spanking, grounding, yelling, threatening, reading your kid’s diary…all base treachery from the point of view of a youngster trying to find their place in the world. It’s only when we become parents that we realize how much our own parents really cared about us when they committed these sins.

When I discovered I was pregnant, I became an information sponge for early childhood development. I read everything I could get my hands on: books, parenting magazines, online articles, mommy blogs. I used the plethora of available information to form my parenting persona, or so I thought. I was going to be Mother of the Year every year. I was going to be the most awesome mom ever with the most intelligent, articulate, well-behaved, well-adjusted child on the face of the planet. I was going to always be patient, kind, loving, understanding. I would set firm boundaries and expectations and only use positive redirection to enforce them. I would never, ever lose my temper or become so frustrated with my child that I lashed out in anger with a raised voice, authoritarian words and punishment; such unspeakable acts are indicative of lesser mortals than I, Super-Mom. Unfortunately, Super-Mom is a pipe dream shared by most mothers, including myself. I am, in fact, a lesser mortal.

My kid drives me crazy. There, I said it. It doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I love my daughter more than I thought it was possible to love anyone, ever. I also want to strangle her a good bit of the time. My grandiose, rose-colored view of parenting has been brought crashing back to Earth by hard, cold reality: kids are not clay to be molded in their parents’ image. They have their own personalities which help dictate their actions and responses. This is a hard pill to swallow for most parents, including my own (and myself). My daughter’s personality is very different from my own. I’m an introvert, she’s an extrovert. I have always been one to stand back quietly and observe any situation before adding myself to the mix; she dives right in. I prefer the back seat, she likes to be the center of attention. I avoid confrontation at all costs; she speaks her mind in any and every situation. My greatest challenge as a parent is conforming my discipline style to her personality type. I have yet to find the magical balance; I often find myself yelling, threatening, spanking and attempting to impose my own will on my willful child. While I know intellectually (and from personal experience) that these discipline tactics are more likely to foster resentment than to actually help her learn self-control, I have a very hard time separating my in-the-moment emotions from my end-goal. I have two mantras that I repeat to myself constantly: “Kind but firm” and “It is not my job to control my child, but to teach my child how to control herself.” I keep hoping that with enough mental repetition they will eventually sink in.

I still hope to become a better mother than I am. I have, for the most part, given up on the idea of perfection. When I do lose my temper, I talk to my daughter about it. We talk about the choices she made, what she could have done differently, what I could have done differently and how we can both do better next time. I hope that this teaches her that everyone makes mistakes, but how one handles the aftermath is important, and that mistakes are learning experiences. That, I think, is the most important thing.

Introduction

I'm the single mom of an independent, creative, soon-to-be-five year old daughter. Parenting is always an adventure, but going it alone is even more so because of the absence of another adult to talk to, tag-team with, give mutual support, and generally balance things out. I have an awesome support network of family and friends who have always been willing to babysit, include my daughter on outings, listen to me whine about my first-world single mom problems and offer support & solutions. They are just plain wonderful people who are there for me in general, and I cherish them dearly. Still, it's not the same as having another adult who lives in the same house and is equally responsible for everything.*

One of my biggest parenting flaws is my inability to see the bigger picture. All this "live in the moment" crap is counter-productive when being "in the moment" means focusing directly on the crazy/disgusting/dangerous thing your kid just did without being able to take a step back and see it for what it is: a learning opportunity. That requires a larger-scale perspective.

I have a natural ability to hit the ceiling in .00001 seconds whenever my daughter does something insanely kid-like (read: anything that makes you think, "how the hell did it even occur to you to do that?") Anyone who has been around kids for any amount of time knows that those moments can happen every five seconds, which brings me to my purpose in creating this blog: I need perspective.

I know myself well enough to recognize that having this blog will be enough of a distraction to prevent me from further scarring my child; she has already developed the cowering cringe whenever I give "the sigh" because she knows an angry lecture is coming. When I'm not in Rage-Mom mode, she tends to get a major attitude when she doesn't get her way, and I can't really blame her because I've modeled it for her. If I can get my mind on a track of "oh, this is SO going in my blog!" instead of my typical "what were you thinking/what's wrong with you???" mindset, it could help me become a better parent. Maybe. It's worth a try, anyway.

I'm leading off with a couple of pieces I've already written about parenting in general, and I'll update when I can. I'm certainly never lacking for material (<---understatement of the year).


*Shout out to all the married single moms: married moms whose spouses are overgrown children. I salute you.