BaneRants  

You must be at least this tall to ride this ride

::Tip Jar::






::Menu::

View My Stats




eXTReMe Tracker


Crusader for Christ Crusader against Islam


This blog is protected from memes by Grundir the Implacable



Creative Commons License
This work
licensed under
a Creative
Commons License
.

RSS FEED

email me






::Links::


Pat Dollard

James Lileks
(My Idol)


Sharp Knife
(My Other Hero)


BaneRants
(Wordpress)

Now With Best ofs!

Haunted Soldier

Curses & Chrome

All Atwitter

Maiden Magnetic

Random Bits of Pomposity

Baldilocks

Vox Day

Velociman

Pondering...

Doc in the Box

Protein Wisdom

Atlas Shrugs

Twenty Major

Northwoods
Woman


Kolyada.com

Olbermmeinfuhrer

DaddyBlogger



::Previous::
  • Nat Is A Ninja Mushroom Today...



  • ::Past::
  • September 2002
  • October 2002
  • November 2002
  • December 2002
  • January 2003
  • February 2003
  • March 2003
  • April 2003
  • May 2003
  • June 2003
  • July 2003
  • August 2003
  • September 2003
  • October 2003
  • November 2003
  • December 2003
  • January 2004
  • February 2004
  • March 2004
  • April 2004
  • May 2004
  • June 2004
  • July 2004
  • August 2004
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • March 2009
  • June 2009
  • July 2009
  • August 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • May 2011
  • September 2012







  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

    This page is powered by Blogger.


        Monday, August 21, 2006

    Nat Is A Ninja Mushroom Today...

    She has the hat. She is wearing the wife's wide-brimmed straw gardening hat, and it is her mushroom cap. Her name is 'Mushy'. Mushroom Ninjas apparently stalk around the house and pounce on fuzzy things and eat them. Everywhere I go, the mushroom stalks me.

    Yes, the wife is at work. I think she looks at it as a break. She plays her music CD's, and cleans, and comes home tired, yet curiously rested. And no, she's not getting laid there. I'm pretty sure, anyway.

    No, she has no boundaries with the kids, and lets them devour her emotionally. Me, I keep them at arms length, and run them off when I get tired of them. Here's your choice, play quietly by yourself, or go to bed. They wouldn't dream of coming into my room without permission, let alone get into bed with me because they 'had a bad dream'. I got your bad dream right here, baby.

    So, I send the wife away alone, a lot, so she can have some her time, and recharge. It can be as simple as going to the store alone, or out to a tea shop with a girlfriend, or she can go off into the woods or to a religious retreat for a few days.

    I 'neglect' the kids a lot. By which I mean, I stay out of their faces, and let them be kids. I don't understand parents who smother their kids with attention, and turn them into little companion animals, and never give them the time to be alone with themselves, and figure out who they are.

    I present them with options: toys, books, movies, controlled TV, computer games, and I let them fend for themselves. They will occasionally drop by, knock on the door, and give me a hug. Update me on what they are doing. Ask me for food. I don't feed them, in general, unless they ask for it. I'm against wasting food, and sometimes, if they are in a growth spurt, they'll eat all day, and sometimes they just aren't interested at all.

    I keep cottage cheese, and mozzarella sticks, and trail mix, and graham crackers and such in the house, and I'll put a plate out on the table, and they can forage. Lots of dried fruit.

    If you think parenting is hard, you're doing it wrong. By the time they become a teenager, they should already know all of your boundaries, have complete respect for you, and believe you when you say something because you always follow through, and that sometimes, you get a little bit...crazy.

    Repeated hitting with a certain toy should result in said toy being consumed in a merry fire, while you dance around it whooping like a wild indian. Kids tend to remember stuff like that.

    Short of mental illness on the part of the child, I hear parents tell me that their kids 'changed' when they became teenagers, just tells me that the kid finally noticed how fucked up their parents are.

    This evening, Johnny and I will watch football together. We will cuddle on the couch, and Nat may join us. This'll give the wife her time to go to her room and play her piano, or read, or whatever.
    Or, she may join us for a while. She may clean, but the point is, it's her time to do with what she will.

    I am going to watch football anyway, and it is a perfect opportunity for me to give time to the kids without putting myself out. And I kinda enjoy it.

    We have deliberately set up the kids to fail, in order to teach them not to. I noted a while ago that the wife was coming home frazzled from trips to the store with the kids. And I'd hear the kids acting like little assholes over the phone when she'd call home. So I sat her down one day, and laid out the new regime:

    You tell the kids that if they act out in the car, you will turn around and bring them straight home.

    And you do it.

    You put two inexpensive treats that they get to pick themselves, in the basket when you first enter the store, and tell them that if they piss you off in any way, the item goes back on the shelf.

    And you do it.

    You tell them that if they pitch a fit over you putting the item back, you are leaving the cart right there and taking them straight home, where Daddy will rain painful vengeance down upon their heads.

    And you do it.

    The store has people they pay money to to reshelf those items, and you shouldn't have to do it more than a couple of times.

    Have a designated sitter for restaurant trips. This is someone, the other parent or a friend, that you have worked out in advance who will be the one to take the child out to the car and sit with them while they watch the rest of the family eat through the window. I deliberately choose a booth in front of where I parked the car for just such an event.
    This should not have to be used more than once. It is horrible for everybody, but remain stoic, be tough, and the other kids'll get the message, too.

    Each one of my kids has pitched a fit exactly once in a store, sitting down and screaming and refusing to come to me.

    So I leave. Bye. Have a nice day, enjoy your new family.

    I run and hide, and watch as they slowly come to the realization that they're not in Kansas any more. As sympathetic giants who think I'm a nasty beast loom over them and make sympathetic noises at them. I catch the eye of store staff, and they grin, and play along. They hate screaming kids.
    If your child pockets something, set things up with the manager, and then take them into the office and scare the shit out of them.

    If you find it at home, call ahead, then take them back and make them give it back, pay for it anyway with their birthday money, and apologize to every employee in the place for stealing from them.
    I make mine write an apology note, too.

    So, there you go. Sally forth and parent.

    Civilization will thank you for it one day.


    .




    Comments: Post a Comment