©Lisa Barker
My daughters’ territory in the bathroom consists of a few shelves and a cabinet, which is adequate for two teenage girls – for now. The boys also have space for their things, but they find the girls’ possessions so much more interesting.
The four-year old once came out of the bathroom with penciled-in eyebrows and a mustache he’d drawn all by himself with eyeliner. Usually, he makes doodle art in the sink with tubes of toothpaste. Still, my husband and I can persuade him to keep his hands off things that don’t belong to him. It’s a parenting talent we possess that works on all the kids except the ten-year old boy.
He’s sneakier and more persistent. No matter what my husband and I have said, no matter what his consequences have been or how much his two sisters have tried to discourage him, he likes to use their lotion, sample their mouthwash, comb his hair with their brushes and spray their perfume. No matter what he does, he steadfastly denies it and then continues to sneak into their belongings. Until....
I found an item my youngest daughter uses—which I’d thrown in the garbage—hidden conspicuously in the bathroom. My son carefully avoided my eyes and I could tell there was a lie or two spinning in his head.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Oh. That’s an ear cleaner, isn’t it?” he said very carefully.
“Did you use it?” I could already tell by the deer-in-the-headlight look on his face that he had.
“No,” he said, trying to sound as casual and relaxed as possible, confirming my suspicions.
“Are you sure?” I baited him further.
“Yes....”
I savored a long pause and then I informed him, “This is an enema, dear...and it’s been used already.” And I explained to him what one does with such things, why his little sister (who uses a feeding tube) needs them. His eyes grew very large.
“That’s disgusting!”
But I saw a hint of disbelief. Perhaps he thought I had made up an outlandish tale to try to stop him from sneaking into things that don’t belong to him.
So I showed him the box and the illustrated instructions, but I couldn’t hold back an enormously self-satisfied chuckle. Plain as day, you could read the utter shock, disgust and realization on his face. He must have washed his ears out twenty times that day.
In my book, there is no finer parenting moment than allowing a child to learn from real life experience, especially when it comes to lying and sneaking. Perhaps my son will now be more selective about what items he filches and plays around with in the bathroom. Or not.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Be Very Careful of What You Sneak
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Mom’s Kitchen and Laundry Open 24/7
©Lisa Barker
The kids were all smirking. They’d heard my husband’s decree: Woman, if you don’t pick up your game around here, YOU’RE going to be grounded!
He’s tired of digging through laundry baskets every morning looking for something to wear. Everything is wrinkled. Our bedroom looks like a warehouse.
The thing is, I can’t recall when I have not been washing clothes all day. I know I did the wash constantly this weekend. I also ran errands, went grocery shopping, took the kids to Church, threw a birthday party for our youngest, made several meals, fed our special needs kiddo…the only work I didn’t do was my home business.
Maybe I need to learn how to prioritize. I can always take a cue from my husband. After all, this weekend he managed to play an online computer game, turn the sprinkler on the front lawn and drive us to McDonald’s once to eat.
There are drawbacks when staying home. I’ll never be promoted. Unless that’s what being a grandmother is called. But I’ll also never get demoted. It’s not like the kids are going to suddenly jump up and offer to clean the house and take over for...I mean BEYOND the pittance of chores required of them.
I’ll also never get a review unless I ask for it and I actually do ask my husband and kids to grade me in several categories once or twice a year. Otherwise all I hear is: When is dinner? What’s for lunch? Can you buy me clothes? Have you washed my clothes? I need cupcakes for a class party today. Did you sign the note my teacher sent home? Where are my keys?
All those questions make me doubt I ever achieve anything as a homemaker/wife/mom.
There was a time when I worked outside the home. It was great. I had my own office—my own room—all to myself! It didn’t matter what they paid me. I don’t have a room all to myself at home unless you count the laundry room. And no one pays me to be in it all day.
All I know is that I’m tired at the end of the day. It has something to do with the fact that once we finish one meal and the dishes are cleared, in come the kids for dessert, then snacks, then drinks, then...hey! Where did everyone go? And why is Mom looking at another mountain of dishes to wash?
Why is it that as soon as I empty the hampers, fold and put everything away, I turn around and there’s another hamper full? Where’s the incentive here?
I’m thinking it’s time for a vacation. Boy is everything going to pile up now.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
The kids were all smirking. They’d heard my husband’s decree: Woman, if you don’t pick up your game around here, YOU’RE going to be grounded!
He’s tired of digging through laundry baskets every morning looking for something to wear. Everything is wrinkled. Our bedroom looks like a warehouse.
The thing is, I can’t recall when I have not been washing clothes all day. I know I did the wash constantly this weekend. I also ran errands, went grocery shopping, took the kids to Church, threw a birthday party for our youngest, made several meals, fed our special needs kiddo…the only work I didn’t do was my home business.
Maybe I need to learn how to prioritize. I can always take a cue from my husband. After all, this weekend he managed to play an online computer game, turn the sprinkler on the front lawn and drive us to McDonald’s once to eat.
There are drawbacks when staying home. I’ll never be promoted. Unless that’s what being a grandmother is called. But I’ll also never get demoted. It’s not like the kids are going to suddenly jump up and offer to clean the house and take over for...I mean BEYOND the pittance of chores required of them.
I’ll also never get a review unless I ask for it and I actually do ask my husband and kids to grade me in several categories once or twice a year. Otherwise all I hear is: When is dinner? What’s for lunch? Can you buy me clothes? Have you washed my clothes? I need cupcakes for a class party today. Did you sign the note my teacher sent home? Where are my keys?
All those questions make me doubt I ever achieve anything as a homemaker/wife/mom.
There was a time when I worked outside the home. It was great. I had my own office—my own room—all to myself! It didn’t matter what they paid me. I don’t have a room all to myself at home unless you count the laundry room. And no one pays me to be in it all day.
All I know is that I’m tired at the end of the day. It has something to do with the fact that once we finish one meal and the dishes are cleared, in come the kids for dessert, then snacks, then drinks, then...hey! Where did everyone go? And why is Mom looking at another mountain of dishes to wash?
Why is it that as soon as I empty the hampers, fold and put everything away, I turn around and there’s another hamper full? Where’s the incentive here?
I’m thinking it’s time for a vacation. Boy is everything going to pile up now.
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Oompa Migraine
©Lisa Barker
I like ‘oompa’ music just as much as the next person. And in my neighborhood that seems to be just about everyone especially the neighbor that’s been playing it for five days straight.
I grew up with ‘oompa’ music. Some of my ancestors were Polish so there’s a lot of tuba-trumpet-accordion playing music-loving people in my family that can blare a lively two-stepping song at a chicken barbecue and punctuate the night with lots of ‘yips’ and ‘eeehaws.’ It’s not a foreign music to me.
But after five days straight I’m ready for some Bruce Springsteen or John Mellencamp or, gee, even Weird Al Yankovic played backward at top speed. Anything but BOOMP boomp BOOMP boomp BOOMP boomp boomp-boomp-boomp-boomp-boomp BOOMP boomp....
And he’s out there playing it bright and early every morning all the way until supper time which tells me that the poor guy either got laid off or he’s been hired to build an addition and it’s going to be three more weeks of ‘oompa’ music because I only heard one saw buzzing today. No hammers, no nothing. He’s the only guy.
And apparently Spanish radio isn’t immune to the advertisements that get played twenty decibels higher than the music. Boomp, boomp, boomp, boomp DAT! ES LA MAYOR VENTA DE ROPA EN TODO EL MUNDO!
Great! Thanks! I choked on my water because I thought the announcer had jumped right through my back door screaming about a great sale on clothes.
My husband has a shorter fuse than I do. One night I was peacefully sleeping, lulled into dreamland by the predictable ‘oompa’ beat when all of a sudden I hear: IT’S TWO O’CLOCK IN THE BLOODY MORNING! It was a collision of Californian and Australian culture. Both cultures love a holiday and a barbecue, but my husband can’t understand why a fifteen-year old girl’s birthday needs to be celebrated with ‘oompa’ music well into the wee hours of the morning.
I wonder if Spanish ‘oompa’ music has lyrics that are as silly as Polish ‘oompa’ music. I grew up with songs about a wife being too fat (sung by the husband), a wife beating up a husband (probably the fat wife getting back at her husband), rolling out the barrel of beer (definitely by the husband hoping to drink and escape his big mean wife) and someone stealing the kishka (a sausage – but we won’t get into whose sausage and why anyone would want to steal it).
I admit I like ‘oompa’ music. It’s traditional. It unites the old with the new. It invokes memories of family get-togethers and celebrations of special moments in life. But I need a break...before I go out of my ‘oompa’ lovin’ mind.
---------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters.
I like ‘oompa’ music just as much as the next person. And in my neighborhood that seems to be just about everyone especially the neighbor that’s been playing it for five days straight.
I grew up with ‘oompa’ music. Some of my ancestors were Polish so there’s a lot of tuba-trumpet-accordion playing music-loving people in my family that can blare a lively two-stepping song at a chicken barbecue and punctuate the night with lots of ‘yips’ and ‘eeehaws.’ It’s not a foreign music to me.
But after five days straight I’m ready for some Bruce Springsteen or John Mellencamp or, gee, even Weird Al Yankovic played backward at top speed. Anything but BOOMP boomp BOOMP boomp BOOMP boomp boomp-boomp-boomp-boomp-boomp BOOMP boomp....
And he’s out there playing it bright and early every morning all the way until supper time which tells me that the poor guy either got laid off or he’s been hired to build an addition and it’s going to be three more weeks of ‘oompa’ music because I only heard one saw buzzing today. No hammers, no nothing. He’s the only guy.
And apparently Spanish radio isn’t immune to the advertisements that get played twenty decibels higher than the music. Boomp, boomp, boomp, boomp DAT! ES LA MAYOR VENTA DE ROPA EN TODO EL MUNDO!
Great! Thanks! I choked on my water because I thought the announcer had jumped right through my back door screaming about a great sale on clothes.
My husband has a shorter fuse than I do. One night I was peacefully sleeping, lulled into dreamland by the predictable ‘oompa’ beat when all of a sudden I hear: IT’S TWO O’CLOCK IN THE BLOODY MORNING! It was a collision of Californian and Australian culture. Both cultures love a holiday and a barbecue, but my husband can’t understand why a fifteen-year old girl’s birthday needs to be celebrated with ‘oompa’ music well into the wee hours of the morning.
I wonder if Spanish ‘oompa’ music has lyrics that are as silly as Polish ‘oompa’ music. I grew up with songs about a wife being too fat (sung by the husband), a wife beating up a husband (probably the fat wife getting back at her husband), rolling out the barrel of beer (definitely by the husband hoping to drink and escape his big mean wife) and someone stealing the kishka (a sausage – but we won’t get into whose sausage and why anyone would want to steal it).
I admit I like ‘oompa’ music. It’s traditional. It unites the old with the new. It invokes memories of family get-togethers and celebrations of special moments in life. But I need a break...before I go out of my ‘oompa’ lovin’ mind.
---------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters.
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