I have learned a few things in the last (nearly) 10 years of parenting that I have done. A few things that I would like to share with you. So ... here it goes.
#1 ---- There's No Sense in Crying Over Spilled Milk
Back when I was about 14, I use to walk to my best friend's house every morning before school. This was the place all my friends would meet at because the high school was literally behind her house. We'd get there and I'd have to get her motivated to get out of bed (she was not.... well is still not a morning person). Allison has a little sister, her name is Shelby. On one particular morning Shelby climbed out of her bed and followed us downstairs. We couldn't get her mom to wake up and we had to leave for school so we turned on some cartoons for her and left her in the living room. Shelby waited for us to leave, walked into the kitchen, got out the milk, and proceeded to throw the entire jug at the giant window in the living room. Milk went everywhere. I imagine the scene was much worse than the mess that we walked into because Allison's mom was still working on cleaning it up when we walked through the door at the end of the day. She told us that Shelby had been covered in it, as well as the couch, the floor, the curtains, the ceiling, and the book case. Someone commented about how she must have been mad, she simply shrugged and said "There's no sense in crying over spilled milk." I remember thinking yea right.. I'd be irate! Little monster child.
However, I have since then cleaned up my fair share of spilled milk. Spilled spaghetti. Spilled foundation. The entire bottle. All over the inside of my closet. An entire carton of broken eggs off my living room carpet.
I feel like I could spend entirely too long on this list so I'll just stop and say my kids spend more time spilling things then changing their clothes... which has been at least three times a day pretty much their entire lives.
What happens every time they do it though?
I make my annoyed mom face, grab a rag, and clean it (and usually them) up. And guess what...... it's gone. Ta da! Poof it's done. I move on.
Why on earth would I want to take something that can be fixed with nearly no effort at all and turn it into something that will stress me out, make them cry, and cause even more disarray in my already chaotic household?
Parents... clean the f'n spill up and Move. On.
"Ooooh but Megan... Timmy is spilling stuff on purpose. He needs to learn a lesson."
Dude.
Whip his ass. Clean the f'n spill up and Move. On.
#2 ---- My Kids Are Not Made of Glass
On the day I moved out of my parents house Damian was one and a half. We stayed in the same room for nearly the entire one and a half years of his life. This room was located at the top of my incredibly steep, eighteen step staircase. His dad was taking a part his crib inside the room while three or four of my friends and I were hanging out in the doorway with Dami. We were nearly finished moving everything out, and it had gone off without a hitch. That is until, my darling baby boy squirmed his little self through every stinking one of us standing right freaking there, and fell down every single one of those steps. My heart nearly came straight out of my chest. My poor baby. There was an immediate goose egg, and he roared from the pain. I cried and held him, convinced he was now going to have brain damage. What a horrible mother I was. I can't believe it happened.
And the award for bad mother of the year goes to.... Megan Nealeigh!
What happened next?
He Survived.
He still loved me.
Definitely no brain damage.
In fact in the years that followed, he tried to fly off the top of his bed and nearly gouged his eye out on the corner of his toy box. Had his same eye nearly gouged out again by our pregnant cat after he was pressing down on her belly. Slammed his boy parts in the toilet seat and had to be rushed to the ER. Fell out of his bedroom window (one story house don't worry!). In his underwear.
Of course there's also now the many injuries we've dealt with the girls and even our 6 month old.
Fingers slammed in bedroom doors. In car doors. Bathroom doors. Dresser drawers. Kitchen drawers. In fact, I'm having a hard time finding something these kids haven't smashed their fingers in or with.
Skinned knees, scratches, bumps and bruises happen. All of the Time! It doesn't make you abusive, it doesn't make you negligent, it makes your children .... children! They are not made of glass. They are going to fall down, you have to allow them the opportunity to learn how to get back up. Sometimes with your help, but mostly on their own. They will thank you for it later.
#3 ---- Sometimes I Have to Just Laugh at Myself
Kids are going to be kids. I am by no means a perfect mother. They make me crazy most days, and I lose my shit more times than I like to admit. On days where I feel like I'm a red faced fire breathing mama from hell, I have to forcibly remind myself that these kids are only children. While I want to believe me yelling "You know better!!!" is because they actually do know better, I'd say at least sixty percent of the time they are in fact, still learning to know better. I have to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the midst of my rage spiral and see how incredibly ridiculous I look. I have to laugh at myself. Laugh it all out. The anger, the frustration, the impatience. Laugh myself to normal, or as close as I can get. Then start over.
#4 ---- When in Doubt, Sing it Out
Our household, on the occasion, is like living in a real life musical. Honestly, I'd say at least one time every day we will take something we would normally just say to one another and put it into song instead. I'll sing out things I want my kids to do, or sing out my frustrations of the day, and lately there have been a lot of impromptu re-enactments of Frozen.
Most people look at me like I'm nuts when I tell them this. But you tell me, would you have rather had your mom say to you "Susie clean your bedroom and make your bed."
OR... sing out in a twinkle, twinkle little star melody "Oh my little Susie moon, It is time to clean your room, Grab your toys, and clothes, and trash. Make sure that you get that sash, Oh My little Susie Head, Don't forget to make your bed!"
I'll give that a second to sink in.......
... Exactly.
Sing more... your kids will love it.
#5 ---- Lovingly Insult the Kiddos
Ok ok ok... I know how that sounds. And I'm prepared for all the horrible comments or emails that this lesson will get. Well... if this blog was actually popular and read by more than one random person every few months. Any who... Let's move on.
If you spent a day in my household, you'd probably be shocked at the things we say to each other. For instance, at least once every day you hear my husband and I call our children fea or feo, the Spanish feminine and masculine words for "ugly." We by no means believe our children are ugly. They are the most beautiful kids on this planet in our eyes, and that will never change. Our children know this. We believe whole heartedly that this is largely in part to the insults we lovingly give them every day of their lives.
Where's My Fea Lulu? Awww Aubrie you're so fea! I love you pinche menso Damian feo!! Mitri, my fat man!! (Google translate what you'd like, be prepared for the shock... ;])
Most parents are dumbfounded at these things that so very adoringly pass our lips on the regular. My children know that we do not think that they are ugly, we do not think that they are stupid, we do not think that they are anything short of incredible. For every insult they hear, they've heard fifteen wonderful things as well. We say these things so that they will lose the power they hold on kids when they get older and are out in the world.
In my mind, I can see my daughters sitting in the lunch room surrounded by kids. Some of the kids are whispering and pointing, telling my sweet Lulu, or Aubrie, or Penelope, that they are ugly/fat/stupid. My girls smile at this. They think of their mom and papa. They think of the million times they've heard us tell them that they are feas/gorditas/mensas... they know that these are just words because they remember the billions of times they've been doted on for their incredible beauty, intelligence, and the sheer imperfect perfectness that they are.
Call me misguided, naïve, and anything else you'd like. In 10 years come visit us though and let's see what my kids self images are like.
#6 ---- Toys Are a WASTE of Money
I could count on ONE hand how many toys my children own with more than five pieces, that stayed all together for more than one week. Small reminder, my oldest will be 10 in September.
Then let's explore the avenue of broken vs. intact toys you can find in our house. That ratio usually works out to about 1:15... as in, for every one INTACT toy, you can find about 15 broken ones. God forbid we trash these toys, or donate. Because "we still play with it mommy!!! It's my favorite mommy!" As they wipe the inch layer of dust off of it.
Half of the time I find them playing with random household items. The vacuum attachments become swords, blankets become capes, the broom is for flying, and lest we forget mom's high heels!!
I have found that it makes more sense to spend five dollars on something as seemingly insignificant as a purse or a Lego man, then to go out and spend fifty on some la la loopsy doll or random electronic motorized piece of plastic. The cheap ones, always seem to get played with more, get loved longer, and stick with my kiddos almost all hours of the day.
F U Toys - R - Us... Give me the dollar store any day of the week.
#7 ---- Want It to Last? Hide It.
I like to think like most moms, there are certain things I've gotten for my children, or passed down, that I would love to keep intact until they're old enough to appreciate it.
This is impossible. Unless of course, you HIDE IT!
In order to be successful at this, you have to remember that if you can't outsmart your kid you can out-height your kid.
I have to do both of these things with my brood. My three year old Penelope, may be the smartest kid on the planet when it comes to finding things you've intentionally hid from her. I have had to result to hiding things in places that I can't even reach. (Thank Goodness my husband is a giant!)
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This is just a small handful of things I've learned obviously. But as you can imagine, there is never a dull moment in my household and as I type this I hear the beginning of a moment going on right now above my head.
Also, would like to note, in the midst of typing lesson number four. I had to deal with lesson number one. In it's most literal meaning.
Happy Sunday all.
-Namaste
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