The Ju-Ju Gene

My son has it.  The Ju-Ju Gene.  It's a defective gene from my husband's side.  I've named it after the MIL from Hell who I thought was out of our lives.

Not true.  While we do not speak to her or interact with her in any way, she is alive and kicking in our immediate family via the genetic make up of our offspring. 

My poor son has it bad.  He gets completely psychotic when things don't go his way.  He is a complete narcissist.  He gets very upset if his sister receives any praise because, well, it's supposed to be all about HIM.  He would just as soon cut her jugular than look at her. 

This week more effects of the Ju-Ju Gene have surfaced.  It's one of the worst, in my opinion.  A characteristic that, on a good day, will make my head explode.  It's called lying.  It seems Mr. Adorably Deceptive accidentally bent his glasses on Monday.  Instead of coming clean, he blamed it on a classmate.  On Tuesday, when he got in trouble with a substitute teacher, he bent them out of anger.  Again, he claimed his classmate grabbed them off his face and broke them.  The glasses, after Tuesdays incident, were officially broken and in need of repair. 

I was pissed.  And pissed at the other kid.  Two damn days in a row that kid has grabbed his glasses!  Why didn't the teacher do something???  Or let me know something???  Who is this mean-ass kid?

As a result, I emailed his teacher about it.  Imagine my surprise when she explained to me what had really transpired!  When I confronted him, he confessed.  However, he continued to lie to his dad who picked him up from school yesterday afternoon.  (At 6, you apparently don't realize that your parents may actually talk to one another.)

It makes me cringe just thinking about it.  Trust and honesty are so important to me.  I'm lazy.  It requires too much work to be suspicious of people and their actions.  It requires checking and double checking.  Consequences and punishment.  I just want to lay on the couch and watch T.V., for Christ's sake!

Anylittleliar, his dishonesty this week has cost me him TWO nights of television!  I could not sit him and his sister in front of the T.V. while I surfed the internet.  I was unable to watch Phineas & Ferb last night because of his punishment.  (K, maybe the narcissism comes from my side of the family.)

I hope we can overcome genetics.  I don't know how well I can coexist with a compulsive liar.  Could it just be a phase?  Will a lobotomy help?  Electroshock Therapy, maybe??

Please God let him get a smiley face today.  Tonight there's a new episode of Star Wars:  The Clone Wars, and I don't want to miss it!

My Little Apple

In the summer, I am always reminded of what a flop I am at parenting, wifery, and housekeeping.  In my last post, you saw my pathetic house and it's mounds of clutter.  Yep, we are one Sheriff Woody away from your classic family of psychologically impaired hoarders.

Today, my crazy-yelling-lady style of parenting reared its ugly head.  I hate that I'm a yeller.  My mom was a yeller, and I always hated her yelling at me.  I know my own kids feel the same way.  It seems, though, that I lose my mind with frustration and just go with what I know. 

STOP!  No Yelling! (Just shut up.)  When we get home, you are SO going to get it, young lady!

G, my mean-as-hell stubborn mini-me precious four-year-old, has recently developed a bad case of the smart mouth.  I honestly thought I had a good five years before having to deal with that behavior.  Apparently, she's quite "mature" for her age.  Anydrivemeuptheeff'nwall, her mouth has become my nemesis.  And I'm losing the battle.

Though a novice, G's got her smart-ass perfected!  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, ya know.  G starts off with mockery.  She says everything that comes out of my mouth with one hand on her hip and her head just a-bobbin'.  That's just a little appetizer to get my blood boiling.  By the time our little "discussion" is over, she's smirking at me and I'm screaming my head off!

I'm tired of your smart mouth, G!

"Mama, you are a big Smarty Butt!"

She's right, but that's beside the point.  This house ain't big enough for two smart asses.  And seeing as she is incredibly adorable, I'm afraid I'll have to concede.  Either that or get her butt in check! 

The Pocket Parent says I should just ignore her.  Nowhere in the book, however, says I should yell at her, or threaten a spanking that will never come to fruition.  The book goes on to explain that she's just trying to test me.  She knows my buttons and enjoys pushing them.  I am the parent and the adult so I need to stay calm.  FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. 

A friend of mine suggested that she actually washes her kids' mouths out with soap.  The concentrated liquid kind.  She's batting a 100% effective thus far, though.  Maybe I should give it a try?? 

Time outs with G are unbearable.  She refuses to stay, goes into hysterics, and the whole process lasts so long I forget why I actually put her there.  If I try to spank her, she turns around and tells me that it didn't hurt forcing me to spank her again.  I don't like that approach either.  God, I wish someone would write a book for the lazy parent.  How to Transform Your Child into a Wonderfully Charming Genius in Four Hours.  My kind of book.  Heck, I can do anything for four hours. 

In the meantime, though, how do you stop the kids from getting to best of you?  What works at your house?  To Soap or Not to Soap?  That is the question. 

Nanny 911

Okay, so you remember my previous blog about my MIL and her lack of babysitting skills?? She "sat" (I use the term loosely, yet literally) with my kids while my husband and I went to my reunion festivities. She did a horrible job, and I could not wait to ditch her vowing "NEVER, EVER again!"

It never fails. I always end up eating my words....

Back in July, my husband and I made plans for a quick overnighter to a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game for our 7th anniversary. We asked some friends to keep our kids, and let them spend the night. They said "sure," and my kids were excited. Mama and Daddy were excited, too, because we honestly thought it would be a much more difficult task. My kids don't really "spend the night" since they are only 4 and 3 years old. But these friends are the Godparents to my children so I was okay with it.

Mid-August rolls around, and the friends had to cancel. One of their children was in an out-of-town ball tournament. Their family would be in some po-dunk town in Middle Tennessee that weekend.

WHAT??? I was freaking out because I really wanted to get away, but I really had no babysitter. I thought about one of the teenagers I trust. After all, it would only be for one night. Something in the pit of my stomach stopped me, though, since the term, trusted teenager, is an oxymoron.

Yes, I trust our regular sitter for a few hours. No, I do not trust her for an overnight trip. There is no telling what kind of things could happen. I can just see me watching TV in St. Louis when the regularly scheduled programming is interrupted by this breaking news:

Teens Throw Kegger -- 3 Yr. Old Caught on Camera Playing Quarters and Doing Keg Stands!

I just could not take that chance.

Fastforward to three days before our anniversay. Still no babysitter... My husband called the MIL. Of course, she was free. Of course, she'd watch our kids. (Of course, she'd sit on her fat tookus and eat everything in our house.) Uuuggghhh!!!! At least I wasn't the one asking. I have my dignity!

As suspected, it was disasterous. I wish I'd have taken pictures of the aftermath. Not only did she call us every 20 minutes to report that our kids were little monsters who needed Nanny 911, our house looked like a tornado had been through it. She was there for 24 hours! What the heck happened???

Her dog (the one that she claims is COMPLETELY house broken) left feces in my son's room. There were crumbs all around the recliner where she'd plopped herself and probably stayed the entire time. My daughter was wearing plaid on plaid, and not even in the same color spectrum. There was an ungodly smell in the kitchen from a milk cup left sitting in the sink. My toilets looked like Port-a-Potties. My kids had not had their teeth brushed. And they were filthy!

I just pray that no one reports me to D.H.S.! I knew that she was incapable of caring for them properly; yet, I let her stay with them any way. I knowingly subjected my kids to such horrific living conditions and sub-standard hygiene! Even worse, they probably sustained long-term emotional scarring from all the mental abuse!

I felt so bad, I took my kids to Target. I can't take back that 24 hours, but maybe a little bribery will deaden the pain.

Nanny 911... If she does call, I'm reporting her to the Fashion Police!